Sustaining Grayce

CHAPTER ONE

Grayce sat rigidly on a chair outside the principal’s office while scenes from her life passed before her. Now she knew how convicts on death row felt while awaiting execution. Once again, she unfolded the note that summoned her to Mr. Pane’s office. Could it possibly be meant for another Grayce Elizabeth Haggerty in the ninth grade? She shook her head, knowing full well she was the intended victim. The thing she didn’t know was why.

She went through a mental checklist. Classes were going fine. Check. She never caused trouble for her teachers. Check. Maybe there’s a problem at home. Oh no. The familiar knots began to form in her stomach. She tried to distract herself by studying the portrait of President Lyndon B. Johnson hanging on the wall in front of her.

Several years ago, a magazine article had shown the President lifting his dog by its ears and Grayce had developed an instant dislike for the man. Your days are numbered, she thought with satisfaction, staring at the portrait. Yesterday, America had elected Richard Nixon as the thirty-seventh President of the United States. Grayce didn’t understand much about politics. She couldn’t even comprehend why anyone would want to be President.

Earlier this year, she had witnessed television reports of the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy. Two good men trying to help their country and they were killed for it. The world was going crazy, it seemed. Every day in the news there were reports of anti-war demonstrations, racial violence, riots on college campuses, protests over high crime and even higher taxes. Who could possibly have solutions to all the problems in the world? Grayce smiled despondently. She knew Who had the solutions, but He was less popular than taxes!

“Grayce, you can go in now,” the secretary announced. Traitorous feet escorted her to the door bearing Mr. Pane’s nameplate. She lifted a shaking fist and knocked.

“Enter,” ordered a deep voice.

Grayce slowly approached the desk, smoothed out her note, and handed it to Mr. Pane. He briefly scanned the note and turned his full attention to Grayce. She briefly scanned his handsome features and turned her full attention to the floor. She could feel heat rush to her face and wished for the thousandth time she didn’t blush so easily. It was one of the curses of fair skin. She stood there blushing, shaking, and full of stomach knots. She hoped Mr. Pane didn’t notice.

“Grayce, have a seat,” he ordered. Her hope vanished. He knew, and he wanted her in a chair before she fainted. She sat down and risked a glance in his direction. He looked worried. Not a good sign. Grayce’s heart started beating overtime, not wanting to be left out of the panic attack.