Chapter Five - GRACIE

As soon as Gracie had her siblings settled down with their homework and chores, she went up to her room and shut the door. She looked around. It was crazy how her room hadn’t changed at all, but she felt like a stranger there. The bright colors didn’t match how she had felt the last few weeks. A bright pink and green comforter was spread across her bed, and lava lamps took up most of the space on her dresser and bookshelf. Half of the room, and all four walls, had been dedicated to her art, and a few half-done paintings stood on their easels, awaiting her return.

They had been waiting for quite some time. Gracie hadn’t touched them since New Year’s. They looked lonely, but she knew she could no longer do them justice. The urge to paint persisted, however, until it felt like ants crawling under her skin. This was her outlet—how she stayed positive and coped with her crazy life. It wasn’t just a hobby—she needed it.

So Gracie forced herself to not think about the homework and class projects she was supposed to be working on, and instead took a brand new canvas out of her closet. She changed into her favorite painting outfit—an oversized blouse and loose pants her aunt had sent her from Bali— before replacing one of the partial paintings on an easel. She stared at the canvas, wondering if it would take time for her to get back into the groove.

How would she know what to paint? Ideas used to flow from every direction, all day long. She would keep a small notebook in her pocket and she’d constantly be writing and sketching, anxious to be able to paint her visions when she got home.

But there hadn’t been any ideas lately.

After several minutes of straining for something—anything—that she could paint, Gracie decided that maybe she needed to do less thinking and let the brushes decide. She squirted a little of every color onto a palette, then closed her eyes and dipped a large brush into one of the paints. When Gracie opened her eyes, she saw the brush had chosen blue.

The first broad stroke across the white canvas was exhilarating. A thrill shot across her nerves. Her reflexes kicked in and Gracie was soon on autopilot. Her tension and stress eased as she allowed herself to sink into what she was doing. She didn’t worry about what the kids might be doing, or if her parents would come home to a messy house. She didn’t worry about what her teachers would say when she turned yet another assignment in late.

Gracie didn’t realize how long she had been painting until a knock at her door startled her out of her reverie, and she noticed that the room was a shade darker. The sun had begun to sink, which meant she’d been working on this painting for at least three hours.

“Come in,” she said, standing up to rinse her brushes. She moved a lock of hair out of her eyes and accidentally swiped blue paint onto her cheek. She breathed in the familiar scent of paint and released a long and satisfied sigh.

“Hey, dinner is ready,” her mom said, stepping into the room. She eyed Gracie and then the painting on the easel. She smiled and walked toward it. Gracie’s mom was an artist as well, but it had been years since she had done much with it. She always said she would live vicariously through Gracie for the time being. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you paint,” her mom said, studying the painting, and then glancing at Gracie. “You look happy.”

“I am,” Gracie said with a wide smile.

“Your painting tells another story, though,” her mom said, sitting down on Gracie’s bed. Her mom looked worn out. More than she ever had as a stay-at-home mom of seven kids. Sure, she had always been completely exhausted by the end of the day, but now it was like her mom was working two full-time jobs. It made Gracie feel guilty that she had left her brothers and sisters to their own devices while she was up in her room playing with paint. She should have been cleaning, and helping them, and maybe even making dinner. Anything that would make her mom’s life a little easier.

Gracie’s smile slipped. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to do the dishes before school this morning. I can go down and clean up the kitchen right now.” She turned to leave, but her mom rested a hand on Gracie’s arm and gave her a sad smile.

“Please don’t. That’s not your responsibility. I wasn’t telling you that you shouldn’t have been painting—I was trying to tell you that I want you to do it more often.”

Gracie turned back to face her mom. “What?”

“I’ve put too much on you—expected too much. And because you are my brave and happy girl, you did it all without complaining. But what I feel bad about is that I didn’t see how much it was affecting you. Until your school called me. And when I saw your painting—well, that solidified it.”

“What’s wrong with my painting?” Gracie asked, feeling a surge of panic. Her mom had never criticized her paintings before. She always said you can’t pass judgment on someone else’s work of art.

“Nothing is wrong with it,” her mom said quickly. “It’s beautiful…but it’s sad. Look at all the harsh strokes you used. And your choice of colors. I’ve never seen you use so many reds and grays and blues before.”

Gracie looked at it. The paint wasn’t quite dry yet, but now that she had stepped back, she could see it. All the resentment and anxiety and sadness she had bottled up over the past month had exploded all over the canvas. No wonder she finally felt free.

“I guess I may have been a little down lately,” Gracie conceded, not wanting to clue her mom in on how much.

“About that phone call I received…”

Gracie felt the color drain from her face. She had been so concerned about the painting, she had somehow ignored the part about her school calling her mother. How much had they told her? Had they told her how many assignments Gracie hadn’t turned in, or maybe how often she was late to class? Were they giving her detention, or putting her on probation, or even… Gracie couldn’t bring herself to think she could be expelled.

“More specifically, one of your teachers called,” her mom said. “Mrs. Krump.”

Oh, that was so much worse. Not only had Gracie received a zero on her last assignment, but she had told Mrs. Krump everything that was going on at home. Had she called to reprimand Gracie’s mom? Gracie hadn’t meant to get anyone in trouble. Mrs. Krump wouldn’t call child protective services, would she?

“That seems unusual,” Gracie said slowly.

“I thought so too,” her mom agreed. “Until I heard what she had to say.”

“O-kay…” Was her mom purposely dragging this out? Was she trying to torture Gracie so she would break down and admit everything that had been going on at school? If so, it was working. A confession was on the tip of her tongue, but she was saved when her mom spoke first.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your school trip? It sounds like an honor to even be invited to go.”

Gracie swallowed her confession, but then didn’t know what to say. That was what all the drama was about? The school trip that Mrs. Krump had tried to get her to go on? A trip that Gracie wouldn’t be able to attend?

“I didn’t think there was anything to tell,” she finally said.

Her mom raised an eyebrow. “The scholarship application is due tomorrow. Mrs. Krump e-mailed the link to me.” She must have sensed Gracie’s hesitation, because her mom placed a hand on Gracie’s knee and said, “You need this opportunity. You need some space—some time to be you.”

Oh man, that sounded nice. Gracie would give anything to go away for a week. “But who would take care of the kids?” she asked, afraid to hope this really was possible.

“It’s during your spring break, so I’m planning on using my vacation days for the week.”

Gracie’s pulse raced with excitement. This could really happen, as long as she could get the scholarship application in on time.

Her mom paused. “Mrs. Krump told me you’ve had a hard time getting to class on time, and that she had to take ten percent off your grade on your last assignment for turning it in late. She’s afraid it’s occurring in some of your other classes as well.”

“She dropped my grade?” Gracie wondered out loud.

Her mom’s eyebrows crinkled in concern. “I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”

“I thought she had given me a zero on it.” Why would Mrs. Krump be lenient with her for a second time? It almost seemed like…well, like the history teacher wanted to help Gracie. But that couldn’t be right.

Gracie’s mom glanced at her watch. “Oh, shoot. I’ve got to get your brothers to their basketball practice. Hopefully they managed to shove down some dinner.” She stood, but then looked Gracie in the eyes. “I know this has been a rough transition for you; it has been for all of us. But we’re going to figure it out, okay?”

Gracie nodded and didn’t say anything more as she watched her mom hurry out. Her footsteps thumped down the stairs, calling for the boys to get their shoes on as she went.

Things were still chaotic, and not much had changed since before Gracie’s talk with her mom. But it felt like something had shifted, and Gracie now felt a hint of hope.

Not only that, but she was leaving for a week. No brothers or sisters or chores or homework for seven days.

Gracie was going to be free.