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Authors: Rebecca Scherm
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“What? Like, when I grow up?”
“Yeah,” she said, glad he had laughed. “When you grow up.”
“Uh, away .” He rubbed the crooked bridge of his nose. “Out of here.”
“ Here? ” Grace said, disbelieving.
“Garland,” he sighed.
“So go work on an oil rig. Or go to college in Kansas.” Marmie hobbled up the stairs and parked her graying head on Grace’s lap.
“Is that what you’re planning? What do you want to be?”
Grace Graham. Smart, rich, mother of future Grahams. “I don’t know,” she said, stroking the dog’s ears. “But my family is here.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never even met your family. You know how weird that is in this town? There’s nobody who sees me coming and doesn’t think of my dad.”
“I meant here ,” she said, tapping her finger on the porch step. There wasn’t any reason she shouldn’t say that, and yet she felt it had been a mistake.
A Riley whoop rang out from inside. They turned to the bay window and saw him dancing his mother across the living room floor, showing off for them, for her. They could hear Dr. Graham’s Steely Dan through the glass. Riley gave them a goofy thumbs-up. Grace waved.
“Well, same,” Alls said to her then. She was relieved. She could tell that he’d thought she just meant Riley.
Grace smiled. “You just need to figure out what you want.”
“Like you did,” he said, the corner of his lip twitching.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “You did good, and you know it. I fuck up, but you never do.”
Grace laughed, out of both habit and self-defense, and Alls nodded, looking at her in a way she did not want to be seen.
“Stop it,” she said, standing to reach for the icy doorknob. She could hear the opening chords of “Deacon Blues,” and she wanted to join the dancing.
• • •
The next week, Alls quit the basketball team, right in the middle of the season. He couldn’t see faking it through February, he said, with all those people pitying him. “I don’t owe anybody anything,” he told his coach.
Shortly after that, he started going to the college after school for fencing practice.
“Of all the sports that could get you a scholarship, you’re going for one you’ve never done before,” Riley said. “Makes sense.”
“Like, with the mask and shit?” Greg asked.
“Yeah,” Alls said. “And shit.”
“What about track?” Riley asked. “You can run.”
“No, you don’t get it,” Alls said. “See, they have a full track team. They have a full basketball team. GC has one available scholarship, and it’s for fencing, so I’m going after it. They had a junior transfer up north midyear. Your dad’s the one who told me.”
“I didn’t even know they had a fencing team,” Greg said.
Alls nodded once. “Now you get it.”
• • •
Alls won the scholarship, possibly with a quiet assist from Dr. Graham, and would begin college only a semester behind Riley and Greg. In August, the boys rented the falling-down house on Orange Street. Riley gave her a key, and Grace made herself at home in his room upstairs, Alls in the room below and Greg down the hall.
At first, they all basked in the freedom the house afforded them. No one had to smoke out in the woods anymore; no one hurried to push the empties under the couch at the sound of footsteps on the stairs; no one needed to wear proper clothes, buttoned and zipped. Grace lived with her parents only technically now. She spent most nights at the house on Orange Street, and though her parents didn’t like this arrangement, they were too late to intercede with any meaningful authority. When her mother protested that Grace spending the night with Riley all the time didn’t “look right,” Grace feigned confusion: to whom? The Grahams didn’t mind that she stayed over, she said. She had her own room in their house. Mrs. Graham was only grumpy that she saw less of them now. Grace dragged
“Yeah,” she said, glad he had laughed. “When you grow up.”
“Uh, away .” He rubbed the crooked bridge of his nose. “Out of here.”
“ Here? ” Grace said, disbelieving.
“Garland,” he sighed.
“So go work on an oil rig. Or go to college in Kansas.” Marmie hobbled up the stairs and parked her graying head on Grace’s lap.
“Is that what you’re planning? What do you want to be?”
Grace Graham. Smart, rich, mother of future Grahams. “I don’t know,” she said, stroking the dog’s ears. “But my family is here.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never even met your family. You know how weird that is in this town? There’s nobody who sees me coming and doesn’t think of my dad.”
“I meant here ,” she said, tapping her finger on the porch step. There wasn’t any reason she shouldn’t say that, and yet she felt it had been a mistake.
A Riley whoop rang out from inside. They turned to the bay window and saw him dancing his mother across the living room floor, showing off for them, for her. They could hear Dr. Graham’s Steely Dan through the glass. Riley gave them a goofy thumbs-up. Grace waved.
“Well, same,” Alls said to her then. She was relieved. She could tell that he’d thought she just meant Riley.
Grace smiled. “You just need to figure out what you want.”
“Like you did,” he said, the corner of his lip twitching.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “You did good, and you know it. I fuck up, but you never do.”
Grace laughed, out of both habit and self-defense, and Alls nodded, looking at her in a way she did not want to be seen.
“Stop it,” she said, standing to reach for the icy doorknob. She could hear the opening chords of “Deacon Blues,” and she wanted to join the dancing.
• • •
The next week, Alls quit the basketball team, right in the middle of the season. He couldn’t see faking it through February, he said, with all those people pitying him. “I don’t owe anybody anything,” he told his coach.
Shortly after that, he started going to the college after school for fencing practice.
“Of all the sports that could get you a scholarship, you’re going for one you’ve never done before,” Riley said. “Makes sense.”
“Like, with the mask and shit?” Greg asked.
“Yeah,” Alls said. “And shit.”
“What about track?” Riley asked. “You can run.”
“No, you don’t get it,” Alls said. “See, they have a full track team. They have a full basketball team. GC has one available scholarship, and it’s for fencing, so I’m going after it. They had a junior transfer up north midyear. Your dad’s the one who told me.”
“I didn’t even know they had a fencing team,” Greg said.
Alls nodded once. “Now you get it.”
• • •
Alls won the scholarship, possibly with a quiet assist from Dr. Graham, and would begin college only a semester behind Riley and Greg. In August, the boys rented the falling-down house on Orange Street. Riley gave her a key, and Grace made herself at home in his room upstairs, Alls in the room below and Greg down the hall.
At first, they all basked in the freedom the house afforded them. No one had to smoke out in the woods anymore; no one hurried to push the empties under the couch at the sound of footsteps on the stairs; no one needed to wear proper clothes, buttoned and zipped. Grace lived with her parents only technically now. She spent most nights at the house on Orange Street, and though her parents didn’t like this arrangement, they were too late to intercede with any meaningful authority. When her mother protested that Grace spending the night with Riley all the time didn’t “look right,” Grace feigned confusion: to whom? The Grahams didn’t mind that she stayed over, she said. She had her own room in their house. Mrs. Graham was only grumpy that she saw less of them now. Grace dragged
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