November/December 2009

Rain, to Gracie, had always seemed like the tears of hope. Instead of closing all the windows and playing board games, she walks half a mile to the nearest park. Running away from home was simple now. She had gotten used to it. Most of it was to the park, and most of it was in the rain. The two things just clicked. When Gracie arrived at the park, it was almost always empty. Occasionally there would be a lone skateboarder, lining up the benches and crashing at the end. But on those days when the park was silent except for the pounding of the rain and the croaking of a lost bullfrog, Gracie took over the playground. It was astonishing the way she moved so well with the rain, silently but firmly. She looked as if a part of it. And the look on her face—so free. What she is doing requires strength and endurance. But most of all, determination. She steps to the bar and grips it, but do you see that her knuckles are not white? See how relaxed she is as she pulls her body up in the air? Watch her chin pose directly above the fragile bar. Then watch it all tumble down, the bar above her once more. He lacks the grace that she has. But the power, the will—it’s all there This act of power and grace combined continues twenty-six times. Her goal. She drops down, feet reuniting with the earth. The look on her face is the same as if she is a bird landing softly in the hills of heaven. She is ready. She has practiced for two months, ever since the last fitness testing. Then she had gotten four chin-ups, and with a heavy heart she remembers having to write that number on her sheet. Now she can write twenty-six and go to the fitness competitions. But there is one face she needs to see before all that is done. *          *          * “Hey, Louis! How many this time, huh, bud?” Coach Winters slaps him on the back like a long-lost buddy. The dumbest thing is that Louis replies in the same buddy voice. “Twenty-four,” says Louis, grinning across at his coach’s amazed face, although he’s heard and spoken the number at least a hundred times. They babble about the upcoming fitness stuff like it was the world. But Coach has another period to attend to, and although he’ll wait until the last minute to talk to Louis, Gracie knows he has to leave. She waits until they say goodbye and Coach walks off, whistling and grinning. “So… twenty-four, huh?” she asks, trying out the buddy voice. She’s just got to start drawling a little and smiling really hard. He looks at her like she’s stupid. Why would she be interested in what he was doing? But because he is a show-off and likes to tell people that, he nods. She leans in close. “Twenty-six,” she says, carefully enunciating each word. She doesn’t leave yet, though. His expression is what she’s looking for. It’s first confusion, like he has to piece together exactly what she’s saying. Then it’s obvious he’s finding the difference between the numbers. When that’s done, recognition—pure, surprised recognition —flashes across his face. All in a matter of two seconds. She doesn’t wait any longer and hurries away, swinging her books so that she looks relaxed, leaving him to contemplate. *          *          * Gracie can’t focus. It’s the last period of the day, and all she can look at is Louis. He’s angry, that’s for sure. There’s something else, too. He keeps looking up at her, and seeing that she is still watching him, turning away. Louis is like a snake—if you challenge and corner him against a wall, he’ll bite. Any little thing will tick him off now. He keeps frowning and glancing around. He confronts her when the bell rings. She has been expecting it, and has the whole thing planned out. “I can do it,” he tells her. “Twenty-seven.” “Prove it,” is all she answers, asking if he knows where her park is. When he nods, she only smiles and pats him on the back. Good sportsmanship. It can go a long way. It’s raining, again, when she arrives at the park. To her surprise, he’s already there, huffing and puffing under the bar. It’s not what she expected, but Gracie ignores that and keeps going. Right when he sees her he flops down, as if he was planning what to do. “I can do it!” he says again, but he doesn’t sound like he’s too sure. “Lemme see it,” says Gracie, who is equally nervous. It’s the first time she’s let someone else be in her park, her kingdom. The first few are easy—he does them good and quick, using energy to impress. He hits ten before he dwindles a little below the bar. His eyes flicker to match hers, and he sees her outstretched fingers— ten of them. “Ten, keep going!” she calls, swinging her legs. The key, she knows, is to look relaxed and believe in herself. She shouldn’t sweat it, but in the back of her mind, she finds the difference between the number he’s on and twenty-six. What if she’s really not ready? He’s got fifteen. Five to twenty. Then another six to twenty-six. Suddenly, to Gracie, the numbers feel small and weak, unable to hold the strength that Louis has. Louis himself, under the bar, feels totally different. They are painful and unwelcoming. He is going into new territory. But he’s got the determination that Gracie has. Even if every bone breaks, he’ll go on and smile at the end. Twenty. He recognizes the number portrayed on Gracie’s fingers. All of a sudden he’s in the tens just like the goal. He hangs under the bar, fists clenched but a determined smile on his face. He won’t quit on his dream, that’s just not who he is.