Gravity - By Abigail Boyd Page 0,28

hair was flat and practical, held in place with barrettes. As I flipped through them, I smiled. I could totally see them fighting tooth and nail over the bathroom mirror.

A musty old file lay at the bottom of the box. "Eleanor's Medical Records" someone had scribbled in black on the surface. I picked it up, fascinated by my find.

"Take a look at this," I said, lifting the cover. Hugh snatched it out of my hands almost immediately, before I got a chance to look at the yellowing papers inside.

"Claire would want this," he said distractedly.

"Okay. But can I just look at it before you take it to her?" I pleaded.

"You wouldn't be interested in grimy old papers," he said. He had already tucked the file underneath his arm.

"Are you kidding?" I asked. "You know me. I would definitely be interested in grimy old papers."

"Looking at it would be a little disrespectful, don't you think, kiddo? You know the kind of medical tests old people have to have. I'm sure there's nothing fascinating."

He put the file in going upstairs box next to him. The subject was closed.

My mind raced with reasons why he would be so eager to cover up whatever was in the file. I wondered if I really was just being rude by wanting to look at it, but I didn't see the harm when Eleanor was my own grandmother. She had always enjoyed fairly good health as far as I knew, no cancer or diabetes, and her death had obviously been an accident. Still, I tried to put it out of my mind.

We finished the storage room in a few hours. The space was almost totally clear, save for some tubs of Christmas decorations in the corner, an old TV and DVD player we had rigged up, and the treadmill. Finally I had the heart to put most of my old stuffed animals and dolls in the charity pile, although a few of them now sat on my dresser.

Later on, I sat down to finish homework in my room. The light rain had been replaced by a full on storm outside, and I could feel the rumbles of thunder underneath my socks. Not wanting to think about school while I was home, I had put off my homework until the last minute. I hated the fact that the weekend was almost up. Time raced when I was out of classrooms and echoing hallways. At least I had someone to talk to in Theo.

I tapped my pencil on my Geometry worksheet. I was struggling with math already, not much, but I could imagine how it would be soon. I hated it because it made me feel stupid, even though I wasn't. I filled in the holes in the letters of "surface area formulas" with pencil.

The last day of ninth grade captured my wandering thoughts. Jenna and I had been talking about moving on to sophomore year, sitting up front in Mr. Calhoun's class. He'd given us the last two weeks basically off, merely making us complete word find puzzles every day.

"It's like rush week. And it's finally over, and we survived," Jenna said, flaking orange polish off of her tiny fingernails. "Despite the hazing. And look, we still even have all our hair." She ran her hand lovingly through her springy, perfect curls. My hair could never do that.

"I guess you could look at it that way," I agreed. Mr. Calhoun handed out pamphlets about a job seminar the school was holding in July. Jenna picked hers up and read the summary on the back flap.

"Ever wonder what technology lies ahead? You can become involved in your future starting now...Like I would really want to rush right back up to Hawthorne when I finally get out of here," Jenna scoffed, tossing it on her desk. "No thanks. I wish I never had to see this place again."

She crumpled the pamphlet up and aimed for the garbage can sitting beside the door. She missed by a fraction but didn't bother to retrieve her refuse.

"It's not that bad, is it?" I asked. "I mean...most of the time."

"Are you kidding me?" Her nostrils flared like she was on the verge of losing her temper. "This town is a nightmare, even if it didn't try so hard to be." This from the person who used to have the world's most optimistic attitude.

I shifted uncomfortably at my desk. The way she was acting was the beginning of the rift between us, little cracks in