The Life and Times of Gracie Faltrain Read Free

it’s not talked about. I tried to explain it to Dad at the beginning of the year. I figured if any adult was going to understand, it’d be him.
    â€˜Dad, it’s like this. You’ve got your cool kid. Very popular. Looks good in whatever they wear. Gets by in school, people know they’re smart but they don’t know. If you know what I mean.’
    â€˜Right. Okay,’ he said.
    I thought he was with me. ‘Then you’ve got your sporty type. That’s me. I had to work hard last year to get in with the right crowd, and it’s all paying off. Then you’ve got your smart kids. People know it. They know it. They keep to themselves. Then you’ve got your loners.’
    â€˜Who hangs out with them?’
    â€˜Nobody, Dad. That’s why they’re the loners.’
    â€˜That’s awful. Couldn’t you hang out with the loners?’
    â€˜Dad, you don’t hang out with people you don’t like.’
    â€˜You might like them. I bet I could name a loner at school who you would think was pretty cool.’
    â€˜Name one then. Name just one.’
    â€˜Me.’
    â€˜Oh, Dad.’
    I know what you’re thinking: Gracie Faltrain, that’s a harsh philosophy to live by. People are people and you can’t judge a book by its cover. Don’t be too hard on me. He’s an adult after all, and I’m just a kid.
    But back to the party. I felt good in my black singlet top and hipster jeans. Casual. Cool. I checked my fly quietly. There’s nothing that’ll spoil the effect quicker than flashing your undies to the world.
    I walked past Nick Johnson slowly. Slow enough for him to stop me if he wanted to have a chat. I was convinced he was going to ignore me when I felt a hand on my arm. Electric. Little hairs stood up all over my skin.
    When Nick talks, it’s like you’re the only person in the room. Imagine a dark stage; his eyes are the spotlights. You can’t move. ‘More like an animal caught in the headlights,’ Jane always says to me, but I know she agrees.
    â€˜Gracie Faltrain,’ he said slowly as his hand flicked hair back from his eyes. I swear he waited about ten full seconds here; he didn’t stop looking at me. ‘ Hi .’ He leant on the word, his hips tilted forward. We were standing so close that his hair almost touched my face.
    The problem is, Nick talks like this to everyone. The hard part that night was working out if he was just making a passing comment or if he really wanted to have a conversation. If he wanted me to keep talking, then we were having more than a hello. We were having a moment. If it was just a hello it would be okay, but then it was my own moment and that definitely wasn’t as good. The trick was to work out what he was thinking. I tried mental telepathy. I didn’t get anywhere. Step two: try to look at what he’s doing with his hands. I’d read somewhere once that body language can tell you how a person really feels. He was scratching his ear and eating a chip. They weren’t in the book. Step three: just keep talking and hope he’s not trying to think of a way to leave.
    â€˜So, ah, what are you doing on the weekend?’ I asked.
    â€˜Nothing much. Maybe seeing a movie.’
    â€˜Which one?’
    â€˜Haven’t decided,’ he answered slowly. ‘What are you doing? Maybe –’ And then Annabelle Orion bumped into him andspilt her drink down his t-shirt. Nick went to the bathroom. I went out of my mind. Maybe what? Maybe what?
    â€˜Sorry, Gracie,’ Annabelle smiled. Her teeth reminded me of stories I’d read about people swimming outside the flags, coming face to face with dark shapes moving under the water.
    â€˜You’re not sorry.’ I breathed hot anger over her. I knew from painful experience that nothing is an accident when it comes to Annabelle Orion.
    â€˜Calm down, Faltrain.’ Jane passed me some