Don’t Let Me Go(52)

Grace looked at Felipe, and he looked so sad and helpless, and it started making her mad, that her mom was being so snotty to him, and not for any really good reason at all. She decided to take matters into her own hands, Mom or no Mom.

She ripped her hand free and ran to Felipe and threw her arms around his waist, one side of her face pressed against his belly. He was wearing a green flannel shirt, and it had been washed a lot of times. Grace could tell, because it was so soft.

“Te amo, Felipe,” she said, purposely loud enough for her mom to hear.

“Te amo también, mi amiga.”

“Billy y Rayleen? Dice para mi, ‘Grace te amo.’”

“Sí, mi amiga. Sí, yo lo hare.”

Then Grace ran back to her mom, who grabbed her arm and pulled her down the street again.

“Ow,” Grace said. “Could you loosen up on my arm? And slow down?”

“Just hurry up and walk with me.”

But it hurt, and that made Grace feel extra-defiant again. She stopped dead on the sidewalk, wrenching her arm free.

“Felipe! Would you go ahead of us? Please? Because I’m tired from trying to keep up with my mom, and she’s hurting me.”

Felipe crossed to the other side of the street, while Grace’s mom just stood and watched him, and then he got ahead, and crossed back. But he didn’t look over his shoulder or anything. He just kept walking.

Grace’s mom set off toward home again, but she walked more slowly this time, and didn’t grab on to any part of Grace, so that was an improvement.

“Since when do you speak Spanish?” her mom asked.

“Told you there’s a lot you missed,” Grace said.

? ? ?

When they got down the stairs to their basement apartment, they found a brown paper grocery sack in front of the door. With a big marking pen, in writing Grace didn’t recognize, someone had written on it, “FOR GRACE.”

Her mom picked it up and tried to look inside, but Grace, who was still feeling defiant, grabbed it out of her mom’s hands.

“It says for Grace, not for Eileen.”

“But I need to see what somebody’s giving you.”

“OK, fine, just give me a second and I’ll show you. Don’t have a total fit.”

Grace reached inside and felt soft cloth. She pulled it out of the bag, and let it unfold. It was a dress. A brand-new dress. Grace held it up in front of her, and it looked like it would fit just right, which was not too surprising, because Mrs. Hinman had measured all the different parts of Grace before she even ordered the pattern. It came down to just Grace’s knees, and it was the most perfect color of blue ever.

“That came out nice!” Grace said.

“Who bought you a dress?”

“Nobody bought it.”

“It just appeared?”

“Mrs. Hinman made it for me. I have to go tell her thank you.”

“Later,” her mom said.

“Why not now?”

“Because I have to go with you, and I’m tired, and I need to sit down for a minute.”

“You don’t have to go with me.”

“Oh, yes, I do.”

Grace sighed.

“OK, fine. Whatever. I’ll just practice my dancing and you tell me when you’re ready.”

Grace’s mom opened the door and let them both inside.

Grace ran straight to her tap shoes, thinking — for the twentieth time, at least — how lucky she was to have been wearing them when her mom stole her. She got them on in no time, too. It was easy with these tap shoes, because they fit. Just lace them up and dance.

But then she decided to take a minute to run into her bedroom and put on the new blue dress. She’d never danced in a dress before, and she wanted to see how it would feel. She slid it over her head, liking the soft feel of the cloth.

Then she looked at herself in the mirror, and drew in a loud breath.

“I look pretty,” she said out loud.

It wasn’t just the dress, but the dress definitely finished off the look. The dress took the newish haircut, and the nails (Rayleen had fixed the one she’d lost) and turned them into a package of…well…pretty. And there was another thing, but Grace was only just now noticing it. She’d lost weight, without even meaning to. Without even trying. Must have been all those hours of dance practice.

She smiled at herself in the mirror, which she had never done before, then ran into the kitchen to dance.

Grace’s mom was sitting on the coffee table lighting a cigarette, and she made a face when Grace began tapping on the kitchen linoleum.

“Whatever happened to smoking outside?” Grace asked, making a similar face.

“I need to keep an eye on you every minute. Do you have to do that tapping thing? The noise is giving me a headache.”

“Yes, I have to do it,” Grace said, without missing a step. “I have to do it for hours a day. I have a performing thingy coming up, and I want to be good.”

“It’s giving me a headache.”

“You said that already. I have to go to Rayleen’s and get my pajamas.”

“We’ve been through this.”

“I’m not sleeping in my clothes again tonight. I need my pajamas.”

“You can call her when she gets home and ask her to put them out in the hall. Since when do you need to dance for hours a day? You never did before.”