Free Saving Gracie by Terry Lee Page A
Authors: Terry Lee
whines.
“I’ll take you only so far, my friend,” Janie said. “Then you’re on your own. You need to stand on those wobbly legs and learn to fly again.”
“Again?” Grace had moaned. “When have I ever stood on my own?”
“Then, start.”
~~~
Saturday dawned humid and overcast with a 40% chance of rain. Even with cloudy skies Grace pulled on Audrey Hepburn sunglasses before backing out of the driveway.
Since agreeing to volunteer Grace found a ton of things she’d neglected to do over the past couple of months; make a Goodwill run, sort through picture albums, straighten the junk drawer…get a pedicure. Shit. If she hadn’t made the stupid commitment, she could take care of all this crap which, at the moment, seemed extremely urgent.
“You are so full of it.” #2, as usual, didn’t bother disguising her irritation.
“Oh shut up,” Grace barked. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”
“Not currently.”
It occurred to Grace the “love-hate” relationship with #2 mirrored the one she had with her mother. She hated #2 for being a smart-ass-know-it-all, while at the same time envying the hell out of her. At least she could tell #2 to shut up, which gave her a twisted sort of pleasure.
Arriving early at Sedgwick Elementary, Grace sat in the car, hiding behind her over-sized sunglasses. She flipped down the visor to check her lipstick in the mirror. She growled. Her hair had actually grown since leaving the house.
“Damn humidity. I look like Jane of the jungle.”
“Chia Pet,” #2 corrected. “If you ask me—”
“No one’s asking you.” Grace stumbled out the car and slammed the door.
At the information session Grace met Jill, a bouncy, bright-eyed twenty-year-old college student with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. Currently in her third year at Sam Houston State, Jill was working toward a Phys Ed degree with a minor in Special Needs. She also headed the six to eight-year-old Bluebirds, Grace’s assigned group.
“Here.” Jill handed Grace a manila folder. “There’s a lot of ADA stuff in there because of the hard-of-hearing kiddos; also the schedule and the names of the Bluebirds.”
“Thanks.” Grace thumbed through the folder.
“First time to volunteer?” Jill asked.
“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m cut out for this.”
“Oh….” Jill nudged Grace. “You’ll be fine. You’re Hannah’s mom, right?”
Grace’s face registered surprise. “Yes. How did you know?
“I had one of the older groups last year. Loved, loved, loved Hannah.”
Grace liked Jill already. “She’ll be back this summer.”
“Can’t wait to see her.” Jill smiled and touched Grace’s shoulder.
Grace flipped to the roster sheet in the folder. Her eyes widened. “Seventeen?”
“Yeah,” Jill said. “The ones with asterisks are the hearing-impaired kiddos.”
“What’s this?” Grace pointed to a name with an asterisk, a red star and the words “see note below” penciled in.
“That one has a temper.” Jill shook her head. “Not a great family environment. You’ll need to read the info on her.”
As if on cue, large pellets of rain began falling from the sky the minute Grace left the building. She tucked the manila folder under her arm and bee-lined for the car. By the time she pulled into her driveway a Houston summer gully-washer pounded sheets of rain across the windshield. The wipers struggled to keep pace.
Grace pressed the garage door opener. Nothing. Dead batteries? Great. And no umbrella. Big surprise, #2 would say. She sighed, stuffed the manila folder under her blouse and bolted for the house.
Plowing through the back door Grace found Hannah in front of the television in conversation with her BFF, Jennifer. Her daughter’s eyes rounded at Grace’s wild hairdo.
“ Wow. Large hair ,” Hannah signed.
Grace pulled the folder out from under her soaked shirt and dropped it on the table. Using the back of her arm, she pushed a tangled mass of hair
“I’ll take you only so far, my friend,” Janie said. “Then you’re on your own. You need to stand on those wobbly legs and learn to fly again.”
“Again?” Grace had moaned. “When have I ever stood on my own?”
“Then, start.”
~~~
Saturday dawned humid and overcast with a 40% chance of rain. Even with cloudy skies Grace pulled on Audrey Hepburn sunglasses before backing out of the driveway.
Since agreeing to volunteer Grace found a ton of things she’d neglected to do over the past couple of months; make a Goodwill run, sort through picture albums, straighten the junk drawer…get a pedicure. Shit. If she hadn’t made the stupid commitment, she could take care of all this crap which, at the moment, seemed extremely urgent.
“You are so full of it.” #2, as usual, didn’t bother disguising her irritation.
“Oh shut up,” Grace barked. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”
“Not currently.”
It occurred to Grace the “love-hate” relationship with #2 mirrored the one she had with her mother. She hated #2 for being a smart-ass-know-it-all, while at the same time envying the hell out of her. At least she could tell #2 to shut up, which gave her a twisted sort of pleasure.
Arriving early at Sedgwick Elementary, Grace sat in the car, hiding behind her over-sized sunglasses. She flipped down the visor to check her lipstick in the mirror. She growled. Her hair had actually grown since leaving the house.
“Damn humidity. I look like Jane of the jungle.”
“Chia Pet,” #2 corrected. “If you ask me—”
“No one’s asking you.” Grace stumbled out the car and slammed the door.
At the information session Grace met Jill, a bouncy, bright-eyed twenty-year-old college student with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. Currently in her third year at Sam Houston State, Jill was working toward a Phys Ed degree with a minor in Special Needs. She also headed the six to eight-year-old Bluebirds, Grace’s assigned group.
“Here.” Jill handed Grace a manila folder. “There’s a lot of ADA stuff in there because of the hard-of-hearing kiddos; also the schedule and the names of the Bluebirds.”
“Thanks.” Grace thumbed through the folder.
“First time to volunteer?” Jill asked.
“Yeah, I’m not sure I’m cut out for this.”
“Oh….” Jill nudged Grace. “You’ll be fine. You’re Hannah’s mom, right?”
Grace’s face registered surprise. “Yes. How did you know?
“I had one of the older groups last year. Loved, loved, loved Hannah.”
Grace liked Jill already. “She’ll be back this summer.”
“Can’t wait to see her.” Jill smiled and touched Grace’s shoulder.
Grace flipped to the roster sheet in the folder. Her eyes widened. “Seventeen?”
“Yeah,” Jill said. “The ones with asterisks are the hearing-impaired kiddos.”
“What’s this?” Grace pointed to a name with an asterisk, a red star and the words “see note below” penciled in.
“That one has a temper.” Jill shook her head. “Not a great family environment. You’ll need to read the info on her.”
As if on cue, large pellets of rain began falling from the sky the minute Grace left the building. She tucked the manila folder under her arm and bee-lined for the car. By the time she pulled into her driveway a Houston summer gully-washer pounded sheets of rain across the windshield. The wipers struggled to keep pace.
Grace pressed the garage door opener. Nothing. Dead batteries? Great. And no umbrella. Big surprise, #2 would say. She sighed, stuffed the manila folder under her blouse and bolted for the house.
Plowing through the back door Grace found Hannah in front of the television in conversation with her BFF, Jennifer. Her daughter’s eyes rounded at Grace’s wild hairdo.
“ Wow. Large hair ,” Hannah signed.
Grace pulled the folder out from under her soaked shirt and dropped it on the table. Using the back of her arm, she pushed a tangled mass of hair