Free Fall from Grace by Charles Benoit Page B

knees, then popping up on his toes till the frame whapped upflat against the underside of the table just as the librarian and Grace turned around, Grace asking the librarian if she wanted to sit down and help pick out a painting that’s a good example of whatever story she’d been selling, the librarian saying she’d love to, but that she’d better see how Mr. Stewart is doing with the computer, and then she was gone and Sawyer’s heart started to beat again.
    â€œVery impressive, Mr. Bond,” Grace said, taking the painting off his lap. She gave a glance at the doorway, then walked over and hung the painting on the hook, stepping back to see if it was straight.
    Sawyer sat at the table, massaging the cramps out of his calves. “That was close.”
    â€œThat was better than close,” Grace said, trying to force his textbooks through the tiny opening in his ruined backpack. “That was fun.”
    Â 
    Hours later—after dropping Grace off at her aunt’s apartment, eating dinner, doing his homework, and talking to Zoë—Sawyer thought of something that scared the hell out of him.
    It was fun.

CHAPTER
14
    â€œKNOCK, KNOCK,” SAWYER’S father said, rapping a knuckle on the door as he pushed it open. If it had been closed all the way his father would’ve waited until Sawyer said come in. He’d been a teenager once so he knew better. But the rule was if the door was open a crack, it might as well have been open all the way, so knocking and coming in at the same time was cool.
    Sawyer was at his desk, computer screen dark, phone off, textbook open, calculator fired up, and eyes glazed over. It wasn’t sticking, but not from a lack of effort. He looked up from his all-wrong equations.
    â€œDon’t forget, set your alarm early. St. Mary’s starts serving at five.”
    Sawyer slumped down against the back of the chair,turned his head up to the ceiling and closed his eyes. He had forgotten. He sighed and mumbled something that he didn’t want to say out loud.
    â€œYou made a commitment, Sawyer. You know how I feel about that.”
    No, he didn’t. When it came to commitments, his father was all over the place, honoring some—like the one to his golf league—as if his life depended on it, ignoring others—like his promise to help with the landscaping at the church—as if someone else had said it. But when it came to commitments his father made for him—like working the soup kitchen at St. Mary’s two days a week and every holiday—Sawyer knew exactly how his father felt. And Sawyer knew what he wanted to say about that commitment and the coming four twenty wake-up. Instead he said, “Who would want soup at five in the morning?”
    â€œVery funny. You know it’s not soup. But even if it was, these people don’t have jobs, some don’t have anything . Don’t they at least deserve a good, hot breakfast?”
    Yeah, of course they did. Stupid question. But if they didn’t have jobs, couldn’t they eat a little later? It wasn’t like they were going to be late for work. Sawyer wentover to his bed, resetting the alarm since he knew his father would stand there till he did.
    â€œYou’re not working on precalculus, are you?”
    â€œThere’s a big test Thursday.” He double-checked the alarm. Four-frickin’-twenty a.m. Damn.
    His father gave a you-don’t-get-it headshake combined with a what-am-I-going-to-do-with-this-kid eye roll. “You’re already accepted. You don’t have to worry about this class.”
    â€œI know, it’s just that some of the other schools I’m looking at require an extra year of math and—”
    â€œSawyer, why are you wasting your time looking at other schools? You’re in at Wembly, I told you that.”
    â€œThey were on my list and I wanted to see if I could get accepted. Some of them offer decent