When Fall Breaks

by Julie Solano

  Leaning into me, but still looking toward the front of the room, Jenna whispers, “I’d be careful with that coffee if I was him. That little predator probably slipped him some Roofies.”

  We both giggle and grow silent as we watch Puss n Boots slink her way back toward her seat. Brody is sitting in front of me when she stops unexpectedly at his desk. It’s spirit week, and Chelsea has gone all out donning her home-crafted spirit attire. Her little gold t-shirt is cinched up the sides in red and black bows, and she’s had it autographed by most of the football team. When she bends over his desk she purrs, “Hey Brody, I saved you a special spot.”

  Drawn away from his conversation with Caden, he looks at Chelsea and replies, “Huh?”

  “I was trying to ask you to sign my shirt.” She bends down allowing the V of her neck to drop low enough to see the naughty little kitty designs covering her Victoria’s Secret push up bra.

  “ME-owwww,” I hear Jenna’s spunky little purr, fly through the room. I’m not sure, but I think I might even hear Mr. Pine laugh a little.

  I glance over to see Caden’s look of disbelief when Chelsea reaches into her bra and pulls out a hot pink Sharpie. “Right here, she points to the open space front and center over her heart. I saved you the best spot.”

  “I think I’m gonna be sick,” I whisper to Jenna as I watch Brody’s left hand wrap around her waist to secure the shirt in place. His right hand moves slowly across her chest leaving his famous signature and one smiling, little Cheshire Chelsea. I can feel the heat rising in my face. I don’t know why I’m getting so mad, but I’m incredibly agitated that Brody is petting her like a kitten. He has his hands all over her . . . And in chemistry of all places!

  My brother is gaping at the spectacle before him. “Holy Crap,” I hear Caden mumble slowly under his breath, right before he lifts his hands toward Chelsea and grunts, “I’m on the football team too! Where do I get to sign?”

  “Anywhere you want, Big Guy. You pick the spot,” she giggles back at Caden, pouncing over toward his desk and handing him the pen.

  “Wow, Cade, let me grab your jaw from the ground for you. You look like a salivating pound puppy, ready to pounce.” Chelsea Cat’s insidious pheromones have definitely overtaken the back corner of the room, and both of my guys are under her spell.

  As my brother works to slather an extra large signature just below Brody’s, she watches me with a smug look on her face. “I know it’s pretty bumpy,” she grins. “Though they are nice and firm, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem to sign them . . . I mean . . . it . . . my t-shirt . . .” Her face lights up and she cocks her head a bit. Giggling she adds, “You probably don’t have to deal with that, right Kaitlyn? Swimmer’s chest and all.”

  I try to bite my tongue, but she has my boys pawing all over her like nursing kittens, and I can’t help when I blurt, “Ya, ummm, it’s not an issue. There’s only one petting zoo in this school and it doesn’t belong to me. You know you should really start selling tickets. You could probably pay for college if you charged admission every time you let someone knead those things.”

  I don’t realize I’m talking loud enough for Mr. Pine to hear, but apparently he does, because coffee begins to spray from his nose and mouth. He pulls his fisted hand up to his face to stifle his uncontrollable choke-laugh until he has to take a brief exit from the room.

  Caden is gaping at me, slowly nodding his head up and down, “Wow, T . . . impressive. Feeling a little feisty today? Pretty sharp tongue you’ve got there.”

  I scrunch up my face, not saying a word.

  While Mr. Pine is out, Chelsea takes the opportunity to lure Brody in once again. “Hey Brody,” she singsongs sweetly. “Are you going to the Homecoming formal this Saturday?”

  On no, she is not going there.

  “Not sure yet Chels. The girl I was hoping to take is already going with a real ‘Piss’ Ass.” He emphasizes “piss” and whips his head over his right shoulder. Our eyes meet. “She hasn’t realized that the man of her dreams is sitting right in front of her.”

  Yep, that sudden, sharp pain would be spikes of adrenaline again. I try to ignore his, not so subtle, toying with my emotions. I know I overheard him talking to Caden about his attraction to me, but he said he was going to work on getting past this. I need to help that happen. It’s what’s best for both of us. I can’t give his remark any attention. I begin humming to myself to drown out the sound of the annoying conversation happening in front of me. As I hum Taylor Swift tunes in my head, I drop my eyes back to my desk and try to shake it off.

  The talk of the dance reminds me to check with Pistol to see if he still wants to go with me. I haven’t talked to him since last night, and seeing that the boys roughed him up a bit, I wonder if our Homecoming date is still on. I hide my phone beneath my desk and type out a quick text.

  Me:

  Sorry again about last night. The boys can be a little overprotective sometimes. Are we still on for the Homecoming dance? If so, I need to get a dress.

  I see little bubbles come across the bottom of my screen, so I know he’s read my text.

  Meanwhile, I catch Chelsea’s continued seduction of Brody, “So if you haven’t asked anyone . . . You should know I’ve been holding out for the perfect date. Would you want to go together?” She leans in closer. “It could be fun.” She bites her bottom lip and raises her eyebrows. “I’ll make sure it’s a night you’ll never forget.” She rubs her hand up and down his arm and gives him a wink. “If you’re lucky, I might even bring snacks.”

  “Oh great,” Jenna pipes in, “seduction and snacks. There’s no way a boy can refuse that.”

  “Ya, no need to shop for snacks. She should already have a stockpile of Fancy Feast.” I mumble under my breath.

  I see Brody sink down in his chair and hear a deep gulp when he swallows. He turns to me slowly and mouths, “Should I?”

  I can’t believe Brody’s asking me for advice about a date with Chelsea. He knows how much I despise her. I mean, didn’t he just hear me refer to her as a petting zoo? “Don’t ask me! You can handle this little kitty on your own Great Ringmaster,” I hiss with disgust.

  Jenna bursts out in laughter, “Don’t forget the whips buddy. You’re gonna need them to keep that mountain cat under control. And here’s a fair warning for you; it looks like she’s in heat, and I’m sure she’s got a whole bag of kitty ‘tricks’ just waiting to lure you in.”

  I can’t even describe the look on Brody’s face, listening to Jenna’s warning. He looks like a twelve year old boy sneaking a peek at his big brother’s Playboy magazine for the first time. “Oh and Bro,” she snaps her fingers at him to try to break his gaze at Chelsea’s chest. “Watch out . . . she’s been circling all day. When she backs up to you and raises her tail, you may want to run for the hills.”

  At the words “whips” and “tricks,” Caden peels his eyes from Chelsea’s chest and joins in the banter. “Whoa, where do I sign up for this circus? Do you have any hot feline friends who need taming?” he jokes.

  Through Jenna’s sarcastic remark, I can hear Brody talking to Chelsea, “Well, since Plan A isn’t panning out, I guess I can take you, Chels. Text me later so we can make plans on when and where to meet.”

  I cannot believe he just accepted her invitation to the Homecoming dance. I feel a surge of anger come over me. I stand up, stomp my foot, and shout, “Yay, let’s all CLAP for Brody.” I clap my hands together furiously over my head. “He just got himself the Purrrr-fect date to the Homecoming dance!”

  I don’t know what’s gotten into me today. I’m not usually bold enough to stand up to Chelsea, but right now, I feel like that little feline is pouncing on my territory. I pick up my binder, pat Brody on the shoulder, snark, “Good choice,” and walk out the door.

  Out in the hallway, Mr. Pine is wiping the coffee off his coaching shirt. I’m shocked to see him there, and jump when he questions? “Where are you going Ms. Woodley?”

  I
fumble for a believable excuse,“I’m headed out to the quad. I have to sell pretzels during the bazaar. Am I okay to go?”

  “Ya . . . uh, just remember the test on unstable compounds tomorrow.”

  “Ya, no problem, got that one covered.” I excuse myself and begin to walk over to the pool. All I have to do to pass that stupid test is think about how I’m feeling right now. As I saunter across the street, I review the test definition in my head. Unstable compound: highly reactive, can condense, decompose, or become self-reactive quite easily due to pressure or temperature. Yep . . . I’m an unstable compound, that’s what I am.

  When I get to the pool, I make my way to the dressing room and pull the curtain shut. I’m sulking, angry, and confused. I can’t believe Brody is going to Homecoming with the one girl that has bullied me mercilessly since fifth grade. Well, I guess being that he is an eighteen year old boy, he would rather have a “Post-date Guarantee,” than respect our lifelong friendship.

  I become increasingly upset as I think back on everything we’ve been through together. He knows how hard Chelsea is on me. My throat tightens, and tears sting at my eyes as I feel the stabbing pain of Brody’s betrayal jab at my heart. I’m taken back to the summer of seventh grade.

  “Someone’s here to see you,” my mom opened the door to my room. I lay crying on my bed, head buried under my pillows. It was the worst day I’d ever had. I was at the top of my game and set to compete at the North Valley Championship Swim Meet. During practice, Chelsea managed to get into my head and break me down. She was enraged that I’d beat her out, knocking her off the “A” Relay team that would compete at the Championship meet. She had somehow made it look like I was to blame, and gotten everyone in our lane to gang up on me. During warm-ups, they kept mowing me over with the kick boards. Throughout the main set, they would slow down upon my approach and kick furiously to drown me every chance they got. These girls were working double time to beat me down and make my practice miserable. After two hours of choking on water, being scratched by toe-nails, and kicked in the head, my spirits were low and I was feeling a bit defeated. By the end of practice, I shakily climbed out of the pool; tears filled my goggles. Chelsea, walked up next to me and said, “You think you’re so much better than everyone else, don’t you? Let today be a lesson to you. You’re only as good as I let you be. Nobody here likes you, Kaitlyn. I’m surprised you even want to go to Championships. It’s not going to be any fun for you anyway, Loner.”

  With no response, I solemnly hung my head and pulled the loose ends of my towel around my back and up into my face. I stood momentarily in silence, when I felt a hand come up to my back. “Are you okay, there?” I heard a sweet, soft voice come from behind. “You know those are all lies right? She’s just jealous.”

  I didn’t want to appear weak. I nodded my head a little, but a traitorous squeak escaped me as I struggled to hold back a cry. “I’m okay,” I whispered and lowered the towel to see who was talking to me. It was the new girl, Jenna, who swam in the lane right below me. It was her first year on the team, and she’d quickly made her way through the ranks, showing great potential in all of her strokes.

  “Thanks Jenna,” I quietly sobbed. “It’s good to know that there’s one person here who doesn’t hate me.”

  “Well, those catty girls make me sick. Who needs them, right? She stuck her pinky out to me. “Give me your pinky,” she said.

  I held out my pinky and she intertwined hers with mine.

  “As long as I’m here, you’ve got a friend. Got it?” She tugged down on my pinky and gave me a wink.

  A small smile spread across my face. “Thanks . . . friend.”

  I remember her putting her arm around me and walking me to the car, where I began to melt at the sight of my mom.

  A couple hours had passed and I wouldn’t look up when my visitor entered the room. I didn’t feel like seeing anyone, and my eyes were heavy and tired from crying. That’s when I heard Brody’s comforting voice.

  “Hey there Pip Squeak,” he said softly.

  I raised my hand to say hello, leaving my face buried.

  “I just wanted to come and wish you luck before your meet tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Bro . . .” my muffled voice tried to claw it’s way through the obstacle course of bedding surrounding my head.

  “I can’t hear you buddy. Please look at me.”

  I shook my head back and forth, and felt the bed sink as he sat down beside me. His hand came to rest gently on my back.

  “I brought you something,” he jostled me, trying to get me to turn over. “But you have to look at me before I’ll give it to you.”

  My curiosity got the best of me. I guessed I could quit being stubborn long enough to see what he brought. “Okay,” I slowly rose from the bed and sat up facing him.

  Brody gave a little chuckle and peeled the tear-plastered hair from the sides of my face, finger-combing the loose, wet strands behind my ears. Holding both of my cheeks in his hands he said, “Pip, you and I are best friends. It kills me to see you so sad. Your brother told me about your practice with Chelsea, and I want you to go down there and beat her ass for the way she treated you. I wish, so much I could go and watch you swim in that meet. I was saving this for your birthday, but I decided I wanted to give it to you today.

  “Awww, you don’t have to give me anything Bro.”

  “I want to. It’s for luck.” He pulled a small silver box out of his pocket. He held it up to me and opened it, revealing a sterling silver horseshoe necklace with two small, pink birthstones embedded at the curve.

  “Oh Brody, a lucky horseshoe; that’s adorable, thank you,” I reached in and gave him a huge hug.

  “Well, I saw it right after you clobbered me at horseshoes during the Fourth of July picnic. Horseshoes are supposed to bring you luck, you know. I couldn’t help but get it when I saw I could personalize it with your birthstones . . . and you’re welcome. Here, let me put it on you.” He brushed my hair away from my shoulders and strung the dainty necklace around my neck, securing the clasp. He smiled, dropped his hands to my shoulders, and whispered, “I’ll always have your back, Pip. Good luck this weekend.”

  That was the first real gift a boy ever gave me. I still wear that lucky necklace every time I compete.

  The chime of my phone shatters my bitter-sweet memory. I’ve begun to calm down, but the thought of Brody and Chelsea together stings more than I care to admit. I thought he was always going to have my back. I guess that was before he started liking cats.

  Jenna:

  Hey, where are you? You never came back.

  Me:

  I couldn’t stomach any more. That girl made me so mad, I wanted to make her choke up a hairball.

  Jenna:

  Ya, she’s gross. Just so you know, Brody hasn’t said a word since you left the room. I think he knows he messed that one up.

  P.S. That was quite a scene friend, I’m proud of you for turning the tables on her for once. She was working her tail off to get to you. It was funny when you left her speechless with your petting zoo metaphor.

  P.P.S. We’re still dress shopping after school, right?

  Me:

  Not sure . . . haven’t heard back from Pistol. Kinda worried cuz I know he read it. I saw the bubbles pop up :(

  Jenna:

  Ass Munch . . . Let me know when you hear. If he doesn’t follow through, you can join our girls’ group.

  Me:

  Thanks Pal. We’ll shop no matter what.

  WE’VE GONE TO SEVERAL DEPARTMENT stores and tried on dozens of dresses, when we finally stop at a fun boutique that has some good prospects. “This one is decent,” Jenna holds up a short, black, one-shoulder glitter dress, pinning it against her body as she spins around.”

  “Ya, it’s cute. You should go try it on,” I encourage. “We’ve been looking everywhere, and that’s the best one I’ve seen for your body type. You’re so petite. It won’t drown you like some of those long gowns
you’ve been looking at.”

  I rifle through the dresses until a cute sequined gown, with a heart-shaped bodice catches my eye. “I like this coral one.” I pull it off the rack. “I think I’ll go to the dressing room with you.”

  After a few minutes in the dressing room, I hear Jenna giggling.

  “What’s going on in there?” I laugh.

  “I look like a cupcake in this dress.”

  “Hang on a second. Don’t change yet. I’m zipping up and then I want to see.” I finish zipping my dress and look in the mirror. I love it so much. It fits perfectly and the color brings out my summer tan. I feel like a princess. “K, done . . . Be right there.”

  We open our doors at the same time looking each other up and down, “Oh, Kaitlyn . . . You have to get that dress! It’s perfect!” Jenna jumps up and down in excitement. The ruffles of her cupcake dress bounce wildly up and down.

  “Ummm . . . thank you . . . ummm. .your dress is cu. . .”

  “I know, I know,” Jenna interrupts. “I look like a cake topper. This is definitely not going to work.”

  Now that she’s said it herself, I feel like it’s an appropriate time to laugh, and of course take a picture to post on Instagram so that everyone else can get a good laugh too.

  I’m playing around with hashtags for the hilarious picture when my long awaited text from Pistol comes across my phone.

  Pistol:

  I’ve been thinking about it, and I guess we can still go.

  Wow, he still wants to go? Yes! He doesn’t hate me! I’m so happy that he’s coming that I quit working on my “#bestie#homecoming#cupcakedress” post and respond enthusiastically.

  Me:

  Yay, I’m so glad you could forgive me for everything that happened. Are you doing okay?

  Pistol:

  I’ve looked better, but at least now our messed up faces will match for the pictures. How’s the poison oak, btw?

  Me:

  Still there, but starting to fade a little. I’ll try to cover it with make-up if it’s still there for the dance. I want to look good for you.