Grace

by Morris Gleitzman

  I tried to explain how that wasn’t right either. It felt a bit rude, having a private conversation on stage, so I explained it in a loud voice so everyone in the hall could hear.

  ‘I’m not trying to be disobedient,’ I said to Mr Reece. ‘I’m just trying to think for myself. My dad reckons we all should.’

  Mr Reece scowled.

  ‘Your father is an ungodly man,’ he said.

  That made me feel sad and upset. Mr Reece was a smart person, but he’d got it totally wrong about Dad.

  ‘Dad reckons it takes more than a bit of independence to make God cross,’ I said. ‘He reckons God wants us to ask questions. That’s why we’ve got brains. And computers.’

  Mr Reece was still glaring at me.

  I could see I needed to explain some more.

  ‘Questions help us understand things,’ I said. ‘Like, why can only people in our church go to heaven?’

  I was hoping Mr Reece would be less wrathful when he saw me giving examples like Miss Parry had taught us to do in essays.

  ‘There must be enough room in heaven for more than just the people in our church,’ I continued. ‘God can make things as big as He likes. Look at outer space …’

  Before I could finish, Mr Reece dragged me off the stage.

  I was disappointed I couldn’t finish my question. A few of the kids were looking interested.

  Mr Reece marched me out of the hall and down the corridor towards his office.

  ‘Why do you do this, Grace?’ he said. ‘Why can’t you be more like your friend Delilah? For years I used to think your father was the most disobedient student we’d ever had in this school, but you’re worse. How much longer do you think we’re going to put up with this behaviour?’

  I didn’t say anything. I could see Mr Reece didn’t want an answer. That was the difference between me and him. When I asked a question I always wanted an answer.

  Oh well, at least this was more like a normal day. I knew where I was going now.

  To the Bible solitary room.

  Chapter 6

  There was a knock on the door.

  I was sitting in the little Bible solitary room, reading verses from the Bible over and over out loud like you had to. For a sec I thought it was Mr Reece coming back to check I was still reading the ones about obedience and respect. Except Mr Reece didn’t usually knock. It wasn’t that he was rude, just the principal.

  The door opened and Miss Parry came in.

  Her face was sad and concerned.

  ‘Oh, Grace,’ she said.

  I could tell she wanted to say more, but I couldn’t work out what. She often had that look in class. Sort of worried and caring. Sometimes I wondered if Miss Parry was an angel in teacher’s clothing.

  ‘Don’t worry, Miss Parry,’ I said. ‘I’m fine.’

  I thought I was. I’d been in Bible solitary heaps of times. The worst that usually happened was I got a sore throat from all the reading.

  Miss Parry gave another sigh.

  ‘Whatever happens, Grace,’ she said quietly, ‘remember that God will always be with you.’

  I guessed Miss Parry must have heard bad things about my family bible project. Mr Gosper must have told them to her.

  I reached for the folder in my bag so Miss Parry could read it for herself and make up her own mind. But before I could show it to her, she said something I wasn’t expecting.

  ‘Probably best if you tidy yourself up a bit,’ she said. ‘Before the elders get here.’

  I stared at her.

  The elders?

  Was I in that much trouble?

  My hair took ages as usual. I undid the whole lot and rolled it back up as tight as I could and stuck all the hairpins back in. I could see Miss Parry wanted to help me, but of course she didn’t because you weren’t allowed to touch a person who was in Bible solitary.

  I gave Miss Parry a grateful smile anyway. She was lucky. Her hair was completely straight and she wore it tied into a knot completely untroubled by the ways of hairpins.

  When I’d finished she stared sadly at my bun.

  ‘That looks lovely,’ said Miss Parry. ‘The elders like tidy hair. When they see yours, I pray their hearts will open to you.’

  I didn’t ask Miss Parry what the elders were coming to punish me for. If she’d been allowed to tell me, she would have done.

  As Miss Parry left, I gave her another grateful smile for warning me as best she could. But inside bulk worry was upon me. I knew how Daniel must have felt in the lions’ den waiting for the lions to arrive.

  Well, not exactly. Lions are magnificent and elegant. Our church elders were stern-looking men in business suits, often with dandruff. It wasn’t their fault they were stern. It must be a really stressful job, trying to work out what God wants and making everybody do it and punishing people who don’t.

  While I waited, I thought about tearing up my project and stuffing it into the ventilator grille in the wall.

  I decided not to. Mr Gosper had seen it, so there was no point. Plus doing that would look as if I was ashamed of it, which I wasn’t.

  Instead I had a quick word with God.

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘This isn’t a big deal. Please concentrate on giving Mum and Dad the strength to solve the problem they didn’t want to talk about last night, whatever it is. I’ll be fine, even if the elders yell and get angry and punish me a lot. Thanks.’

  After I’d read out the obedience and respect verses about fifty times more, the door of the Bible solitary room opened again.

  I braced myself.

  Uncle Vern came in.

  I went floppy with relief.

  ‘Hello, Grace,’ said Uncle Vern, smiling.

  He was carrying a chair. He sat down on it.

  ‘Hello, Uncle Vern,’ I said.

  Behold, was I pleased to see him. I’d always liked Uncle Vern. He had the same soft dark eyes as Mum. OK, he was an elder now, but still not scary like the others.

  ‘So, Grace,’ he said. ‘Bible solitary again, eh?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  ‘These things happen,’ said Uncle Vern. ‘Would you like a drink? Something to eat?’

  ‘No thanks,’ I said.

  I was feeling a bit hungry and thirsty, but Uncle Vern must have forgotten that eating and drinking were absolutely forbidden in Bible solitary.

  ‘So,’ said Uncle vern, smiling again. ‘That dad of yours, eh?’

  I nodded again. I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant.

  ‘He does put ideas into your head,’ said Uncle Vern. ‘Your dad.’

  Now I understood. Uncle Vern wanted me to show gratitude, which was another thing we often read verses about in Bible solitary.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Dad encourages me to think about a lot of things. His brain is amazing. He probably has more interesting thoughts than any other home lighting warehouse manager in Australia. Plus he’s brilliant at explaining things. Like what the Bible really means. How when it says demons it might just mean jealousy or pimples, stuff like that.’

  I stopped. Uncle Vern was frowning. I realised I was probably sounding a bit boastful.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  ‘That’s OK,’ said Uncle Vern.

  He looked at me for a while.

  A sudden worry came upon me that maybe I was getting Dad into trouble.

  ‘Dad didn’t give me the idea for the family bible project,’ I said. ‘I got that on my own.’

  Uncle Vern nodded.

  ‘But,’ he said, ‘your dad gives you other ideas.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, relieved Dad was off the hook. ‘Dad encourages me to think about things and ask questions. And I encourage him back.’

  This was feeling a bit weird. Uncle Vern knew me and Dad talked about stuff because he’d heard us do it when he came to our place.

  ‘What sort of questions have you been asking lately?’ said Uncle Vern.

  I should have thought more
carefully before I answered. But sitting in that stuffy room, all I could think was that Dad would want me to tell the truth.

  God would too.

  ‘Last week,’ I said, ‘I asked Dad if animals could go to heaven.’

  Uncle Vern frowned again.

  ‘Animals,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And insects.’

  ‘Insects,’ said Uncle Vern, frowning even more. ‘Like slugs?’

  ‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘And all those little micro-organisms that live inside us and keep us healthy. It wouldn’t be fair if they couldn’t go to heaven too.’

  Uncle Vern sighed. His shoulders slumped a bit. I felt bad. Some people get nauseous when you talk about tiny creatures living inside us. Except Uncle Vern didn’t look nauseous. He looked more like someone with a headache.

  He asked me lots more questions about the sort of things me and Dad talked about. I gave him truthful answers, including details of a chat I had with Dad in the backyard about the creation of the universe and whether God had really done it in seven actual normal-type days.

  ‘Dad reckons,’ I said, ‘that even for God, who’s the most amazing creative force in existence and who invented things like love and planets and sleep, seven days is a big ask.’

  I could see that poor Uncle Vern was feeling the stress of being a new church elder. He was doing lots of sighing and frowning and rubbing his temples. I started to worry that perhaps the micro-organisms inside Uncle Vern’s head weren’t doing their job properly.

  Finally Uncle Vern stood up.

  ‘Thank you, Grace,’ he said. ‘God appreciates your honesty.’

  That was nice of him.

  He pointed to the Bible.

  ‘Keep reading,’ he said, and went out.

  Uncle Vern must have remembered about the ban on food and drink in Bible solitary, because he didn’t offer me any more before he left.

  Three hours later I was starving and parched and my throat was just a croak. It was lunchtime, and I couldn’t understand why Mr Reece or Miss Parry hadn’t come to get me.

  This was the longest Bible solitary ever.

  As well as hungry and thirsty, I was also worried and confused. I kept thinking how Uncle Vern hadn’t actually said why he’d come to see me.

  Was I in trouble or not?

  To calm myself down, I stopped reading about obedience and respect and read some verses about God loving and protecting children.

  The Bible’s good like that. There’s loads of mega-scary stuff and some bits that make you feel sick, but if you know where to look there are other bits that are like cuddles.

  Finally I heard voices talking softly in the corridor outside. I could tell one voice was Uncle Vern’s and the other was Mr Reece’s.

  I didn’t usually listen to other people’s private conversations, but I was desperate to find out how much longer I’d have to stay in that room.

  I pressed my ear to the door. I still couldn’t hear much. Just a few words here and there.

  ‘Regrettable’ was one.

  ‘Painful decision’ were two others.

  And ‘break it to her.’

  I didn’t have a clue what Uncle Vern and Mr Reece were talking about. Not until I heard one other word.

  ‘Expelled.’

  I went weak with shock. So weak I almost had to sit down again. But I needed to be sure. I pulled the door open.

  As soon as they saw me, Uncle Vern and Mr Reece stopped talking. It didn’t matter. I could tell from the guilty looks on their faces what had come to pass.

  I was being expelled from school.

  I gaped at them, stunned.

  How could they?

  This was the only school our church had. People in our church weren’t allowed to go to any other school. If I was expelled I’d have to stay at home. No friends. No teachers. Just Mum and Dad’s disappointed faces.

  ‘Please,’ I begged Uncle Vern and Mr Reece. ‘Don’t.’

  Uncle Vern grabbed my shoulder and tried to steer me back into the room.

  ‘Grace,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t be listening.’

  ‘Back inside, young lady,’ said Mr Reece sternly. ‘You know you mustn’t leave the Bible solitary room until you’re told to.’

  ‘It won’t be much longer,’ said Uncle Vern. ‘Sit tight and we’ll bring you something to eat and drink.’

  My head was almost bursting. Heaps of confused questions were upon me.

  Was I being cast out because of my project? Or assembly? Or the tow-truck driver’s son? I shouldn’t have let him touch me. Nobody wants you in their school if they think you’re defiled.

  ‘Uncle Vern,’ I said, close to tears. ‘Is this because I’ve got demons?’

  He didn’t reply. Just exchanged a look with Mr Reece.

  ‘I don’t think I have got demons,’ I said. ‘I don’t feel like I have.’

  Uncle Vern gave a long sigh.

  ‘You haven’t,’ he said. ‘Not any more.’

  I didn’t understand. But before I could ask Uncle Vern what ‘not any more’ meant, they pushed me back inside the Bible solitary room.

  As the door was closing I turned my head to one side, desperately hoping they’d notice my nice neat bun and have second thoughts about chucking me out. Then I realised that after three and a half hours, I probably had wisps out everywhere.

  The door closed.

  I slumped down in the chair.

  I asked God not to let it happen.

  ‘Please don’t let them expel me,’ I said.

  But even as I was asking, I knew I shouldn’t be doing that.

  The first thing Dad ever taught me about God was don’t expect Him to do miracles every time you’ve got a problem. Ask for His advice, yes. Ask for His encouragement, OK. But we have to solve our problems ourselves. If we need help making something happen, or stopping something, that’s what families and friends are for.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said to God. ‘I forgot.’

  I listened at the door.

  When I was sure Uncle Vern and Mr Reece had gone, I walked quickly and quietly out of the Bible solitary room and out of the school and went to get Dad’s help.

  Chapter 7

  I sprinted through the outside world to the home-lighting warehouse where Dad worked.

  The warehouse was in a completely different suburb to the school. It was a long sprint, specially with a heavy school bag and an anxious heart.

  I was lucky I wasn’t killed.

  I forsook pedestrian crossings and just dashed between moving cars without even thanking them. For there was a nagging fear inside me that if I didn’t get to Dad in time it would be too late. Once me being expelled was official, I might never be able to get back in. Not even if Dad used his best arguments and I promised to be meek and obedient for ever more.

  I did stop outside a phone box with the idea of ringing Dad. Public phones were forbidden in our church because outsiders used them, but this was an emergency.

  Then I remembered I didn’t have money on me, or Dad’s phone number, plus I wasn’t even sure how phone boxes worked.

  So I sprinted on, wishing we didn’t have the other church rule about phones. The one that said you couldn’t have a mobile until you were twenty-one in case you were tempted to visit ungodly websites or ring outsiders for social purposes.

  Which made me even more anxious.

  Because if I got expelled, what would I be able to do all day except visit websites?

  At last I arrived at Dad’s work.

  When I was a little kid, I used to think heaven would be just like the home-lighting warehouse. Huge and air-conditioned, with soft music playing non-stop and thousands of pretty lights hanging from the ceiling.

  I used to love being there. The staff were kind and friendly, even the ones I’d never sat next to at church.

  It was a happy place.

  The day woe came upon our family, it was very different.

  I ran panting into the wareh
ouse and behold, nobody would talk to me.

  Not a single person.

  ‘Hi, Samuel,’ I said to a nice man with freckles who was Delilah’s cousin. ‘Have you seen my Dad around?’

  It was like Samuel didn’t even hear me. He pretended to look closely at something on the cash register screen. But I could see there weren’t even any numbers on it.

  Had he heard about me being expelled?

  Was this how much disgrace I was in?

  I ran from one end of the warehouse to the other, asking every staff member I saw if they knew where Dad was, and talk about rude, not one of them answered. They all just looked away.

  I was tempted to start asking customers, even though the church rule was you could only speak to outsiders if you were selling them something. But most of the customers wouldn’t even have known who Dad was.

  ‘Mr Olsen,’ I pleaded. ‘Do you know where my dad is?’

  Mr Olsen was the assistant manager. He knew where everything was, even screw-in bulbs for old-fashioned Christmas lights. But he did the same as the others. Stared at me with a very uncomfortable look on his face, then pretended to be busy with some lava lamps.

  An unchristian temper came upon me, that’s how stressed I was.

  Poo to you all, I thought. I’ll find him myself.

  I raced to the back of the store and up the metal stairs to Dad’s office. He wasn’t often in it, because he liked to work down with the other staff. But it was the only other place I could think of.

  Dad wasn’t in his office now.

  Neither was anything else much.

  Dad’s office was bare. No books on his shelves, no clutter on his desk. Even the framed photo of me and Mum and the twins that we’d given him for his birthday wasn’t on the wall.

  Everything was in cardboard boxes on the floor.

  I stared at the boxes, my brain darting around like a plague of locusts having an anxiety attack.

  Fear was upon me that something terrible had happened. Something even worse than me being expelled.

  If a person’s had an accident, I thought frantically to myself, and he’s at the hospital or the police station or the smash repair shop, you don’t bung his belongings into boxes. You only do that if he’s not coming back.

  And then I had a very scary thought.