When Fall Breaks

by Julie Solano

  AS I STAND IN THE corner of the stall sobbing, I hear a soft, gentle voice make its way from around the corner, into the bathroom. “Pip? Are you in there buddy?”

  It’s Brody. I can’t let him see me looking like this. I work to wipe the tears from my face, trying not to smudge my makeup. I tiptoe out to the mirror to check my face . . . not too bad . . . The waterproof mascara actually works.

  “Pip, I know you’re in there.” I hear his tender voice coming from the edge of the doorway. “I can hear your squeaky little mouse steps scampering across the floor. Please come out and talk to me. The girls out here are kinda waiting for me to let them in . . . no pressure or anything.”

  It’s no use putting him off. Brody can be awfully stubborn and I don’t want to be responsible for bursting any bladders at the Homecoming dance. As it stands, I’ve already done enough damage to their dresses. I slowly tiptoe around the wall toward the doorway. When Brody sees my glossy eyes, he opens his arms wide and pulls me into him. With his comforting embrace, control slips away, and a soft whimper escapes me. “Come here buddy, let’s move away from the bathroom.” Brody drops one arm, keeping the other tightly secured around my shoulder as he walks me into the foyer. The lights are dim in the corner of the room, where we go to talk. I can hear My Eyes, by Blake Shelton softly playing in the background. “Good song,” he smirks with a little twinkle in his eyes. He sways with me to the music while I try to calm down.

  We stop swaying, but Brody leaves one arm on my shoulder, continuing to cradle me against him. He slips his hand under my chin and gently raises my face. He wipes the tears from my eyes and I continue to look down at his hand. I can’t face him right now. “Look at me, Pip,” he whispers. I pull in a tiny sniffle and raise my eyes to meet his compassionate stare. “I saw your little performance, and I can’t deny that it made me a bit uneasy.” He pinches his face and shakes his head, “Who was that out there, Pip? Cuz it sure wasn’t my best friend.”

  I shake my head, look down, and begin to cry as shame blankets me once again.

  “Aw Pip, listen . . . you don’t have to dance like that for him, or for anyone. You’re the most beautiful girl in that gym for God’s sake. There’s not a guy standing behind those doors worthy of your mesmerizing bull-riding moves; especially not a donkey like Pistol Black,” he giggles, and squeezes my shoulder trying to lighten my mood.

  I give a little chuckle as I visualize the stellar saddle bronc performance I just gave on a jackass. I begin to feel ridiculous, but try to rationalize my behavior. “Brody, it’s just that, I feel like I’m not enough for him. I’m not gorgeous and popular with the guys like Chelsea, and I’m not a rodeo princess like CJ. I’m just the little swimmer girl next door, who everyone thinks of as Mother Theresa. Meanwhile, somehow, I’ve managed to rope this incredibly, gorgeous cowboy, who can have any girl he wants. I try so hard to keep him happy. I don’t question rumors or where he goes on weekends. I never put him on guilt trips . . . but I feel like he needs more from me. All I’m doing right now is holding him back from having fun. Brody, if I don’t step up my game, he’s going to dump me for a truly, beautiful girl who will give him everything he wants.”

  Brody takes a deep breath and lets it out. He releases my shoulder and gently turns me into him. He softly places his forehead on mine and interlocks our fingers; our arms dangle in between us. He gives my hands a gentle squeeze and his penetrating stare pierces me. His eyes have taken me captive. My heart skips, my breathing shallows, and the air escapes my lungs, soon to be replaced by a rush of fluttering butterflies.

  “I want you to listen to me . . . No, don’t just listen; hear what I am saying. Kaitlyn Woodley, you are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on. You shine from the inside out. You are smart, witty, athletic, musical, and downright irresistible. If fate had allowed us to be more than best friends, I would wrap you up in my arms right this second and carry you out of this gym to the magical ballroom you deserve. I wouldn’t let anyone remember my beautiful princess riding an ugly ole, undeserving Ass.

  I start to giggle, at the image of grinding on an ugly donkey. “Thank you Brody,” I sniffle, and reach up to wipe away the last of my tears.

  I wrap my arms around his heavily muscled neck and give him a heartfelt hug, burying my face in his chest. As I breathe in my favorite scent, calm overcomes me. It’s soothing to feel Brody’s warm breath slowly spreading through my hair. It carries his whisper down to my ears, “Pip, you’re the most beautiful, best friend a guy could ever have. I’m always here for you.” He presses a gentle kiss to my forehead and releases his tight hold on me, taking me by my left hand. He swings it back and forth as though he’s not sure if he should let go of me yet. “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” he says excitedly.

  “What’s that?” I ask curiously.

  “We’re gonna erase the memory of that last dance performance with a little country swingin,’” he winks at me and smiles. “I can’t let you leave here with that silly donkey grinding scene burned into everyone’s minds.”

  “Brody, what about Chelsea? She’s your date, remember?”

  “Chelsea can wait. She’s used to being in line behind you anyway.”

  Whoa, my eyebrows lift and I take in a quick, sharp breath as my mind tries to grasp what he just said. I’m not exactly sure what Brody meant by it, but the thought of Chelsea waiting in the wings while I swing with Brody makes me light up inside. A rush of excitement strikes me.

  The image of watching Chelsea’s face during our upcoming performance quickly shatters when I hear Caden’s voice behind me. “Hey guys . . . is everything okay?” he asks, with a look of confusion. I’m sure he’s wondering where our dates are and why we are together in a dark corner.

  “We’re all good Dude. Where have you been?” Brody distracts my brother, who is staring at our adjoined hands. “Peyton’s been looking for you, I think she’s got it pretty bad for you, Dude,” he chuckles.

  “Well, it was a last minute decision to come.” Again, he looks at our hands, shaking his head a little. “If everything’s good out here, I guess I’ll go find Peyton. She’s been texting me since the ball game last night, trying to get me to the dance. Catch you two later.”

  Caden heads into the gym, leaving us alone once again. “So, you still want to dance?” Brody grabs my hand and twirls me around his finger.

  “Sure . . . Let’s find Jenna,” I whoop. “DJ’s love that girl. He’ll be sure to play a good swingin’ song if she requests it.”

  I’m feeling a lot better after Brody’s pep talk. I’m not sure how he does it, but he’s always had a gift for building me back up when I’m feeling small. He takes me by the hand and pulls me back into the gym to search for Jenna. We make our way through the crowds of grinding couples, back toward the food table where the Cha Cha girls are standing. Caden and Peyton are close, sharing a plate of food, as they carry on an apparently, very funny conversation. Just feet from them, I see Pistol in the center of Chelsea and CJ’s circle. Chelsea and Pistol are grimacing as they stare down at her glowing phone. Of course he’s made his way back to CJ. I should’ve expected that. I’m so upset with him right now that I couldn’t care less if he looks pissed . . . If CJ’s the kind of girl he wants, he can have her.

  I peel my eyes from Pistol and spot Jenna over by the speakers dancing with Ty. “There she is Brody,” I point enthusiastically through the thick crowd. A mischievous look spreads across Brody’s face when he bends down and scoops me off my feet. He throws me over his shoulder. Running toward Jenna, he uses me to knock everyone out of the way, like he’s going in for a touchdown. I giggle hysterically as people fly to the left and right, trying to dodge his rushing game.

  When they see us, Jenna and Ty stop dancing, and shake their heads in disbelief at the play Brody just made. We are laughing as he spikes me down to the ground and performs his famous touchdown victory dance.

  Jenna is grinning from ear to ear when Brody finally stops dancing. �
�Hmmm . . . was that punch spiked after all? I thought you were going for the goal post for a second there Big Guy. When did your fairy Godmother turn Kaitlyn into a football? And where are your dates?” she asks surprised.

  “Ummm . . . where are our dates? We’re wondering the same thing.” I turn toward Ty, “I’m guessing my date kinda got ahold of yours, huh Buddy?”

  “We have ours on a time out. They’re all over there by the bench trying to figure out how to get back in the game.” Brody answers, pointing toward their huddle. “Let’s just say Pistol’s had enough personal fouls tonight, and if I have anything to say about it, he’s been ejected from this game.” He claps his hands together, “Okay, so we need a little favor.”

  “I’m your girl,” Jenna throws her hands in the air.

  “Since D.J. Ry Dog seems to love you, we need you to request a song for us. We’re done with this grinding stuff; I’m ready to have my childhood dance partner back. More than anything, I want to show that jackass over there that this girl knows how to dance.”

  Jenna laughs, then pauses in contemplation, “I’ve got the perfect song for you two.” She forms finger guns with both hands and draws them from her hips, double clicking her tongue, as she shoots them toward us. “Get ready friends, I’ll be right back.”

  Brody and I prepare, for whatever song Jenna has in store for us. I’m ecstatic at the opportunity to erase my earlier performance, and to get some dance time with my favorite guy. The thought of our dates briefly crosses my mind, but I dismiss it almost instantly. If Pistol can grind with CJ, then this certainly shouldn’t be a problem. As for Chelsea, I’m sure she’ll find another dance partner to tangle her crutches around. There never seems to be a shortage of guys where she’s concerned.

  When the new song starts, the grinding comes to a halt and the dancer’s begin to melt away from each other. “What is this crap?” I hear Schuler’s voice permeate the country twang. Everyone stands frozen on the gym floor like they’ve landed on another planet. They’re looking around at each other, shaking their heads with confusion. Upturned eyebrows and scrunched up faces glow under the twisting lights.

  Brody and I look at each other and laugh, when we recognize the tune Jenna has chosen. As Country Girl Shake it For Me, by Luke Bryan blasts through the gym, Jenna jumps up on the speaker at the left of the D.J.’s stage, while Ty jumps up on the right. They start clapping their hands, stomping their feet, and shaking their booties, drawing attention to Brody and me, standing front and center.

  Brody sends me a little nod, and grabs my hands. I give my heels a quick kick and accidentally, on purpose, flip them right into the middle of the Cha Cha girls. I think I’ve got their attention now. Brody pulls me in, pushes me away, and pulls me in again, in two quick movements to begin the country swing. We swiftly glide away from the stage to give us some room, when Brody spins me out and spins me back into a dip. The crowd begins to spread away from us giving us space. I can hear Jenna and Ty clapping to the rhythm, and working to get the crowd to join them.

  We begin swinging faster and faster as the beat picks up. Brody puts his hand behind his back, letting me know that he’s ready for the Pretzel. In a fluid, rapid movement we twist and turn in a circle, spinning in and out, back and forth, arms remaining connected over our heads, around our backs, and back to the front again, throughout the entire dance maneuver. We end the stunt as Brody holds me behind his back, his strong arms extended, bending me into a back dip. He draws me back to the front of him, swinging me a couple more times, releasing one hand and holding his arm out to spot me on a back flip.

  I can feel all eyes on us now. The crowd is clapping along and hooting at us, which injects me with a boost of energy. I fly into an exceptionally high back flip over his arm. The crowd goes wild, and I can see an even brighter spark in Brody’s eyes. He is enjoying the heck out of this show. We perform one more captivating pretzel, and a couple more animated swings, when he lifts his eyebrows and mouths, “Death drop.”

  “Not sure I remember that, but I can try.” I grimace.

  “Don’t worry Pip, I’ve got you. Just hang on. You’ll definitely feel the drop, but I promise, I won’t let you fall. Let’s leave this crowd with something to remember,” he smiles as he pulls me in for one last swing.

  As he releases me, he swings me behind him so we’re standing back to back. He gives a quick bend forward, shooting me straight over the top. I roll quickly over his back, landing on my feet so we are facing once again. Again, he releases one hand and holds me out forming a stiff “T” with my body. I plant both feet together, and drop forward to the ground like a crashing airplane. His strong arm keeps me from colliding into the floor, as he steps over the top of me and flips me back into his arms. He throws me up over his head, catches me like he’s cradling a baby, and carries me off the dance floor.

  Everyone erupts in cheers. I catch a glimpse of Pistol and CJ standing together as Brody carries me past them, never stopping once. I peek over Brody’s shoulder and glance back at Pistol as we walk by. With a little smirk, I send him a “Stick that in your Pipe and Smoke it” wave. I mouth, “Bye Bye,” and squeeze Brody’s handsome neck.

  “Where are we going without our dates, Brody? I ask with a giggle.

  “To the photo booth, Pip. I never want to forget the look on your face after that little victory dance.”

  When we get into the booth, Brody sets me on his lap and says, “Let’s have some fun with this.” He presses the button to begin the sequence of shots. At the first flash, I’m completely shocked when he licks my neck like it’s an ice cream cone. I throw my head back in hysterics. I turn around and grab his face, squishing his cheeks into Mr. Chubby, and turn it toward the camera for the next frame. Meanwhile, I turn myself into a blowfish and tilt my head into him. In the third picture, we both stick our tongues out and make rockstar fingers. For the finale, Brody grunts, “Quick . . . twisting-swing position!,” just as the flash goes off I spin around on his lap and face him chest to chest, wrapping around him like we used to when we rode doubles on the schoolyard swing. He plants a kiss on my forehead. “Perfect profile pic, Pip,” he whispers.

  I start cracking up . . .”What’s that?” I laugh. “Try saying that ten times fast.”

  “Okay,” he works to restate his perfect alliteration, “Perfect Profect Pip Pip. . Perfect, Pic Pic . . . Perfect frofile fic pic.”

  I can’t help it when I darned near blow snot out my nose laughing. He starts cracking up right alongside me. In the midst of our laughter, the pictures begin to flow through the slot. I reach out to grab the strip of photos, just as I hear the screeching of metal across metal. Light drowns the booth. Chest to chest, and locked onto Brody, I turn my head over my shoulder to see what’s going on. Chelsea is standing there, white-knuckled, gripping the curtain.

  “What the hell are you two doing? Did you forget you came here with me you jerk? First your hillbilly stomping all over the gym floor with Woodleg Woodley, and now you’re molesting her in the photo booth?” she screams. “And if that’s not enough, you made this a two-day event by carrying HER across the football field last night and letting HER plant your axe! Well, at least I got to show Pistol your little stunt.” She pulls out her phone and holds up a video of last night at the football game. “Ya, he knows all about you two. If you think I’m pissed, take a look around. He already left without you Kaitlyn; you two-timing Floozie!”

  Before we can defend ourselves, Chelsea smacks Brody’s face with such intensity that I can see the red finger marks outlined on his cheek. She stomps off leaving us both stunned. We look into each other’s eyes, straight faced, and then we lose it. We are laughing so hard we begin snorting. The line waiting for the booth joins in the laughter. Brody leans into me and whispers, “Do you think they’re waiting to take pics, or watching our show?”

  No sooner does he ask, then we hear Schuler bellow, “Holy Hell Dude,” we turn to see him slam both hands against the wall of the booth. He leans
in, shaking his head. “If this is how shit’s shakin’ in the booth tonight, sign me up.”

  AS WE PULL UP TO my house, I see my bedroom light turn off. “Are your parents still up, Pip?” Brody must’ve seen my room go dark too. “That’s funny,” he jokes, “I thought they went to bed at like 9:00 these days. I’ll walk you in and let them know you’re here safe.”

  My mind runs through possible scenarios of why my parents may still be awake. “Ya, they’re not usually up so late, but they might’ve waited up to see how the dance went. Or maybe it’s because Dad set a midnight curfew, and I’m about a half hour late.” Shoot. I hope I’m not in too much trouble.

  “He gave that jackass a curfew?” Brody laughs . . .”I always knew that man was a good judge of character.” He pauses for a moment, clearly getting a kick out of the fact that my dad slapped a curfew on my time with Pistol. “Hey Pip . . .”

  “Ya?”

  “Wanna know something funny?”

  “What Brody?”

  “He’s never given the two of us a curfew before.” He gives me a little wink and nudges my arm. The smile on his face is glowing as he jokes, “Guess we know who he does and doesn’t trust with his baby girl.”