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THE TROUBLE WITH
WHEELS
By Maxine Hlavaty
Dedicated to my mom, Londa, for supporting me with all my ideas, however wacky they may be.
Maple Leaf Writing Project
Brattleboro, Vermont
Copyright 2015
From day one at Westbrook High School, Grace had never fit in or had any friends. Brooksville, Maine was a small town, and secrets got around very fast, which was why you had to guard them like a Rottweiler. She tried to make friends, she really did, but every time Grace got up the courage to talk to someone, she would say the weirdest things. Not on purpose, it just kind of happened. It was a bad habit, but she did it when she was nervous, which included any time meeting new people. One time this girl Lindsey sat down next to her at lunch, and Grace randomly blurted out ‘I’m going to steal your eyelashes.’ Lindsey looked at her, got up, and walked to a different table. Of course, Grace couldn’t blame her; she was a sad, sad case. Yet again, she walked to a lunch table trying to make new friends. Grace remembered her tactic of breaking the ice with jokes. She felt like it was the best way because no matter how nervous she was, she could never get them wrong with her good memory.
“Hey guys!” said Grace with as much enthusiasm and pep as she could muster.
“Ummm, hi Grace,” mumbled Nancy, who was one of the people sitting at the table.
“Wanna hear a knock-knock joke?” asked Grace. Pete groaned as if to say, ‘Oh no, not again.’ Grace continued anyway. “Knock knock.”
“Who’s there,” Anna sighed.
“A little old lady.”
“A little old lady who?” asked Anna.
“I didn’t know you could yodel.” Grace cracked up, but apparently no one else thought it was funny. “Ooh, ooh, I have another one.” This time, almost everyone at the table groaned. “Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?” sighed Nancy.
“A broken pencil,” replied Grace.
“A broken pencil who?”
“Nevermind. It’s pointless.” Grace was pretty sure she showered everyone within a two foot radius with spit while laughing. Slowly, everyone at the table got up and left after having to endure more knock knock jokes. Well, everyone except for Buckley, who was another school weirdo.
“I liked your knock-knock jokes, Grace,” he said in his squeaky voice.
“Thanks,” she uttered.
“Hey, do you wanna see my birthmarks?”
“Oh, I’m good, no th-” started Grace. Without warning Buckley took off his shirt and pointed to them on his freckle-covered body. Everyone started singing ‘Ooooooooooh Buckley and Grace, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!’ Buckley didn’t seem to notice and continued his birthmark counting, but Grace’s entire face turned as red as a tomato. That was another one of her bad habits. She quickly rushed to another empty table, but could still see Buckley across the room winking at her, and excitedly mapping out the constellation on his chest.
Grace sat in dismay and embarrassment scolding herself for scaring away more potential friends. The only time she had ever made a friend was in sixth grade. Her name was Audrey, and she moved away. Grace knew it wasn’t, but somehow, she felt like it was her fault that Audrey was gone.
“Hey there. My name’s George,” said a boy who had sat down at the table.
Grace had been so busy sulking, she hadn’t noticed him sit down.
“Hi, I like the shape your eyebrows make.” Dang it! There she went again, with the weird comments. She slapped her hand over her mouth and gave him an apologetic look. He laughed. It was a miracle! He hadn’t gotten up and walked away, or thought she was completely insane. “Sorry did you not hear me? Most people don’t make it half this long around me.”
“Do you want me to leave?” inquired George.
“No! No not at all.” she quickly blurted. He smiled again.
“Good, I didn’t plan on it.” This time she was the one to smile.
✵ ✵ ✵ ✵
Grace stepped into a big puddle and watched as it parted --then devoured-- her rain boots with a SPLOOSH. She was on the way back from another boring day devoid of George and social activity. Without George, there was no one to talk to, and now that she had that it was hard to let go of, even for a day. She couldn’t wait until he was officially free of the flu. Rainy weather was a perfect fit for her mood, she thought with dismay.
Grace walked into her living room, dropped her backpack on the floor, and proceeded to search the bookshelves for a good read. Today's choice was To Kill a Mockingbird, one of her favorites that she had read about a hundred times. Just as she was about to open to her bookmark, her mother’s voice filled their tiny living room.
“Grace!” called her mother. “I need you to help me put away the dishes!” She sighed and stood up.
“I will resume you later,” she told her book.
It was hard squeezing her and her mother in front of the miniscule sink, with her mother’s wheelchair and all, but they managed.
“Soooo, how was school today?” asked her mother.
Grace decided it was time to tell her mom about George. “Well, I met this guy that I really like.” Her mother tensed up.
“Hmmm,” replied her mother.
“He seems really nice, and I think we could be great friends.”
“That’s great, Honey,” she mumbled. She had tried to say it in a sincere way, but Grace could tell that her mother meant the opposite of what she said.
✵ ✵ ✵ ✵
Grace walked into her biology class with Ms. Leonardo and took a seat behind Buckley. Today they were dissecting frogs. She would usually be excited due to her fascination with amphibian anatomy, but today she wasn’t in the mood. Normally when Ms. Leonardo talked about the left and right systemic arches, the ventricle, the fat bodies, and the two livers Grace would’ve been captivated. Everyone else always looked on the verge of throwing up or gagging, but Grace would dig deeper into the mystery of frog guts.
“Easy there Grace, it looks like your frog is having a tough morning,” Ms. Leonardo’s voice cut through her daydream. Grace looked down and realized her frog had been accidentally clobbered. She felt horrible for the poor frog, but cheered up a little bit when she remembered it was already pre-dead.
When biology was over, she had to go to history. Ugh. History. She had her favorite and least favorite classes back to back. The teacher was Mr. Richardson who wasn't that bad but still wasn't very good. At least she had history with George, so that made time go a lot faster. It was the only class she had with him so she tried to make the best of it, but that was hard when you’re being bored to death. George was sitting behind her, so that meant he wasn’t sick anymore. He was the only thing that made history bearable.
Over the last few weeks, Grace had grown used to being around George, and found that he was fun, sweet, nice, goofy, and, pretty much awesome. For the first time in their new friendship, George had asked if she wanted to hang out. She had replied with “I’d love to! I just have to ask my mom first.” It had amazed her how normal he was about it, because it was a pretty big deal for her, since she never got asked anywhere.
At home that night, Grace walked into her kitchen to do the nightly dishes and gathered up her courage.
“Hey Mom, can I hang out with George tomorrow?” she asked, pretending to be casual. Again, her mother tensed up.
“We have chores to do tomorrow, you won’t have time.”
“What about the next day?” she asked again. Her mother ceased scrubbing goop off of the dishes and looked at her for a long, long time.
“We just have so much housework to do, Sweetie. I need a lot of help because of my situation.” At that, Grace decided it would be best to drop the conversation, and sat down to read her book. She didn’t notice that she was gripping it so hard, her knuckles were white as a sheet, until she tried to turn the page. As though she could sense her feelings from the other room, her mother wheeled herself in and put her hand on Grace’s knee.
“Tonight, I’m making chicken pineapple burritos with extra sour cream and ketchup,” she announced. Chicken pineapple burritos were her favorite food, and it was an added bonus that her mom (or anyone else) never asked her to share them.
“Oh…. really, Mom, you don’t have to. It’s too much trouble and makes the kitchen smell funky,” insisted Grace. Her mother laughed.
“I want to do this just for you.”
“Thank you,” murmured Grace.
✵ ✵ ✵ ✵
At school, George walked up to her grinning.
“Hey, so can you hang out tomorrow?” he asked.
“Oh. Uhm. I can’t… I’m busy,” she mumbled apologetically.
“What about the next day, then?”
“I’m busy then, too. Sorry. My mom and I just have a lot of work to do.”
“Oh.” Just like Grace, George thought it would be better to drop the subject. Grace could tell his smile was forced. “So, are you excited for history class about the great rulers of the world?”
“Yea, I can’t wait to hear about powerful people having temper tantrums and acting like babies,” she said mock enthusiastically. George guffawed.
“But that’s what makes history interesting,” he pointed out.
✵ ✵ ✵ ✵
Grace had thought a lot about how her mother had acted and what she had said, and decided to confront her about it. Instead of reading when she got home, Grace walked right up to her mother, gathering up her courage. "So, Mom. I've been thinking a lot about our conversation the other day, and I just don't know what the problem is with me hanging out with George.”
Her mother hesitated for just a second before saying "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be hanging out with boys.”
"Mom, I'm fourteen! You need to let me live my life. It's not up to you to decide my social life for me," she complained.
"Grace I'm your mother! It's perfectly up to me to decide when you should date."
"I’m an eighth grader mom! I'm not a child anymore, so stop treating me like one!"
"Grace! How dare you speak to me that way! I decide what goes in this house and I said no!" Grace ran to her room and slammed the door so hard, it shook. She glanced at the open window by her bed. Stomping over to it, she climbed out and dropped to the ground. She ran as fast as she could through the neighborhood until her legs felt like jelly. When she had to stop, she rested for a couple minutes to let her legs recover, then scrambled up the nearest tree. She almost fell off a couple times, but she made it to the top. It was eerily quiet, but Grace welcomed the silence, letting her mind clear of distractions and thoughts. Light pierced through the leaves of a nearby maple tree, creating a pattern on the ground with golden rays.
She had no idea how long it had been when she heard her mother’s voice ringing through the neighborhood.
“Grace!” she called. “Grace where are you!” She slowly and cautiously climbed down from her perch on the oak tree and walked towards the sound of her mother’s voice. Grace sighed.
“Over here Mom!” she shouted half-heartedly. Her mother was struggling to get her wheelchair over a root, the sun creating highlights in wisps that had escaped from her bun. Grace noticed a bead of sweat trickling down her mother’s forehead. A sudden wave of sadness and guilt washed over her.
Her mom wheeled closer, breathing heavily and asked, “Honey, why did you run away?”
Grace nudged a rock with her foot, stalling for time and took a deep breath. “You have to understand Mom, this is the first time I’ve had a friend in a long time, I just wish you could be happy for me instead of holding me back.”
Her mom's eyes welled up with tears, “I am happy for you. It’s just so hard seeing my little girl grow up.”
“Mom, I’m not a little girl anymore. In two years, I’ll be able to drive,” she explained.
Her mom got painfully quiet. Grace knew that this was a sensitive subject. Ever since the accident, they never mentioned cars or driving.
Her mom stared at the ground for a while, and then finally answered softly.
“I know. I guess I just wished I could hold on to you just a little bit longer.”
There was an uncomfortable silence “Let’s go home Mom,” Grace suggested. She gripped the wheelchair handles and gently guided her towards home.
Grace wheeled her back to their house -- her mom was very tired from wheeling herself so far. When they rounded the corner to her house, they saw George waiting on the doorstep.
“Hey,” he greeted.
“Hi!” answered Grace.
“Grace, did you want to introduce me to your friend?” asked her mother.
“Oh, right! George, this is my mother, Sylvia, and Mom this is George.” They all talked for a while, and thankfully her mom and George got along well, just as she had hoped they would.
After a while her mom suggested “Hey, do you guys want to walk to the park? I’m gonna head inside and rest.” George politely held the door open while her mother wheeled herself in.
George turned to looked at Grace who suddenly felt shy.
“You know, your eyebrows really do make a good shape,” said Grace.
“In this light your hair looks like spaghetti,” George joked. They both laughed.
From the other side of the screen door, her mother chuckled.
“You two are like peanut butter and jelly.”
the end
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