“Okay, okay,” Grace yelled back, hopping out of bed and scrambling into some clothes. She brushed her teeth and hair quickly, and ran out the front door to Joey, who was waiting in the car to drive them to school.
“Jeez, what’s with you this morning?” He sounded very much like a big brother.
“Sorry, I was having a…strange dream when you knocked.”
“A nightmare?”
She smiled. “No, it was a good dream. I was still having it when you woke me up.”
“Oh, I didn’t know girls had dreams like that.” He grinned. “Seriously, are you okay?”
She looked at him, momentarily confused, and then remembered the scene from the night before. In her rush to get ready, she hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror. She flipped open the visor mirror and cringed at the bruise on her cheek and the swollen lip.
She winced at the pain in her left side as she reached into her backpack to extract a small cosmetic bag. The makeup was a gift from Rose, who taught her how to apply it. She’d never worn makeup before and still rarely did, but she dabbed a small dollop of concealer onto her finger and swirled it into her cheek. There wasn’t much she could do about the lip.
“I guess so,” she said at last. “Has he ever done that to you?”
“No, but he has hit my mom before. Only when he drinks, but he’s been drinking a lot more lately. I’m sorry he hurt you.”
He sounded like he meant it. “Thanks, Joe. You’re a good big brother.”
Grace was still feeling out of it in first period, and she thought about her dream. About all of her strange dreams. Why the name June Crandall? What did it mean? In last night’s dream, June was a man, but he still had the same blue eyes and the same smile. It was a face she recognized. It had to mean something, but what?
Two weeks later, Mike still hadn’t apologized for hurting her. The matter was simply dropped and never spoken of again. Her bruises healed, but she hadn’t forgotten the beating. She kept her distance from him and was careful to mind her manners at the dinner table. And he came home mostly sober, so things were a lot calmer. Still, unless she was helping Rose in the kitchen, she stayed in her room and out of his way. She never told anyone about what happened for fear that she would be sent back to the group home. It was her secret. One of many she’d collected in her young life so far.
One night while they were preparing dinner, Rose’s scarf slipped off and Grace saw her head for the first time since she’d started chemotherapy. Grace knew Rose had lost her hair, but seeing her now upset her more than she could’ve imagined. She just looked…stark. It was a few seconds before she realized why she felt so strongly—she was remembering her first dream of the concentration camp. Rose looked like one of the women in the barracks.
“What’s it like, Rose?” she asked. “Cancer, I mean.”
Rose looked at her thoughtfully. “It’s mostly scary. Fear of the unknown. At first it’s the fear of what the treatments will be like. Then you get used to that, and the fear of death creeps in. And it isn’t so much the fear of death, but the fear of leaving my family behind. I pray that I get to watch you and Joe grow up and start families of your own. If I can make it that far, that will be enough.”
Grace watched her face as she spoke and admired her courage. Rose was a survivor, just like her. It was one of the things that bound them together. Grace knew that living with Mike, Rose had endured at least a certain amount of abuse and probably, like her, often wondered when the next shoe was going to drop. And now she was fighting cancer.
“I understand the fear of the unknown, believe me.” It was a simple statement, but a powerful one.
Rose flipped off the stove and turned to Grace. “I can’t begin to imagine all that you’ve been through, sweetheart. For whatever hardships you’ve had to endure, I’m truly sorry. You are such a sweet, beautiful young woman and I am so glad to have you in my life. I promise you, as long as you’re here with us, I will protect you. I’m afraid I haven’t done a very good job of it so far, but you have my word that Mike will never hurt you again.”
She drew Grace into her arms. They were two wounded souls who needed each other and had somehow managed to find one another. Grace went to bed that night and begged God to spare Rose’s life. She wasn’t perfect, but she was the best thing that’d happened to her in a long time, and Grace was beginning to need her.
God help her, she didn’t want to, but she did.
In early May, a crowd of people gathered around the English department bulletin board, looking at the results of the essay contest. When Grace arrived, they clapped. She looked around to see who they were clapping for and realized it was her.
She’d done it. She’d won the contest! Her essay would now be entered into the National Essay Contest. When she shared the news with Rose, the two of them whooped and danced around the kitchen in celebration. Then she wrote to Maggie and Valerie to share the good news.
In the last week of school, an announcement came over the loud speaker. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I come to you this morning with some excellent news. It seems that our school, and one outstanding student in particular, has received national recognition. It is my pleasure to announce to you that Grace Elizabeth Adams is the winner of the National Essay Contest. Congratulations, Miss Adams, on a job well done.”
Excitement tumbled through her. She couldn’t believe it. That meant that she would have her essay published in Reader’s Digest. It felt like the start of something big.
Grace was asked to read the essay at the senior class graduation ceremony—an honor for a freshman student—which she readily agreed to. She got to invite her family, and even Valerie came. When graduation day arrived, Grace walked up to the platform, trying hard to steady her voice as she spoke.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Grace Adams, and I have been asked to read my essay to you tonight. The name of my essay is Sold into Servitude, Life in a Nineteenth Century Japanese Bordello.”
Though she didn’t speak them aloud, there were a lot of similarities between Hiroko’s life and her own. Both had been abandoned by their birth parents and forced into lives they never would have chosen for themselves. Both had to fight for their survival. Both had a friend who was like a sister. Hiroko had June, Grace had Valerie.
When she finished speaking, the entire gymnasium erupted into applause. She watched in surprise as the audience rose to their feet and continued to clap. It took only a moment to realize that they were clapping for her, and when she did, her smile could not be contained.
She had the same feeling two weeks later when she received her copy of the Reader’s Digest issue that contained her story.
“Millions of people will be reading it!” Rose beamed with pride.
No words could describe how she felt as she handed the accompanying check over to the bank clerk. She was opening her first ever savings account.
Over the summer, Rose enrolled Grace in a creative writing class offered as part of the summer curriculum at the adult education center. Grace loved the class and learned a lot. She wrote and submitted two more articles to Reader’s Digest, one of which they published.