Chapter 5
Grace
Ten Years Old
The petoskey stone in my denim jumper pocket bounces up and down as I try to keep up with Danny.
“Keep up or keep out, Susannah Sinclair!”
“Stop running so fast. And d-don’t call me Susannah!”
“If you want to be the greatest in the world like I do, you have to put in the work, Suze!” Danny calls as he disappears into the woods behind our houses, beelining toward our special spot.
I would follow him anywhere, and I do. My jelly sandals kick up dirt as I pick up my pace and try to hide the pain I feel in my ribs.
“Quit it with the S name! I’m keeping Charger company.” I throw an affectionate smile to the chocolate labrador trailing leisurely behind me. Danny slows his pace, and I catch up to walk beside him.
“Okay, okay, Gracie. You know I like messing with you sometimes.” He grins. When Danny smiles, really smiles, he does it with his whole face.
He’s the only person in the whole world who calls me by my middle name, Grace. I love it. Mama wanted it to be my first name, but she compromised with Dad on Susannah when I was born.
“I’ll kick your b-b-butt!” I puff out a frustrated breath, blowing one of my red curls away from my face. I hate my stutter.
“Gracie, slow down. It gets worse when you talk too fast.”
Ever since Mama went to Heaven last year, I can’t seem to control the way my words come out. My stutter bothers Dad. I think it reminds him that she’s gone. But when he gets angry at my stumbles, I end up stuttering even more. Sometimes I go days without talking, just so he won’t get mad.
Dad doesn’t seem to notice.
Danny holds up three fingers and wiggles them near my mouth. “Take a deep breath and blow out the candles.”
I smile softly and lean forward, breathing in through my nose before blowing on his hand.
He puts two fingers down, but keeps wiggling his pointer finger with a mischievous look.
I take another deep breath and lean closer, blowing a stronger gust of air on the remaining finger. He swiftly puts it down.
He always knows exactly what to do to make me feel better.
I can’t help my grin. “You’re my favorite.”
He tosses the football he brought into the air and catches it. “And the New York Mustangs are the best team in the league!”
“Huh?”
“I thought we were saying obvious things. Duh, I’m your favorite. I’m kind of amazing.” He gives my shoulder a gentle shove.
I try not to wince.
We finally get to our special spot, a partially shaded open space surrounded by trees. The cold water creek where we skip stones babbles behind the tall grass. Charger ambles to the shore, hunting for the perfect stick.
Danny picks up a twig and tosses it toward Charger. “Do you wanna eat at my house for lunch? Tessa’s still being picky, so it’ll probably just be peanut butter and—”
“Yes.”
Danny laughs. “That was fast.”
His mom could be serving a plate of rocks sprinkled with dirt and I’d still want to go to his house.
We sit on our log in comfortable silence for a while, playing fetch with Charger and relaxing under the hot Ohio sun. I scoot under the tree so my fair skin doesn’t burn. With his light brown skin and dark features, Danny never burns.
He breaks the silence first, throwing the football in the air again. “Hey, Gracie, have you thought any more about what you wanna be when you grow up?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Probably something with animals.” Animals love you no matter what, just like how Danny loves me. He doesn’t care about my stutter.
Doing my best to act normal, I turn up the volume of the boombox Danny brought with him, even though I don’t like the Goo Goo Dolls. Charger pays me extra attention, whining if I move too far away from him and nuzzling my leg.
“Gracie?”
My oversized T-shirt pools on the ground when I kneel down to give Charger a belly rub. Even though I’m right-handed, I pet him with my left, trying to hide my grimace of pain.
“Gracie? Are you listening to me?”
I look up through the curls curtaining my face. “Hmm? What did you say?”
“Okay, that’s it. What’s going on with you?”
“What d-do you mean?” Curling inward, I wrap my arms around my waist.
“Let’s see. You’ve been quiet all morning, you didn’t even care about the type of music on the boombox, you keep petting Charger with your left hand and wincing when you barely move your body. And, most of all, you’re stuttering. Are you okay?”
My eyes mist over and a tear trickles out. Danny watches it roll down my face, his eyes wide. I think the last time I cried was at Mama’s funeral a year ago.
“Gracie,” he pleads frantically. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it. I hate it when you cry. Should I get my mom?”
“No. No, d-don’t get your mom,” I say quickly as I stand up straight. “I'm sorry, it’s nothing really.”
He takes a small step toward me, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to find the truth. “You’re lying. I can tell. You’re biting the inside of your cheek.”
At this moment, I wish he didn’t know me better than anyone. I hesitate before whispering, “If I t-tell you, you have t-to promise not t-to t-tell anyone.”
“Okay…”
“I mean it, Danny. No one can know.”
Nodding, he gives me a shaky smile. He has no idea what he’s just agreed to.
“You know how my d-dad has b-been d-drinking more. Well, he came home last night really d-drunk, and…and angry. I forgot t-to t-take the wet clothes out of the washer and, well. Well, he…he…” I struggle to get the final words out.
Danny’s eyes scan my body, looking for visible injuries. He won’t find one—the bruises are underneath my shirt. “Did he…hurt you?”
He waits for me to tell him that he’s crazy, but my correction never comes. Bile rises in my throat.
“Gracie?” he says hoarsely.
“Danny,” I whisper back.
“Tell me. Tell me everything.”