Rhythms of Grace Read Free Page A

performance with Ngozi. My parents had the worst fight I can remember over it, but Daddy put his foot—both his feet actually—down on the subject.
    “You weren’t there. You didn’t see it. She has to go. Joyce will take good care of her,” he’d said.
    Mom still stood there with her mouth poked out every time Daddy took me to practice. I was never late or missed even though Daddy had to leave the plant early sometimes to do it. Mom vowed never to take me. And now Daddy wasn’t home.
    I pressed my face to the stained-glass room divider behind my father’s recliner. Everything looked yellow now and I could almost imagine him sitting there, half-asleep with his keys on his lap. Or worse, awake but playing sleep so he wouldn’t have to argue with my mother, who was perched on the edge of the couch, glasses sliding down her nose.
    “Don’t come in here looking all sorry like that. He’s gone to Cleveland, don’t you remember?” She looked sad and happy at the same time.
    Cleveland. For his job. Yes, I remembered now. Oh well. I kicked the couch. Miss Joyce had given me the lead this time. A solo. If I didn’t show, Zeely would tear it up as my understudy, but I wanted to do it. This was all I had left. Mom had already made me quit the Buds of Promise choir. She said I had to choose. Now it seemed I was getting nothing for nothing. I took a deep breath and said the unthinkable.
    “I need a ride.”
    “Pardon me?” My mother’s glasses slid off her nose, but didn’t fall. Too stubborn. Just like their owner.
    Well, today was my turn to be stubborn. This was ridiculous. “I need an r-i-d-e. Please, Mom. It’s dress rehearsal.” I looked up at the clock and thought about telling her that we needed to go right now, or going to her room and bringing her her shoes and purse, but I thought better of it. Best not to look too desperate. “Please.”
    The glasses hit the floor then. No longer Mom, Emily Dixon, the hardest math teacher in the county, stood and crossed her arms. “If you think I’m driving over there tonight for you to hop around with those little jungle bunnies, you’re mistaken. Sadly so.” She picked up her glasses. “Besides, I’m heading out anyway. I have a meeting.”
    My throat tightened. “But your school is—”
    “I said I’m not going that far, Diana!” Her eyebrows stood at attention for emphasis.
    I tried to raise my eyebrows too but it just made my head hurt. This whole thing was making my head hurt. Why did everything have to be a fight? All the other girls’ parents would be there cheering them on. Then I saw something in her eyes. Guilt.
    “Daddy asked you, didn’t he? He asked you to take me and you said you would. And now you’re going to go against your word?”
    My mother didn’t answer. She got up, walked to the closet and slipped on her shoes, one at a time, then she smoothed her skirt and headed for the door. On her way out, she opened her purse and flipped three coins onto the table by the door. Two quarters and a dime.
    Bus fare.
    “Make sure you have your key and come straight home,” she said before slamming the door.
    Where else would I go after walking home in the dark? The moon? “I-I will.”
    But I didn’t come straight home. I died first, scratching and screaming and trying to fly. I died loud and bloody, but nobody heard me, not even God.
    So I came home and went to bed.

    I had taken the bus.
    Or at least I had tried.
    There was a boy there, his face covered in a ski mask, though it wasn’t quite cold enough. He had sad eyes and an unlit cigarette. I wished I’d worn my tennis shoes instead of trying to show off my new cowboy boots, two-toned black and gray. I don’t know why I said hello—maybe because we were there alone, waiting for the bus, and since it was still in my safe neighborhood, I didn’t have the sense to be scared yet. That was saved for the other end of the line.
    The boy-man just nodded, mumbling to himself. I checked my