He looked down at me over the rim of his glasses. “Like with Brynn. If you expect that she’s going to embrace Sophie, you’ll be disappointed if that’s not what happens.”
“I get what you’re talking about,” I said. “But isn’t it kind of unrealistic not to have expectations?”
“I’m not saying it’s not hard. But what’s the point? If you don’t have expectations, you avoid disappointment.” I was quiet as I thought about what he’d said. Leo continued. “And with Matt. If you don’t expect him to be a nice guy, you won’t be disappointed when he’s a jerk.”
I made a face.
“Sorry if that was hard for you to hear,” said Leo. “You can’t control what other people do.”
That made sense. “But what do I do? Just let Matt go on being a jerk?”
Leo shook his head. “Absolutely not. You tell him how you feel.”
I looked down. “He doesn’t care how I feel.”
Leo shrugged. “It’s not about him. It’s about you.” His eyes met mine. “I know more about chemistry in a lab than chemistry between people, but I think you need closure with Matt.”
“If I have something to say, just say it.”
Leo did a fist pump. “Tell him how you feel, and be done.”
Leo was right, and I knew it. Matt didn’t turn out to be the person I thought he was, and it’s time for me to move on. Once and for all. As we walked, a comfortable silence settled between Leo and me. “You’re so good at so many things,” I said. “Chemistry. Yoga. Knowing what to say to make people feel better. Is there anything you don’t know how to do?”
Leo laughed. “No one knows how to do everything.”
I knew that was the case, but I wanted to know where Leo was deficient. “Name one thing you don’t know how to do,” I said.
“Are you serious?”
I stopped walking and leaned against a tree. I looked at Leo like I was waiting for him to give me an answer.
“OK,” said Leo. He stopped walking too and turned to face me. “One thing I don’t know how to do is kiss a girl.”
I hadn’t expected him to say that. “You’ve never kissed a girl?” I asked softly.
Leo shook his head. Even though it was dark outside, I could see that his face was turning red. I took Leo’s hands in mine and put them around my waist. He looked at me and silently moved closer. I reached up and circled my arms around his neck. Leo is taller than I am, so I stood on my tiptoes. Our mouths were almost aligned.
I tilted my chin toward his, our lips met, and we kissed. It wasn’t a long kiss, just a few seconds, but it felt instinctive and comfortable, like … like we’d kissed each other before. When we were done, I pulled back, and Leo looked at me. “What did you think of kissing?” I asked.
“I think you’re amazing at it.”
I smiled at Leo. “It just takes practice. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”
“I’d like that,” said Leo. Then he ruffled the top of my hair with his hand. “You’re cute, April.”
I reached up and did the same thing to his hair. “So are you, Leo.” We both laughed and as he walked me home, and I felt my lungs fill up with air.
Happy air.
Sunday, November 23, 4:15 p.m.
I talked to Matt. I did it, and it was simple. I went to his house after lunch, rang the bell, and when he opened the door, I told him what I’d come to say. No hesitation.
“When we started going out, you were sweet. I really liked you, and I thought you liked me too. But you hurt me this summer when you kissed Sophie while I was at camp. You didn’t even seem like you were sorry you did it. You said we’d see what things were like when school started. Then you kissed a girl at a party I happened to be at, and when I saw you do it, you told me I’m creepy.”
Matt opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but I didn’t give him an opportunity. “It doesn’t matter what happened,” I said. “You didn’t turn out to be the person I thought you were.”
“April,” said Matt, and he paused. Then he did his head bob thing. I don’t know if he was stalling while he was thinking of what he wanted to say or if that was all he had to say. Either way, it didn’t matter. I was done. I turned and walked back to my house, and as I did, I felt good. Actually, better than good, like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. No more wait-and-see for me. Finally, I can say I’m done with Matt Parker.
And mean it.
Dancers are made, not born.
—Mikhail Baryshnikov
Monday, November 24, 7:07 a.m.
In bed
Mom left this morning to go to Atlanta, Georgia. “I’ll be back Wednesday in time for the dance show,” she said when she came into my room to tell me good-bye. The she bent down and kissed me. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone.”
“No problem,” I said. What could possibly happen in Faraway, Alabama, in two days?
8:32 p.m.
In the bathtub
OMG!
I can’t believe what happened in dress rehearsal today. Emily, who was supposed to do the freshman solo in the dance show Wednesday night, was going through her routine, did a leap, landed wrong on her ankle, and couldn’t stand up. Ms. Baumann called the school nurse, who came to take a look. She poked, prodded, determined it was sprained and wrapped an ice pack around it until Emily’s mom came to get her.
“Poor Emily,” said Kate.
“Yeah, it’s horrible.” I said. All I could think about was how excited Emily had been to perform her jazz solo. I never thought about what the fact that she couldn’t dance meant for the show.
“April, you’ll be filling in for Emily,” said Ms. Baumann after Emily’s mom left with her. “You have two days to learn the dance, and I have no doubt you can do it.” Then she pointed to Mady and Bree who are co-captains of the team. “Girls, you’re in charge of helping April with the dance. Emily can help out from the sidelines tomorrow.”
Then she motioned toward a corner of the auditorium. “Get busy,” she said to the three of us. She obviously wanted us to get on it pronto.
But I was too stunned to move. Emily knew her solo perfectly. Even though she’s only a freshman, she’s one of the best dancers on the team. Everyone was counting on her dance to be one of the best in the show. I don’t want to mess this up and let everyone on the team down.
The other freshman girls on the team crowded around me. I think they knew I needed moral support. “Oh my God, April! You’re doing a solo!” said Vanessa, like the excitement of performing by myself on stage should trump the fear of doing it or the amount of work ahead of me.
“You can do it,” said Kate.
I looked at Brynn. She nodded like she agreed with Kate. “You’re going to be great,” she said. “You’re a really good dancer, April.”
I know she was putting aside our differences of late to be encouraging, and it meant a lot. It was almost like getting one of the notes she used to write to me in elementary school that she used to always sign LYLAS (Luv ya like a sister). She was being the best friend I needed, loved, and missed.
I took a deep breath as I joined Mady and Bree, who were already waiting for me to get started. We worked on the dance for the rest of dress rehearsal, and then Ms. Baumann stayed and worked with me for a long time after everyone else left. “You’re getting there,” she said.
On the way home from the auditorium, the beats from the piece I’m dancing to played like a loop in my head. Interspersed with the notes were Natasha’s wise words from the end of yoga class. Each day is a new opportunity. The unexpected can happen. Embrace it.
Today was Exhibit A, and I’m trying. Really trying.
9:17 p.m.
Talked to Mom
As soon as I got out of the bathtub, I called Mom. She was so excited when I told her about the solo. “I’m very proud of you!” she said.
“You better wait until Wednesday to say that.” Then I told Mom that I was pretty nervous about filling in
for Emily.
“I know you’ll do a great job,” said Mom. “April, I’m sorry I’m in Atlanta and not at home.” Her voice sounded sad. “I feel bad I can’t be there when you have so much going on.”
“It’s OK.” I didn’t want it to weigh her down. She has just as much going on as I do.
“Love you, honey. More than you know.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
9:49 p.m.
Talked to Sophie and Leo
When I hung up with Mom, I called Sophie. She made a long squeeee sound into the phone when I told her about the solo.
“What was that?” I asked, laughing.
“I’m so happy for you!” she said. “I can’t wait to see you dance.”
One of the things I like best about Sophie is her enthusiasm. Knowing she’ll be there the night of the show made me feel really good, but there was someone else I wanted to be sure would be there too. I hung up with Sophie and called Leo.
When he picked up, I told him about my solo. “It’s a little scary,” I admitted. “I can’t imagine what it will be like to dance by myself in front of so many people.”
“If this is an invitation, you might want to reconsider,” said Leo. “I’m not the best dancer.”
“Huh?” I was confused.
“You’re inviting me to dance with you, right?” said Leo. “Like a duet.”
“I want you to come to the show, not dance with me!”
Leo laughed. “Of course I’ll be there. I was just teasing you.”
“Oh,” I said. Sometimes Leo’s humor goes right by me. He can be so weird and goofy. “Are you sure you want to come?” I asked.
Leo stopped laughing. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
Tuesday, November 25, 10:02 p.m.
Longest. Day. Ever.
All I did today, besides go to class and eat, was dance. Ms. Baumann met me in the gym before school and during my free period to work on my solo. Emily came to practice to help coach me through it. “You got it,” she said after I’d done it for what felt like the hundredth time.
I sure hope so. The dance show is tomorrow.
Wednesday, November 26, 5:05 p.m.
Good news!
“I sold my line!” Mom said as soon as she walked into the house. She just got home from Atlanta (which is a good thing because I have to be at the auditorium at 6:00 p.m.). It was obvious Dad had already heard because he and Mom exchanged happy looks, but it was news to May and June and me. We all hugged her. “Mom, that’s so great!” I said.
She smiled at me. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it later,” she said. “But right now you have a show to get to.” Then Mom led me back to my bathroom and brushed my hair into a high ponytail and coiled it around into a bun. “Ready?” she asked.
I nodded.
Off I go.
10:32 p.m.
Post-show
Tonight was unforgettable in so many ways.
When I got to the auditorium, I was so nervous. I tried to calm myself down by thinking about Leo and Sophie and all the people who would be there silently cheering me on. I thought about some of the things Natasha had said at yoga, and I even tried her deep-breathing technique. I knew I was prepared, but as the sounds of the packed auditorium drifted backstage, my stomach was in free-fall mode. I thought it might drop out of my body.
Walking out on stage when the show started and doing the opening dance with the rest of the team was a blur. My jazz solo was the sixth dance in the lineup, and as each of the dances before it finished, I felt myself getting more and more nervous. When it was my turn, Ms. Baumann mouthed for to me to go. Emily was watching the show from the wings, and she squeezed my hand. As I walked onstage, I looked out into the audience, and I remember thinking that the lights were blindingly bright and I was glad I couldn’t make out individual faces. I silently went over the advice Emily had given me earlier today. Smile. Focus on each step. Dance like no one is watching.
Then the music started, and I focused on the dance. Jump. Hitch kick. Chassé. Split leap. Double pirouette. Step after step until I’d finished.
When I was done, I heard applause. I couldn’t believe I’d done it. I saw Ms. Baumann signaling for me to curtsy. “Good job,” she mouthed as I walked off stage. I think she was actually smiling. Emily hugged me. So did Brynn. I was relaxed and happy as I danced the freshman group dance and then the finale with the rest of the team.
After the show, we had a party. There were flowers for Ms. Baumann and the team captains and a big cake for everyone. Parents, teachers, and friends all gathered in the lobby outside the auditorium to congratulate us. Mom, Dad, May, and June were there. And of course Gaga and Willy. Sophie stayed and so did Harry. They all told me I did a great job. Even Harry said I was “surprisingly decent.”
All their compliments made me feel fantastic, but the best one was from Leo. “You looked hot on stage,” he said quietly. It sounded odd coming out of his mouth, and I told him so.
Leo laughed. “Actually, I’ve only ever used the word hot in connection to a Bunsen burner or soup, but you’ve redefined the meaning of it for me.”
I’m so not hot. But I loved hearing it.
I loved the whole night.
11:12 p.m.
When we got home from the auditorium, my family had a victory party in the kitchen. “We have a lot to celebrate,” said Dad as he whipped up a delicious pot of homemade hot chocolate with marshmallows.
“April, you were a star,” he said.
“Yeah,” said May. “I wish I could dance like that.”
“You’re good at so many sports,” I said.
“I’m not good at sports or dancing,” said June.
“But you’re so smart and doing so well in school.” I knew this was sounding more like a pep talk than a victory party, but I wanted my sisters to feel as good as I did. I was so relieved knowing I’d done a good job at the dance show, and it was nice sitting at the kitchen table drinking hot chocolate with my family.
It was especially nice when Dad raised his mug. “I’d like to propose a toast,” he said.
“Can you do that with hot chocolate?” I asked.
“Why not?” Dad winked at me. Then he cleared his throat. “April, we’re all so proud of you. You were a star tonight. All your hard work showed. Excellent job.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Even though he sounded like he’d taken the script straight out of a parenting handbook, it was nice to hear.
Then he looked at Mom. “Flora, congratulations on selling your line. You know I was skeptical when you first told me you wanted to open the store.” He paused. “I apologize for not supporting you 100 percent. I should have known what a success you would be.”
Mom smiled at Dad. “I never expected this,” she said. I knew she was talking about selling her line to the store in Atlanta, but I could totally relate to what she was saying.
When I started high school, I wasn’t sure what to expect. So many things, both good and bad, happened. I guess what I’ve learned is that it’s kind of a waste of time to have expectations of what things will be like. It’s more important to just be.
Dad reached across the table and took Mom’s hand in his. Then his eyes filled with tears. “You’ve accomplished so very much, and I’m so proud of you.”
Mom was teary-eyed too as she squeezed Dad’s hand.
“Why are you both crying?” asked June.
“Happy times call for happy tears,” said Mom.
Mom sounded so corny, like she was in a commercial for Kleenex. But as she wiped her eyes, the truth is, I knew exactly what she meant.
The greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.
—Roald Dahl
Thanksgiving, 8:02 p.m.
Home from the diner
Today my family congregated at the diner to celebrate Thanksgiving. Gaga asked Dad if she and Willy could do the cooking. Dad agreed, but only because Gaga made a huge deal about how
Dad could use a break and that she and Willy had a big surprise in store for us all.
It turned out what they had in mind was more shock than surprise. Gaga and Willy cooked a vegan Thanksgiving feast. When everyone got to the diner, Gaga announced that in honor of their first anniversary (which doesn’t even happen for another five weeks), she and Willy are going vegan. “That means no meat, poultry, dairy, eggs, and a few other things I can’t remember at the moment,” said Gaga.
What I can remember is what we had for Thanksgiving lunch: sliced tofu loaf instead of turkey, quinoa and sprouted onion stuffing, sweet potatoes topped with chopped pecans (no minimarshmallows in sight), an array of unrecognizable side dishes, gluten-free dinner rolls, and raw pumpkin pie.
When Willy brought out the pie, everyone got excited. It looked delicious, especially after what we’d had for lunch. But looks can be deceiving. When Uncle Dusty took a bite, he spit it into his napkin and downed a full glass of water. “What the heck is this?” he asked, like what he’d tasted in no way resembled any kind of pie he’d ever eaten.
“It’s pumpkin pie with pumpkin, tofu, agave nectar, coconut oil, and a raw walnut crust,” said Willy. Then he told us he made it from a YouTube video. He smiled like he was proud of his high-tech accomplishment. I could tell Gaga was too. She put her arm around Willy and kissed him on the lips, right in front of everybody.
I thought the kiss would be quick—after all they’re both in their eighties. But octogenarians can be surprising. As they kissed, Willy wrapped his arms around Gaga, and they stayed lock-lipped for a long time. I hate to write this, but it was quite a passionate embrace.
“Is it safe for old people to kiss like that?” asked June.
“I’m going to vomit,” said Harry.
“Because of the kiss or the food?” asked May.
“Both,” said Amanda.
“I heard when you kiss like that you get the flu,” said Charlotte.
“Or chicken pox,” said Izzy.
My little cousin, Sam, covered his eyes like he didn’t want to watch, which made Charlotte and Izzy do the same thing.
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