She gets to stand on the balance beam until she’s knocked off, or until one of the bored-looking attendants finally decides her turn has lasted long enough, which is usually quite a while, because she’s never been knocked off. Not even when she was four and they first started coming here on Daddy-Daughter Days. (Which she later amended, in her head, to Divorced Daddy-Daughter Days.)

She barely has to pay attention now. She’s thinking about her math homework, in fact, when she sends the latest kid falling into the pit, and her newest challenger steps up.

He’s taller than her, and much heavier, at least thirteen years old. He’s wearing a T-shirt that says NO FAT CHICKS and he smirks at her when he takes his pole.

Immediately, he cheats. You’re not supposed to hit people in the head or poke the baton in their faces, but he starts out by trying to do both. Grace steps back, frowning.

Then he spits in her face.

She can’t believe it. She’s so stunned that she stands there as he tags her a good one on her shoulder.

“Hey!” she shouts.

He grins like he’s proud of himself, and she figures it out. This is his idea of a brilliant strategy.

Grace is a thoughtful, patient kid. Everyone says so. Her teachers consistently call her the rule-follower in their classes, the one who sits quietly when the other students are running riot. Grace has always been the responsible one.

But there are moments when she feels something wild rise up in her. When she wants to let loose, to scream, to yell, and to unleash all her strength on a deserving target.

She is a good kid. She works hard at holding that feeling back.

But even good kids have their limits.

Moving faster than most of the people watching can see, she spins and strikes, and the boy is lifted off his feet as he goes sailing from the beam.

He lands hard, despite all the foam blocks, and it takes him a moment to get his breath. Then he starts wailing like a toddler who’s lost his ice cream cone.

Everyone looks at her.

She probably shouldn’t be grinning.

The attendant finally wakes up, of course, and he yells at Grace, and the boy’s mother appears and starts shouting at the attendant about a lawsuit.

Out of nowhere, a stern-looking man in a white button-down shirt and slacks approaches her and says, “Come with me.”

She assumes he’s one of the managers, and he takes her toward the back of the building.