Braced Page 8

  I jump back before he can touch me.

  “What was that?” he asks.

  “Nothing,” I say, because even though it makes me seem really weird, I’m pretty sure it’s better than saying, “I don’t want you to touch my back brace.”

  He fills up a new eyedropper with the next liquid antacid. I want to say something to cover the awkwardness, but I can’t think of anything, so it stays there, floating between us like a fart, smelling up the whole room, until science is over.

  I’m planning on wearing my brace during gym, but when Mrs. Demetrius announces that we’re starting the year with a yoga unit, I realize there’s no way. Luckily Hazel is in my class. I don’t have to say anything to her. She looks at me and knows. I ask to go to the bathroom, and even though I don’t need Hazel’s help getting out of the brace anymore, she meets me there. It’s nice not to be alone.

  It turns out that I really like yoga and it doesn’t matter that I’m not flexible. I can still do all the poses. I like Reverse Warrior the best, because when I lunge forward and reach up to the ceiling, all the muscles in my back and sides open up. It’s like a big yawn for my torso. But the problem with being out of my brace for the forty-five minutes of gym is that I’ve already used up all of my free hour for the day, since I took off the brace this morning to shower and stretch. And now I’m worried, because I need to shower after practice too.

  I spend the rest of the morning waiting for lunch. The whole time I’m in class, I keep thinking about how much I want to tell Coach Howard about my brace and get it over with already, but when the bell rings, I’m scared.

  I meet Frannie by Coach’s office like we planned.

  “This is a fun surprise,” Coach says, waving us in. Her office walls are covered with pictures and framed newspaper articles with action shots of her playing soccer.

  I smile and take a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say softly.

  She looks at me and nods. Then she looks at Frannie.

  “I’m here for … I’m the friend,” Frannie says.

  Coach Howard smiles.

  “I want to play soccer so badly,” I say. “The thing is, I got a back brace for scoliosis, and I have to wear it all the time, even during soccer. But I’m still good. I swear. I’ve been practicing with Frannie.”

  “She really is,” Frannie says, backing me up.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I should have,” I continue. “I mean, the person who made the brace said playing soccer would be fine, but I wasn’t sure it was actually going to be. I needed to see for myself. Also, I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t want to lose my spot on the team. I love playing forward.”

  “Rachel—” Coach Howard says. Please. Please. Please. I cross my fingers. My heart is beating so fast it hurts. “You will always be welcome on this team.”

  “I knew it!” Frannie blurts.

  “Thank you!” I say. “And I can still play forward?”

  “Let’s have you try it out at practice today. And we can see how it goes.”

  “Okay, that sounds good,” I say, because even though I wanted her to say yes, she didn’t say no. And if I play well at practice, I can stay a forward.

  “I’m glad,” she says. “Is running in the brace an issue at all?”

  “No way. I’ve been running a lot. It’s totally fine.”

  “Good. That’s great.” She sounds surprised. “Rachel, it’s going to be your responsibility to tell me if that changes at any point. I need you to let me if you’re in pain, or if I ask you to do anything on the field that’s too much for you.”

  “I promise I’ll tell you,” I say. “I actually need to tell you one more thing right now.… I have to miss practice tomorrow. I need to get x-rays in my brace. And I know the rule: You don’t practice, you don’t play. But maybe you could make an exception, just this once, because I didn’t find out about the appointment until last night and I tried to get my mom to switch it, but she said no.”

  Coach Howard nods. “You’ll play on Friday. But from now on, I need you to let me know about your appointments in advance.”

  “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I take a deep breath and let out all the air and the worry I’ve been holding inside. At least until practice.

  After the bell rings, I head straight to the locker room. It smells like sneakers and fruity body sprays, and it’s crowded with everyone getting ready for practice. I sneak to the back by the bathrooms and knock on the handicapped stall. Hazel unlocks it and opens the door for me, like we planned. Frannie is by the lockers in case anyone gets suspicious and starts asking questions. We all agreed that even though Frannie is better at helping me put on the brace, she’s also better at thinking on her feet.

  I need to take the brace off for a few minutes to stretch out between school and soccer. I pull open the Velcro straps one at a time. They sound like tires screeching across wet pavement. I put it on the ledge behind the toilet and start to stretch my back. It feels so good to be free even for a few minutes. I lift my undershirt, which has been riding up and making creases in my skin all day.

  “Rachel!” Hazel covers her mouth. “Is it supposed to do that?”

  I look down at the raw, blistered skin around my hips. “Pretty much.”

  “Did you tell your mom?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “She knows.”

  “Okay, good.” Hazel takes a deep breath, as if the fact that my mom knows makes everything better. “This doesn’t look safe,” she says, picking the brace up from behind the toilet. “Wow. This thing stinks.” She holds it away from her and coughs. “I can smell it from here.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I say. “I can’t clean it until I get home.”

  She takes a mini bottle of body splash out of her bag and sprays it on my brace. All I smell now is vanilla. “Better,” I say.

  “Definitely.” She nods.

  Once Hazel buckles me back into the brace, we change into our practice gear. She’s done in a few seconds. It takes me longer, because the brace feels tight against my skin, like I’m being squeezed for juice. It’s like that first time in the hospital every time. My muscles are in shock. Only now I know the pain will be gone soon, and in a few minutes, I’ll start to forget the brace is there.

  “Come on,” Hazel whispers. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I’m almost done.”

  “I don’t want to miss everything. And I’m getting claustrophobic back here.”

  I’m not sure Hazel means it the way it sounds, like I’m holding her back. I hope that part is only in my head.

  Finally I’m dressed, and we walk over to the lockers. Hazel sits down on the bench, and I stand next to her. I’d rather not sit unless I have to. Frannie smiles at both of us, and then Hazel smiles at me. We’re in on something together, and even though it’s my problem, it’s not just mine.

  “Anyone hanging out downtown on Friday after the game?” Ladan asks. She wraps her thick hair into a big bun on the top of her head, like a crown.

  “Frannie, Rachel, and I are,” Hazel says quickly.

  “We are?” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but the words slip.

  “Um, yeah,” she says. “Don’t be stupid. We talked about it last night.”

  We definitely didn’t, because I would have remembered that conversation, but I say, “Duh, of course. Brain fart.” I look over at Frannie, but she must have gone to the bathroom, because she’s not there anymore.

  Ladan is talking about how we’ll meet at Biscotti’s. I try to listen, but I’m too busy thinking about how I have gym first period on Friday, which means I have to wear the brace downtown, because I’ll have already used up my one free hour for the day.

  On the way out of the locker room, I whisper to Hazel, “What was that all about?”

  “Sorry,” she says. “Kyle invited me last night. I meant to tell you this morning, but I forgot. There’s been a lot going on
today. But you’ll come, right? I mean, you have to come!”

  “Yeah, of course.” I can’t say no. Not when Hazel’s been helping me so much. I know what she means by “a lot going on today”—we’ve both been too busy with the brace to talk about her boy situation.

  “I was afraid we wouldn’t be included if I didn’t say yes right away.”

  I nod. “Can we please talk about Kyle?” I whisper. “This is really, really big news. It’s practically a billboard.”

  “You think?” She’s trying not to smile, but she can’t help it. “I hope you’re right.”

  “Promise you’ll tell me if anything else happens?” I ask.

  “I didn’t think you’d want to hear about it today.” She looks down at my brace.

  “I want to,” I say. “Really.” I don’t want the brace to get in the way of the things that truly matter to me.

  She smiles.

  I walk onto the field with Hazel and Frannie. I’m wearing a shirt that’s a little loose at the bottom so the edges of the brace don’t stick out.

  “Rachel.” Coach Howard waves me over as soon as she sees me.

  A few of the girls whisper to each other, and I’m pretty sure I hear one of them say my name. I wish I knew which one of my teammates told Tate I was quitting. I try to block that out. Nothing on the field has changed. I still have a chance to play forward. I can still be good. Even Frannie thinks so, and she wouldn’t lie about soccer. I walk straight over to Coach.

  “I spoke to your mom this afternoon,” Coach Howard says.

  “She called you?” I ask.

  “Yes. She wanted me to know that you’re still adjusting to your brace.”

  “That’s not true.” I know it doesn’t matter what I say right now because Mom is my mom and an adult, and Coach Howard is obviously going to believe her over me, but I can’t stop myself. I can’t believe she did this to me. “I’ve been practicing every day.”

  “Your mom told me that too,” she says. “I still want you to take it easy, okay?”

  “I don’t need to. And I’m done adjusting.”

  “You’re such a strong player, Rachel. I see how dedicated you are. I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

  “I am. I swear. I’m stretching a lot. And I’m still really good. My footwork is even better than before.”

  “I bet,” she says. “We’re doing the long loop today. I wanted to give you the option to sit it out. And then after, I’m going to have you practice with the defense.”

  NO! That’s not fair. She isn’t even giving me a chance to prove I can do it. “I thought I was going to at least get to try. You saw how well I played on offense the last few practices.” I keep my voice soft and steady, even though it’s the opposite of how I feel.

  “I did. I was impressed,” she says. “But I’ve given this a lot of thought since my chat with your mom, and I’d like you to go back to playing defense for right now. We can reconsider having you play offense after our game on Friday.”

  I bite down on my lip and swallow hard. “I don’t need to sit out of the run. I’m good to go.” I’m afraid if I say anything else right now, I’ll cry, and I can’t, so I walk away.

  We’re about halfway through the long run and pretty far into the woods when I start to fall behind the rest of the team. The brace isn’t even rubbing against me. It’s fine, and I can keep up with everyone else. It’s just that I don’t really want to. I did everything Mom asked. I took responsibility for the brace and talked to Coach Howard. I don’t understand why she had to call anyway.

  Frannie runs backward, retracing her steps, to find me. “You okay?” she asks, trying to catch her breath.

  “No,” I say, and as soon as I do, I’m crying.

  “Does the brace hurt?” she asks. “Do you need me to take it off?”

  I shake my head. “I’m playing defense. I got demoted.”

  “What? Why?” Frannie sounds mad.

  “Because my mom called Coach, even though I said I’d talk to her.”

  “Not okay. No. Just no!” she shouts. “That’s not fair.” It feels good to hear her say that it’s not what I deserve. I take a deep breath and wipe away my tears. “I can’t believe Coach is not even giving you a chance,” she says.

  “You haven’t heard my mom talk about the brace,” I say. “She acts like it’s the only thing that matters. I mean, I know how important it is. I’m wearing it and I’m being careful. I just don’t want it to get in the way of everything.”

  “Then don’t let it,” she says.

  “Do you think we can still catch up with everyone else?”

  “If you want to.”

  “I do,” I say.

  “Then let’s go!” Frannie sets a fast pace, and it doesn’t take us very long to rejoin the rest of the team. By the time Coach Howard can see us again, we’re running with the pack, and it’s like nothing even happened.

  The good part about the long loop is that more than half of practice is over by the time we’re done running and stretching. We only have time for a few rounds of two-on-one drills. I’m glad about that, because I feel like every person on the team is whispering about me while they’re waiting for their turn.

  Not that I blame them. Here’s the story of my life at soccer today: I’ve been dropped from the offense, and I can’t really kick the ball. I keep trying, but my left hip hardly moves, and my right leg is tired and mushy from the run.

  Hazel and I go up against Josie in the two-on-one drill. I steal the ball from her pretty easily, dribble away, and pass to Hazel. Only it looks like I’ve never kicked a ball before, because it goes way up high and not in her direction.

  After the play is over and Hazel and I walk to the back of the line, she stands next to me and doesn’t say anything. Not even normal things about homework or dinner or Kyle. I have this feeling the whole time I’m on the field that everyone else is on the team and I’m not. I’m the thing they’re all laughing at.

  When Frannie’s dad drops me off at home, Mom is in the kitchen packing up her knitting supplies. “How was your first day?” she asks, inspecting a ball of blue yarn.

  “Fine.” I open the fridge and take out a bowl of fruit.

  “I want to hear about it when I get back. I’m running to knitting group. Dad will be home early—on the early side,” she corrects herself. “There’s dinner in the oven. You should eat together.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Thanks.” I wish Mom would look at me and see that today wasn’t fine. I want to tell her that practice was horrible partly because of her, and everyone is going downtown on Friday and I want to go too, but not in my brace. But by the time I find the words, the garage door is opening and Mom is gone.

  I put on my new homework playlist. I let the music sink in and pick me up.

  When Dad gets home a few hours later, it all spills out. He listens to me talk and nods between bites of salmon and broccoli. When I finish, he wipes his hands and reaches into the secret inside pocket of his suit jacket, where he used to keep butterscotch candies for me when I was little. He takes out a prescription pad, writes something down, and hands it to me.

  Rachel Brooks should be excused from gym on Friday. She cannot participate.

  “Now you can at least go downtown without the brace,” he says. “Does that help?”

  “So much,” I say.

  “Good.” He takes another bite of his dinner.

  “Dad,” I say.

  “Yeah?” he asks.

  “Thanks.”

  “Nothing to it.”

  I wish it were true. I wish all of my problems were the kind that Dad could fix.

  ON WEDNESDAY, MOM picks me up from school twenty minutes early so we can get to the hospital on time. When we get there, Mom takes out her knitting and I put in my headphones and listen to a soccer playlist from last year while we wait for someone to call my name. After an hour, I’m summoned to pose for the same two x-rays they always take—one from the back
and one from the side. Only this time I’m wearing my brace when the x-rays are taken. I like the hospital a lot more now that I have a brace. I get to keep my bra, underwear, and tank top on underneath it, and I wear two gowns while we go through the halls and take the elevator downstairs to see Jules.

  We don’t have to wait that long before she walks into the room. “How’s everything going?” she asks, looking right at me.

  I shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

  “How’s your skin? Any redness or blistering?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Kind of a lot.”

  “Would you mind showing me?”

  I take off my robes and unbuckle my straps. I pull the brace off and lift up my shirt so Jules can see the raw patches of skin on my hips.

  “Hmm.” She adjusts her glasses and leans forward, taking a closer look. “I suspect this is your skin adjusting, and that after these blisters heal, you shouldn’t have a problem, but I want you to let me know if that’s not the case, so we can make some changes if we need to. I want to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.”

  “That’s great,” Mom says.

  “Are you in any other pain?” Jules looks right at me when she asks.

  “It still hurts right after I put it on.”

  “That’s okay. But if the pain persists for more than a few minutes, you should let me know.” She looks at me and then at Mom. We both nod.

  “How does the brace feel during soccer?”

  I shrug. “The same as the rest of the time.”

  She nods and her eyebrows go up, like she actually gets how hard it is. “Is there anything else?”

  “Um, yeah,” I say. “It kind of smells.”

  Jules smiles and opens the big cabinet by the door. She grabs a handful of small packets. They’re pads of rubbing alcohol. “Stick these in your backpack so you don’t have to wait until you get home to wipe down your brace. That should solve the problem.”