Braced Read online

  When I get home from soccer, I’m bored. I already finished my homework, because I’ve been going to the library during every free period. For the record, I’d definitely rather have best friends and have to do my homework after school than get everything done early and be able to do whatever I want by myself. I’m playing around on my phone when I decide to search “scoliosis,” “back braces,” and “friends,” because I can’t stop thinking about any of those things.

  I don’t know what I’m looking for exactly, but one of the first things that comes up is a video called “Top 10 Reasons to Love Your Back Brace.” It was made by a girl named Mia, except, she says, that’s not her real name, because her mom didn’t want her to put her actual name online. She’s in seventh grade too and she’s really serious about basketball. I have this feeling we’d be friends if she lived outside Boston instead of Chicago. She says she’s had her brace since fifth grade! And it’s going to be at least two more years before she gets it off, because she only got her period a few months ago. I can’t believe she’s talking about her period online, but I think it’s cool that she’s so open about everything. I want to be more like that. She only has to wear her brace for twenty hours a day, which is better than twenty-three, but still, four years is a long time.

  Here are the “Top 10 Reasons to Love Your Back Brace” (by Mia):

  1. You can name it. I named mine Beatrice the Brace.

  2. You can use your brace to get out of things you don’t want to do. Examples to try: cleaning, carrying heavy boxes, carrying anything, and gym class.

  3. It helps with your posture.

  4. It keeps you warmer in the winter.

  5. No one can tickle you on your sides. And it’s kind of funny when people try, because when they hit something hard, they look confused and then you get to laugh at them!

  6. You have your own personal musical instrument wherever you go. So start drumming.

  7. You can stick pushpins in your brace and freak people out. It’s really funny!

  8. You can draw on your brace and have people sign it and make it look cool, because it’s all yours! (P.S. Use rubbing alcohol to clean off the designs if you mess up or want to start all over again.)

  9. You can join the Curvy Girls and make new friends who also have back braces and are going through a lot of the same things.

  10. Because dealing with it is hard, it makes you realize you can handle pretty much anything that comes your way.

  I love all of Mia’s ideas, especially the ones I never would have thought of in a million years. I search for “Curvy Girls scoliosis” online and find out it’s a network of these peer support groups for kids with scoliosis. I don’t think it makes sense to join now, since I probably have only two months left in my brace, but it’s nice to know it’s there, in case I change my mind. Also, I love that Mia mentions drumming on her brace, because it’s my favorite thing. Mostly it helps to hear someone else talk about the good parts of having a brace, like somehow all of those things, even the ones I’ve already thought of, feel more true and real when Mia says them.

  THE NEXT DAY in science, I’m standing at one end of the table setting up the lab, and Tate is at the other end, doing I don’t know what. I wish I didn’t care, or have to see him, or notice that he got a cute haircut. I want him to disappear, because that’s probably the only way I’ll ever be able to stop thinking about him.

  “Why didn’t you text me back?” he asks, like he’s annoyed at me.

  “When?” I ask, because I want to make sure I didn’t miss an apology text.

  “Um. Last week. I asked you about the periodic table and you never said anything.”

  I push the cloudy goggles out of my eyes and onto the top of my head. The sun is shining through the window, straight at me. “Oh, maybe you didn’t hear. Robo-Beasts don’t text.” I don’t look away. I can feel my heart beating all over my body.

  “Okaaay.” He drags the word out, stretching it in the air like a piece of bubblegum. Then he looks down and stares into his notebook. He doodles on the lined paper, drawing the same design, his initials, over and over. It makes me feel like I’ve done something wrong when I haven’t. “I don’t get why you’re being like that,” he says.

  “You hurt me.” I say it like it’s obvious, because it should be. “You didn’t stand up for me with Kyle. So I don’t want to act like everything is fine or talk to you unless I have to. Like right now. For example.” I’m looking at him and he’s staring at his notebook. He doesn’t say anything. I slide my goggles down, cover my eyes, and go back to working on the lab. And even though it’s really scary to stand up for myself and have all of my feelings floating around on the outside, it mostly feels good to say what I’ve been thinking out loud, because I don’t want to pretend everything is the same as it was before the dance, when it’s not.

  LATE SATURDAY MORNING, I’m sitting at the kitchen counter doing homework, waiting for Mom to wake up. She’s supposed to be in bed all the time now, because the baby keeps trying to come out early and he’s not done cooking, but she’s allowed to get up for food, so I know that eventually she’ll make an appearance in the kitchen. I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened at the hospital and how there was no way Mom would have known what I needed with Dr. Paul if I hadn’t told her how I was feeling. I’ve also been thinking about all the other things she probably doesn’t know that I want to tell her now. I think Frannie was right when she said not talking makes everything worse.

  It’s been pretty quiet around here. Dad has been working even more than usual. According to Mom, he’s planning to take a few days off after the baby is born. Normally Dad canceling work for someone else, even someone who’s in our family, would cause steam to shoot out of my ears, but I asked him if he did the same thing when I was born, and he did, so it’s only fair.

  Mom walks into the kitchen. Her blonde hair is sticking up in every direction, and there are deep pillow lines across her face. She takes a fork out of the drawer and opens the fridge, like if she doesn’t get something to eat right away, she’ll die.

  Before I have a chance to say good morning, she’s taking a big bite out of a cold meatball. It’s weird to see her let go. She’s usually so controlled about everything she does. “These are amazing,” she says, before she’s done chewing. “Have you tried them?”

  “I’ve had them before,” I say, trying not to laugh. The baby isn’t due for another month, but people have already started sending over food now that Mom is on bed rest: lasagnas, casseroles, and every kind of bread—banana chocolate chip, cranberry, lemon poppy, and long baguettes. Hazel’s mom sent her famous sweet cheese kugel topped with Frosted Flakes, and Frannie’s dad made the meatballs from scratch. I was surprised they sent anything, since we aren’t talking, but maybe their parents don’t know that. I wonder who told them about Mom. I wish I had.

  She takes the pot of meatballs out of the fridge and sits down on a stool next to me. “Can you help me with some of this food? And also carry all the dishes into my room?” She smiles at me. “I need to go lie down again, but I’m starving.”

  “Yes and yes.” I grin. “It’s official. We’re having a picnic!”

  I take containers out of the fridge, stack them up, and carry them into Mom’s room. She’s lying on the chair by the TV with her feet up.

  “Thank you so much, honey,” she says as I spread a blanket out on the floor and put down the food.

  “You’re welcome,” I say and sit down in front of the containers. “What would you like first?”

  “Kugel, please.”

  “You’re going to eat the rest of it, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe.” She looks up at the ceiling like she’s guilty. “But I promise to save you a corner piece.”

  “Deal.” I uncover the foil and hand her the tray and a clean fork. Then I dig into the lemon pound cake.

  “Hey, Mom, the other day at the hospital—thanks for kicking the doctors out and holding my gown a
nd telling Dr. Paul to talk to me. I’m really glad I told you everything. It helped a lot.”

  “That’s all I want to do. I’m sorry if I’ve made this harder on you.” She sighs. “It’s not easy for me to be there. That’s where I got my brace and had my surgeries. I felt so trapped as a patient, and helpless. It’s not any different as a parent. But I haven’t been there for you all the time, and that’s not fair. I want you to tell me what you need so I can do a better job supporting you from now on.”

  I nod. “I actually have something else to tell you.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t like it when you talk about how much harder everything was for you. I mean, I know my brace is nothing compared to surgery. And I’m used to having a brace now, but it’s still hard sometimes.”

  “I was trying to make you feel better.” Mom gives me a look like she’s waiting for me to figure out that she’s right.

  “How would knowing you had an even harder time ever make me feel better?”

  “I thought it would help if you knew it could be worse,” she says. “Don’t you think I know how hard this is for you? I wish this wasn’t happening. I wish there were something I could do to make your scoliosis go away,” she says, like she’s trying to push back tears. “I don’t blame you for hating me. It’s my fault the treatment is so strict and that they’re monitoring you so closely. It’s because of your family history—my history.”

  “I don’t hate you.” I shake my head. It surprises me how wrong Mom is about how I feel. She couldn’t be more off.

  “You don’t?” She sounds confused.

  “No. I don’t. It’s not like you wanted me to have scoliosis,” I say. “I just want you to understand that having a brace is hard for me, even if it’s not as hard as surgery.”

  She nods. “I do. I felt just like you. I wanted to be regular. Normal. Whatever that means.” She rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t. Ever. I felt like such a freak. My brace covered my breasts. It made me look like a cardboard box. And I felt like everyone knew there was something wrong with me. My God. It’s so hard to talk about it. To even think about it.” Mom is crying. She shakes her head. “Does that help? To know your mother was a total freak?”

  “It helps a lot,” I say.

  Mom is looking at me like I have three heads. “I never told you how I felt, because I didn’t want you to think those things about yourself.”

  “I like knowing I’m not the only one who’s ever felt this way,” I say. “Maybe it’s weird, but it makes me feel like less of a freak.”

  “It’s not weird.” She shakes her head. “It makes a lot of sense, actually. I had no idea I was upsetting you so much. I wasn’t doing it on purpose.”

  “I know,” I say, because I’m sure that’s true. I stand up and put my arms all the way around Mom, hugging her and the baby.

  “You’re so strong. Do you know that?” Mom takes my hands in hers and squeezes them tight. “You’ve had to be.”

  I nod at her and smile. I know it’s true. I can handle more now, because of everything I’ve been through with my brace.

  “I was thinking that if you want to have friends over tonight, you’re more than welcome to,” she says. “Really, Rachel. I know you’re trying to be considerate, and it’s very sweet, but I don’t want you to stop everything for me. We have a while longer before the baby comes.”

  “I don’t have anyone to invite over,” I say.

  “Oh, honey.” Mom covers her mouth. “You haven’t made up with the girls.” She looks at me like she knows how much it hurts.

  “I would have stood up for Hazel,” I say. Thinking about it makes tears stream down my cheeks. I don’t bother to wipe them away.

  “I know you would have.” Mom sighs. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” I shrug.

  “You know, what happened doesn’t make Hazel a bad friend. She still has things to learn. She probably hasn’t had an experience where someone treated her the way Kyle treated you, so she doesn’t really know what it feels like to be in your position. I think you should talk to her, give her a chance to understand where you’re coming from, like when you told me how you felt going to see Dr. Paul.”

  “I never thought about it like that.”

  She nods. “I know your brace doesn’t usually feel like a good thing, but wearing it has forced you to deal with being different, and that’s given you a new perspective. It’s actually a pretty big advantage.”

  I nod back. “I think you might be right.”

  “First time for everything.” Mom smiles, and then starts crying again. “Oh, these stupid hormones.” She wipes her face dry.

  We both laugh.

  “What’s going on in here?” Dad asks, walking into the bedroom in his suit. He just got home from making rounds at the hospital.

  “Picnic. Dig in,” I say and hand him a fork.

  He smiles. “Looks good.”

  “It is,” Mom says.

  “Dad, do you think you could come to my next appointment with Dr. Paul?” I ask. “It helped to have you there.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” Mom says. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Dad says. “Why don’t you let me answer the question?”

  “I’m sorry. I just—”

  “It’s okay,” Dad says to Mom. He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out his phone. “What day is it again?”

  “February tenth,” Mom and I say at the same time.

  “Tuesday,” he says to himself, scanning everything in front of him.

  I hold my breath.

  “I’ll make it work.” He looks at me and then at Mom. “I’ll be there. I promise.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “I’m glad you asked,” Dad says.

  “Me too,” I say.

  “Me three,” Mom says.

  We finish the meatballs, kugel, and half of the lemon pound cake before Mom goes back to bed and Dad starts his billing. I go upstairs to my room to call Frannie and Hazel. Neither of them pick up. I leave long, rambling, nonsense messages that basically say I’m ready to talk. And I’m sorry.

  Then I spread out my homework on the kitchen table and stare at my phone, willing it to ring. I put on a playlist and start jamming. I only have two more months left of my brace drum, so I have to make the most of it now while I still can. An hour, half a playlist, three word problems, and no phone calls later, the garage door opens and closes, which is weird because everyone who lives here is home.

  When I look up, Hazel and Frannie are standing in front of me. I push myself out of the chair so I’m standing up too.

  “I dumped Kyle,” Hazel blurts out.

  It’s the last thing I expect her to say. “Not because of me? You didn’t have to do that,” I say, and I actually mean it.

  She shakes her head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. He’s really mean,” she says. “He says stuff about everyone, even his best friend. Even his girlfriend.”

  “What did he say about you?” I ask.

  “He kept trying to go to second base.” Hazel looks around the room like she’s afraid her mom or my mom might be standing behind her. “I said no. Not because I’m, um, you know, small. I just didn’t want to. I wasn’t ready. He said if I didn’t do it, he’d break up with me.”

  “I hate him,” I say.

  “That’s not the worst part,” Frannie says. “Kyle told the whole boys’ soccer team that Hazel went to second base with him.”

  “WHAT?” I shout.

  “He’s such a liar,” Hazel says. “I mean, hello, there’s nothing to grab!”

  I’m not sure if I’m allowed to laugh, but I can’t help it. Frannie can’t either.

  “I’m sorry,” Hazel says. “I didn’t know what it felt like to have everyone talking about me. I didn’t get it at all.”

  “I’m sorry too. I didn’t tell you how I was feeling. I should have.”

  Hazel runs over and hugs me. I hold on tight and
look over at Frannie. “I’m so sorry for what I said to you. It was mean and not true and I know you were trying to help.”

  “Don’t do that again, okay?” she says.

  I nod. “I promise.”

  “Even if we don’t get what’s going on with you. Don’t freeze us out.”

  “I won’t. I swear,” I say.

  “Wait, one more thing,” Hazel says. “I already apologized to Frannie about this, but I’m sorry I told you that Frannie talked about your brace behind your back. She didn’t. It never happened. I made it up for dramatic effect.”

  “It was very effective,” I say. “Next time we fight—”

  “There won’t be a next time.” Hazel cuts me off.

  “There might be.” I shrug.

  “But it’ll be different,” Frannie says.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Really different.”

  Hazel and I run over to Frannie and we all hug.

  “Not to change the subject to me, but can we please talk about my birthday and what we’re doing for it, because it’s less than a month away,” Frannie says. “And it has to be really good.”

  “Yes!” Hazel and I both say at the same time.

  “Hi, girls.” Mom walks into the kitchen.

  “Your stomach is huge!” Hazel covers her mouth, like she’s trying to push the words back in. “I so did not mean to say that out loud.”

  “It’s true.” Mom smiles. “I hope you’re hungry. We have a lot of food to get through. I think you should call home. You might have to sleep over.”

  “Yes!” Hazel shrieks, rushing over to her backpack. Frannie is already calling her dad.

  I smile at Mom, and she smiles back.

  Frannie and Hazel both fall asleep in the middle of Girls Just Want to Have Fun. I can’t sleep. I’m hyped up and dizzy from too much sugar and making up with my best friends. I can’t stop myself from taking out my phone and texting Tate: I think you should apologize to me.

  He writes back almost immediately. I know. I’m really sorry, he says. I shouldn’t have gone along with Kyle like that. It wasn’t cool.