Grace by Richard Paul Evans Page A

in foxholes. On Sunday, six days into the crisis, Americans flocked to churches. While our country was praying, President Kennedy and U.N. Secretary-General U Thant reached an agreement with the Soviets. Khrushchev agreed to dismantle the missiles in Cuba in exchange for a no-invasion agreement and a secret removal of the Jupiter and Thor missiles in Turkey. The news flooded the airwaves and the world breathed a collective sigh of relief.
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    People celebrate in different ways. Some people lit firecrackers. Others honked their horns or clanged pans. Up and down our street there was no sign of life. It’s probably the one place on the planet that an atom bomb blast might have gone unnoticed.

CHAPTER Seventeen
    Today I asked Eric to be my boyfriend.
I know it’s supposed to be the other way around,
but he’s shy and it would probably take a hundred years
otherwise and by then I might change my mind.
    GRACE’S DIARY
    MONDAY, OCT. 29
    As intense as the last days had been, it was surprising how quickly everything returned to normal. It was like a near miss at a traffic intersection; everyone just keeps on driving.
    As I was walking to my fourth period art class the principal’s voice blared over the school’s P.A. system.
    â€œAttention, faculty and students, your attention, please. This is Principal Allen. We have a missing ninth-grade student. If you know anything concerning the whereabouts of Madeline Webb or have seen her in the last two weeks, please report immediately to my office. Thank you.”
    I always thought that Principal Allen’s bass voice echoing down the school’s tile hallways sounded like the voice of God, but this time his words actually sent shivers through me. I felt as though I was wearing a T-shirt that said, I KNOW WHERE SHE IS. I avoided eye contact with everyone in the crowded hallway as I made my way to my next class.
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    Later that afternoon, Mrs. Waller started off Spanish class by saying, “This has been a trying time for all of us, and many of you missed class last week. Considering the nature of the crisis our country was facing, I think it’s understandable. As such, no one will be penalized for their absence.”
    The class erupted, especially the basketball players on the back row who, for the most part, had taken the opportunity to skip school and were now slapping and ribbing their friends who had come.
    Mrs. Waller loudly cleared her throat. “Back to order, class.” She waited until the classroom settled. “Thank you. Also, I’m sure you all heard Principal Allen’s announcement about one of your classmates, Madeline Webb. If anyone has seen Madeline or knows where she is, please see me after class.”
    I’m sure it was my imagination, but it seemed like her gaze kept returning to me. I probably looked terrified or guilty or both.
    â€œAll right, let’s get back to work. Turn to page one hundred and seventeen in your text. Today we are studying the adverb where .” While I was frantically flipping through the pages of my textbook, Mrs. Waller walked from the blackboard to the center of the room near my desk. “ ¿Dónde estás , Eric?
    I looked down at my book then back at her. “Uh, I’m here.”
    A few students laughed.
    â€œYes, I can see that. Now please answer in Spanish.”
    I blushed. “Sorry. Yo, aqui. ”
    â€œ Muy bien . Eric, can you say, ‘Where is Madeline?’?”
    After a moment I said, “I don’t know where she is, ma’am.”
    This time everyone in the room laughed. “No, I want you to say in Spanish, ‘Where is Madeline. ¿Dónde está Madeline ?”
    â€œOh.” I turned crimson. “ ¿Dónde está Madeline?”
    â€œMuy bien.”
    I was glad when the bell rang.
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    As soon as I got home I went straight to the clubhouse. Grace had been painting watercolor pictures of flowers. I had no idea