Braced Read online

  “Can we go outside?” Frannie sounds like she’s gasping for air.

  “Let me get my coat.” I run into the kitchen. “We’re going outside to talk for a few minutes, okay?” I whisper to Mom.

  “It’s cold,” she says. “Make sure you bundle up.” I nod.

  Frannie is leaning against the washing machine when I get back. She looks so small and brittle, about to crumble like a cracker. She’s always so sure of herself, like she’s coated in this hard, shiny shell, that it feels wrong seeing her broken down.

  “Is your mom going to call my dad?” Frannie asks me on our way outside.

  “No way.” I have no idea what Mom is going to do, but it doesn’t sound like Frannie will stay if she thinks her dad is coming over. It surprises me. They don’t usually fight.

  “Good. I’m not dealing with him right now.”

  I lead Frannie to my secret place under the deck. I’ve never taken anyone here before, but this is the kind of special occasion my hideout was built for. The lights from the kitchen and living room are on. Mom is about to serve tea and pie. The thought of hot chamomile with a drop of honey sends a chill down my legs, reminding me how cold it is out here.

  Once we’re under the deck, I turn on my mega flashlight so we can see each other. Frannie fades into the pink beanbag chair. I sit down on a pile of frozen mulch. I don’t know if I’m supposed to ask what’s going on. I look at my hands and wait for her to say something, but she doesn’t start talking or crying. She’s so quiet I’m afraid she might disappear.

  “You know how you fight with your mom?” she says. “But it’s because you’re close, or because you’re the same in all of these weird ways?”

  I nod, even though I’m not sure if that’s why I fight with my mom. Maybe it is. I don’t know.

  “My mom and I used to do that,” she says. “But my dad doesn’t fight. He’s too sad. Or maybe he never liked to. I can’t remember. Lucy is like him. I’m like my mom. I was. Now I’m like no one. I hate her for being dead. It’s not fair.”

  I’m so sad for Frannie. I don’t know what to say. I try to think about what I want or need when I’m sad, and then I do the only thing I can think of: I reach out and hold her hand. She lets me.

  And I am thankful.

  THE WEEK OF formal feels like it goes on forever. The only good part about not being a shoo-in for the A Team is that I’m so focused on prepping for tryouts and working out my right leg that I don’t have as much time to obsess about the dance. Okay, I do have some time for that, but I have less time than I would if I wasn’t practicing for soccer.

  On Friday, my stomach is fluttering in anxious circles. I don’t understand how teachers can expect us to sit through school today. I can’t think about anything except for what it will be like if Tate asks me to dance or asks me out. It feels like everyone in the seventh grade is holding their breath all day, and when the last bell rings, it sounds longer and louder than usual.

  Frannie stays at school to help finish decorating the winter wonderland. Hazel and I get ready at my house. I can tell Mom wants tonight to be special for me, because she orders the saucy, cheesy, delicious pizza from Sal’s that I love. We eat and then curl our hair and paint our nails and toes to match our dresses. Hazel picks aquamarine, and I go with gold shimmer. Mom even lets us use her makeup, which is normally locked up and off-limits. Too bad she hardly has any good eye shadows. It’s all boring browns and beiges. Hazel finds one that’s sort of like eggplant, which is almost purple, and it looks good on both of us, especially with a lot of mascara.

  After we’re done with hair, nails, and makeup, I get to take off my brace. I don’t have to put it back on until I get home from the formal! When Hazel goes into the bathroom to change into her outfit, I take the dress Mom and I bought out of the garment bag and step into it. The deep-gold fabric doesn’t have sequins or glitter or anything like that, but it glistens when the light hits it the right way, and I feel like I’m sparkling. It has a sweetheart neckline, like the purple one Hazel and I both loved, and hugs my waist, then flares out into a small teacup shape. It’s everything I imagined.

  When Mom drops us off at school, she whispers, “Enjoy every minute. You look beautiful.” It feels good to have her on my side tonight.

  The gym has been transformed. There are swirls of cotton and white fabric with lace and crystal details everywhere I turn. The ceiling is covered with snowflakes, and tiny white lights are sprinkled around the room. Everything is shimmering, glittering, glistening. It’s glowing with magic and hope. I love the way the light shines off my dress.

  Hazel and I meet Frannie by the door like we planned. Her dress is winter white with a silver belt, and there are tiny crystals pinned into her waves. She matches the room.

  Hazel squeals when she spots Kyle in his tie, which is color coordinated with her dress. Tate walks in next to him. I catch my breath. He looks that cute. He’s wearing a blue blazer and a hunter green tie. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him all dressed up before. Not like this. He smiles when he sees me, flashing a dimple, and his eyebrows go straight up, like something about me surprises him.

  “Take a picture of us girls.” Hazel points to the three of us and then hands Kyle her phone.

  We all smile for the camera. I squeeze between Hazel and Frannie.

  “Now you two get together.” Hazel points at Tate and then me.

  “Good luck with that, dude,” Kyle says.

  “Shut it. You know you’re next,” Hazel says back to him. We all laugh.

  Tate walks over and puts his arm around me, resting his hand on my shoulder. “One, two, three, look happy,” Hazel says. I don’t even have to try.

  Once Hazel and Kyle are finished with their photo shoot, we ditch the boys for the dance floor. The music is blasting. I can feel the beat pumping through me. Without thinking, I start to tap along on my stomach, forgetting my brace drum isn’t there. It’s a weird feeling to miss something about the brace. I guess I thought that once it came off, I’d go right back to normal, but it doesn’t seem like that exists anymore.

  I keep looking over at the boys huddled on the other side of the room. I don’t mean to stare at Tate, but it’s hard not to look at him. He towers over everyone. Every time our eyes lock together, I’m afraid he’s about to look away from me, so I force myself to break eye contact before he can.

  After we’ve been dancing for a while, the boys move a few inches closer to the girls. Kyle comes over and starts dancing with Hazel. Ladan and the forwards pull Frannie away. I don’t see Tate anywhere, and I don’t feel like dancing alone or being Hazel and Kyle’s third wheel, so I head toward the bathroom.

  When I slip through the white curtain in the back of the gym, the hallway is empty except for Tate. “Hey,” he says, taking a few steps closer.

  “Hey.” I sound out of breath. The tips of my fingers are tingling. The music inside the dance slows down to a soft, steady beat, and the DJ says something about finding a partner. I wonder if Tate notices.

  “I need a break from being in there,” he says. “Want to go outside?”

  I nod and try not to look disappointed that he didn’t ask me to dance. He turns around and opens the door that leads outside, holding it like he’s waiting for me to go first.

  His shoes drag against the cement as he follows me along the path. There are tiny spotlights in the grass shining up at us. I don’t stop walking until we’re in the dark, looking at the soccer field. He’s so close I can feel his shoulder radiating against my bare arm. He smells like he always does. I close my eyes and try to inhale everything about this moment. “I bet you’re cold,” he says.

  I am, but I don’t want to say anything that might make this end. “It feels good out here,” I say, but the wind picks up and my teeth start chattering.

  Tate puts his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in. It’s warm, and I fit perfectly. He’s shaking a little too, and I wonder if he’s nervous or cold or both. “You look pretty
,” he says. “I like your dress.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  Out of nowhere, he leans into me and I feel his lips against mine. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m kissing Tate. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s happy and warm and sweet. My stomach is fluttering so fast and my heart feels like it’s trying to keep up. I hope he can’t tell it’s my first kiss. I keep waiting for him to stop and tell me I’m doing it wrong, but he doesn’t. I try to follow his lips. Soft. Slow. Minty. Natural-ish.

  I feel a clink, my front teeth knocking into his. Err. Awkward. I’m pretty sure this is cold, hard proof that I’m the world’s worst kisser. I shouldn’t be allowed to make out with someone ever again. But Tate doesn’t pull away from me. He keeps kissing me. Faster. Closer. Like he doesn’t want it to end. I don’t either. It’s the best thing I’ve ever experienced. I want to stand here and keep kissing forever.

  “Tate-O,” Kyle calls from inside the gym. “Whatcha doing out here?”

  “Sorry,” Tate whispers softly in my ear. His nose is cold against my cheek. “Do you want to go back in?” He rubs my shoulders.

  “Not really,” I say. “It’s cold, but I’d rather stay here. I like being with you.”

  “Me too,” he says. “I mean, I like being with you too.”

  This time, I lean in and kiss him.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Kyle says.

  We stop kissing. “We should probably go in,” Tate says, but he doesn’t move, and I can tell he doesn’t want to go anywhere. He takes a long, deep breath. Then he turns around. I follow him back inside. My body is tingling. I can still feel his lips on mine.

  Kyle is waiting for us. “Oh … Hi, Rachel.” He draws my name out, dragging it through the air. I smile at him by accident. Tate kissed me. He likes me. The words sound weird even in my head, like they can’t possibly be real. But they are. They really are.

  “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Kyle says in a way that makes it clear he means exactly the opposite of what he’s saying. “What were you two doing out there?”

  He’s looking right at me like I’m the one who’s supposed to answer, so I do. “It’s none of your business,” I say.

  “Tate’s my best friend, so actually it is my business,” Kyle says. “Tell me. What were you doing?”

  “Let it go,” Tate says quickly.

  “No can do,” Kyle says.

  “We like each other. Get over it.” I look right at Kyle when I say it, because I know it’s true. I mean, Tate kissed me. We just kissed. That means everything.

  “Her?” Kyle points at me, but he’s looking at Tate. “Seriously? You like her?”

  I hold my breath and wait for Tate to say something. Say yes. Say you like me.

  “I mean, dude, she’s the Robo-Beast.” I feel my heart beat faster and harder inside my chest. “But hey, if that’s your thing, that’s cool. I didn’t realize you were into freaks.”

  “Stop,” Tate says. “It’s not like that.” He’s looking at the ground. “Nothing even happened.”

  I feel my heart collapse in my chest. That’s not true. How could he say that? Walk away, Rachel. Go. Only I can’t move. I’m frozen solid.

  “Rachel, I love your dress.” I look up as soon as I hear Ladan’s voice. She must have just walked over. I really hope she didn’t hear what happened, but by the way she’s looking at me right now with sad sympathy eyes, I’m sure she did. “It’s so pretty.”

  “Thanks.” My words barely make it out, and before she can say anything else, I walk through the white curtain and back into the dance. I run over to Hazel, where it’s safe.

  “Where have you been?” She smiles at me. “Come dance.”

  I can’t stop the tears from pouring out.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but cry. She grabs my hand and pulls me out of the gym and into the main lobby. The lights are bright and blinding. I close my eyes and let her lead the way.

  “Is everything okay, girls?” I hear one of the chaperones call after us.

  “Everything’s great,” Hazel shouts back and grabs my wrist even tighter than before. When I hear the door shut behind us and the lock snap, I open my eyes. We’re in the single stall bathroom by the cafeteria. My body looks limp and deflated in the mirror, like there’s nothing left on the inside. Lines of black mascara streak across my face.

  Hazel grabs a stack of paper towels and runs water over them for a few seconds. She places the warm towels on my cheeks and rubs away the makeup and tears.

  I take a deep breath, but I can’t stop crying.

  “What’s going on?” Hazel asks. “What happened?”

  I don’t even know where to start. “Tate kissed me,” I say.

  “Shut up! Kyle kissed me!” Hazel squeals. “Can you believe it? We had our first kiss on the same night. Wait, why are you crying? Did he not ask you out?”

  “He’s not going to,” I say.

  “He is. He likes you.”

  I shake my head.

  “I know that for a fact,” Hazel says. “Kyle told me.”

  “Did Kyle tell you he calls me the Robo-Beast?”

  “No,” she says. “No way. He would never say that.”

  “He just did.”

  “You probably heard him wrong,” she says.

  “I didn’t.” My voice comes out louder than I expect.

  “You’re pretty upset,” she says.

  “I wasn’t upset then,” I say.

  “I really feel like you didn’t hear him right. He knows you’re my best friend. And he likes you. I swear. Let’s go ask him.”

  “No,” I shout, because that’s the worst, most embarrassing idea ever.

  “Come on,” Hazel says. “Let’s clear it up so we can have fun for the rest of the night. This bathroom is hot, and we’re missing the best part of the dance.”

  “Go ahead,” I say. “I don’t want to do that. It’ll make it worse.”

  “What do you want me to do?” she asks. “Should I break up with him because he called you Robo-whatever?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  “Not that,” I say.

  “I’m sorry, but I really want to have fun tonight,” Hazel says.

  “So go. I’m not trying to stop you,” I say.

  “I defend you a lot.” Hazel raises her voice. “Like all the time in practice, and other times too.”

  “What are you talking about? The soccer girls like me.”

  “Not all the time. I mean, everyone makes fun of you. Even Frannie. You don’t know the half of it. It’s not just Kyle. I mean, he’s the only one who’d say it to your face. And I’m sick of it. Every time something good happens to me, I have to worry about you and your brace and how it will make you feel. I’m sorry, but I don’t feel like it tonight. I feel like having fun, because it’s my seventh grade formal too. I want to dance with my boyfriend and be excited that I just had my first kiss ever. And for once I’m not going to let you ruin it.”

  Before I can say anything else, Hazel walks out and slams the door behind her.

  I’m alone. I’m a puddle on the floor of the bathroom. I take my phone out of my bag and call home.

  “Hello?” Mom answers.

  I start crying as soon as I hear her voice.

  “I’m coming,” she says. “I’m coming right now.”

  MOM DOESN’T ASK questions on the ride home, and I don’t turn on my music, so it’s quiet in the car. After she pulls into the garage, she takes my hand in hers and says, “If you want to talk about anything, I’m here to listen, and I am sorry about whatever happened tonight that made you so upset.”

  I want to tell her, but I can’t. Not now.

  I put my brace back on and get into bed. I’m ready for this night to be over. I wish I had a playlist about heartbreak and hurt feelings ready right now to match m
y mood, but I don’t. I always use music to pick myself up. I’ve never wanted to wade around in my own sadness until now.

  My phone buzzes. It’s Frannie: You okay? Hazel told me what happened. Seriously, don’t sweat it. You guys will make up. And no one is even talking about the Robo-Beast thing anymore. None of it is a big deal. I swear.

  It’s a big deal to me, I write back.

  It shouldn’t be, she says. Really.

  I don’t want to talk about it. I’m shutting my phone off. I don’t want to hear all the reasons why I shouldn’t let it bother me. I can’t help how much it hurts that everyone makes fun of my brace behind my back, even Frannie.

  I don’t turn my phone back on for the rest of the weekend. I don’t take any time out of the brace either, except to shower, making up the hours I missed so I could go to the stupid, stupid dance. I spend most of my time listening to sad music with a beat, so I can still drum along, and practicing for tryouts. I stay focused on developing my right leg. I know that if I can get to the point where kicking and passing on that side feels natural, I’ll make the A Team. And I still want to, more than anything.

  On Sunday night, Mom and I watch an Agatha Christie series on PBS and dip homemade chocolate brownies with mint chips into hot chocolate. I try not to think about what Hazel and Tate and Kyle said and didn’t say, because when I do, I can’t breathe. I thought that by the time the end of the weekend finally rolled around I’d feel better and be ready to face my real life. I was wrong.

  “Can I stay home tomorrow?” I ask Mom. “Please?”

  “Are you sick?” She rests her hand on my forehead.

  I shake my head. “But I don’t feel well,” I say softly. “Can that count?”

  “You can take the day off if you want, but if you don’t go to school, you won’t be able to try out for soccer.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that rule,” I say. “Never mind.”

  “You might feel better if you talk about what happened.”

  I shrug. “Tate and I kissed,” I say before I can think about it for too long and stop the words from coming out of my mouth.