I nodded, then tried to swallow again. Not long to go now, surely? Two more minutes. One, two, three, four . . .
Finally Mr Saltman stood back. ‘OK, you can rinse now,’ he said as he pressed a button on the side of the chair causing it to suddenly jerk up from horizontal to vertical and so throwing me forward. That’s the other way that dentists get their laughs, I decided. Playing around with their chairs. Most of them have some way of lowering you down or pushing you back up. I wonder if they have ejector buttons for really difficult patients or nasty kids who bite them. They can just press a secret button and the patient flies out of the chair and back into reception. I know I’d have one fitted if I were a dentist. But then, I’m not going to be a dentist. I’m going to be an actress, which is one of the reasons I do actually turn up regularly for this torture. It’s v. important to have good teeth. Which reminds me, I ought to be going over my audition piece for West Side Story. I’d decided to do Maria’s song, ‘There’s a Place For Us’. Pah, I thought, I could have been doing that as a distraction. It would have been a great visualisation, imagining that I’d got the lead part and I was there, on stage, singing my heart out as everyone looked on in admiration.
As I rinsed with the disgusting bright pink liquid in the plastic cup on the stand next to the chair, Mr Saltman went to look at the X-rays of my teeth that he’d taken earlier. He started whispering to his assistant, a girl who looked younger than I do. No way she’s coming anywhere near my mouth, I thought, she’s clearly only just got her second teeth herself.
‘So do they all have to come out?’ I asked. I thought I was being very funny, but Mr Saltman wasn’t laughing.
‘No, none will have to come out, I don’t think,’ he said. ‘But I am concerned about the slight overcrowding in your mouth. It might cause a crossover on the top two teeth as you get older and possibly on the bottom ones too. It won’t be evident for a while but will happen . . .’
What is he talking about, I wondered? Crossovers. Overcrowding. ‘Uh?’ I asked.
‘We’ll need to get an impression of your teeth,’ he said.
‘There you go.’ I beamed, giving him my widest smile.
Mr Saltman laughed. ‘No, not that kind of impression. I need a moulding to send to Mr Schneider, the orthodontist.’
‘For what?’
‘You need to have a brace fitted, Nesta.’
‘A whadttttt!!?’
‘Brace,’ said Mr Saltman. ‘There’s a chance if we leave them that some of the front teeth will grow crooked. A brace will soon correct that, then you’ll have picture perfect peggies for when you’re older.’
‘But I’m fifteen, Mr Saltman.’
‘I know,’ he smiled. ‘Perfect time for the corrections.’
Perfect time to ruin my life, I thought. Perfect time to ruin my appearance. My pulling power. My social life. My snogging skills. My . . . ohmigod, my part in West Side Story. No way can I go for the part of Maria. I’d be the laughing stock as soon as I opened my mouth to sing. In fact, instead of singing, ‘There’s a Place For Us’, I’d have to sing, ‘There’s a Brace For Us’.
‘No. I can’t have a brace,’ I said firmly. ‘No, take all my teeth out and give me false ones. At least that way, I can still smile.’
Mr Saltman laughed again. ‘It will only be for a year, Nesta. And so many people your age have them these days.’
Yes, but I’m not so many people, I thought.
‘It won’t be so bad,’ continued Mr Saltman, ‘and Mr Schneider will keep a close eye on you. You’ll need to go for regular check-ups every few weeks.’
Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, I moaned inwardly. I thought I was through with dentists until the next check-up in six months. As I lay on the chair inwardly going through how my life was going to change, Mr Saltman’s assistant had been out, then come back with what looked like a piece of plasticine on a tray. She put it in front of me.
‘Oh dinner? No thanks,’ I said holding my hand up. ‘I’ll pass.’
Mr Saltman held the gloop close to my mouth.
‘Now bite in,’ he said, ‘and we’ll get a nice imprint of your teeth.’
Dutifully I bit into the minty flavoured putty.
‘Good girl,’ said Mr Saltman. ‘Now hold still until I say.’
That’s it, I thought. My life is over. I shall never go out again. I shall do a Harry Potter and I don’t mean go to Hogwart’s and become a wizard. No, I shall voluntarily move into a cupboard under the stairs and not speak to anyone. Never show my face. Not for a year. Not until I can smile again. So the girls were right, I thought. I am shallow. I do care a lot about my appearance. I can’t help it. I like boys noticing me. I like looking good. And now what? Who’s going to give me a second look except to say, oh how awful. Have you SEEN that girl’s metal teeth? And as for my stage career, this has put an end to all that for a while. No way I’m putting myself in the spotlight now. Huh. Life stinks.
As I waited for the impression to take, I glanced up at the poster of Steve Martin. I could swear he gave me a satisfied smile.
Izzie’s Visualisation To Take Your
Mind Off Bad Times
1) Lie back, close your eyes, uncross your legs and arms. Take three deep breaths right into your abdomen.
2) Think of a time when you were totally relaxed, confident and happy, perhaps by a beach or a river or in the garden in summer.
3) Visualise the colours in your scene, now turn them up, make them brighter in your mind.
4) Imagine the sounds: birds singing, leaves rustling or waves breaking on the shore. Turn the sounds up in your mind.
5) Imagine the smells: fresh cut grass, the scent of roses or the salty air at the sea. Turn the scents up in your mind.
6) Bring all the sounds, scents and sights together into a whole picture in your mind.
7) Fix this picture with a physical sign, ie: when you have the picture clear in your mind, make a gesture with your hands, either touch the thumb and index finger together or clench your fist. Every time you do this gesture in future, it will remind you of your positive feel-good visualisation and take you to a cool state of mind quickly.
Nesta’s Visualisation For Relaxation
Forget Izzie’s version. Way too complicated.
1) Lie back, close eyes. Imagine snogging your fave boy band pin-up and he’s the best kisser you’ve ever come across in your whole life. May also help to imagine that you look your tip-top best at the time.
Chapter 4
Waiting for the date for the brace to be put in was like waiting for exam results and three very looooong weeks later, the dreaded deed was done. On Monday afternoon I went, like a man doomed to the guillotine, resigned to my terrible fate and, though I tried to be brave, even my snogging fantasy didn’t help. I emerged from the orthodontist’s looking to the world a normal teenager, but inside I was a wounded soul, cut down in the prime of my life. I returned home to take refuge in the only place where I would find solace for the next year. Under my duvet.
As soon as school was out, the crowds had gathered to mock.
‘Come on, let us in,’ called Izzie through my bedroom door.
‘Yeah, you can’t look that bad,’ said Lucy.
‘Yeah, come on Nesta,’ said TJ. ‘It’s no big deal, honestly. Loads of people in school have them nowadays.’
‘Yeah and loads of people have spots,’ I called back. ‘Doesn’t mean I have to join them.’
Suddenly I heard a scuffle in the corridor outside my room, then Tony’s voice, some stifled giggles, then footsteps retreating. Well, it didn’t take them long to give up, I thought as I lay back on my bed in my best tragic heroine pose. When things are bad in my life, I sometimes try and pretend that I’m a character in a film and act through the feelings I’m experiencing. I racked my brains for an appropriate role. Heroine with a brace? Julia Roberts? Sandra Bullock? J-Lo? Hhmm? Parts with braces? Parts with braces? No, the only role that kept coming back was Anthony Hopkin
s as Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs, when he’s in prison and has to wear a metal contraption over his jaw to stop him eating people.
I got up and went to the door to listen for clues as to what my mates were up to. Silence. Huh, I thought. Abandoned in my hour of need. I know I wouldn’t let them in my room, but they should know well enough by now that I would have done in a few minutes. I just wanted them to appreciate how upsetting this all was. I’d been putting on a very brave face for the last few weeks since I heard I had to have a brace. Laughing it off, saying it was no big deal, I didn’t care, etc. All lies, so that they wouldn’t think that I was vain or shallow. But now it was in, on, or whatever, I couldn’t keep up the act. I needed my mates to commiserate with and tell me that it was all going to be all right. I did care. It did hurt. Not so much when it was fitted, but afterwards. Strange and sharp in my mouth. Uncomfortable for a few days is what Mr Schneider had told me it would feel like. Uncomfortable! I think he needs to check his dictionary definitions. This isn’t uncomfortable, it’s agony, my gums ache like anything. And it didn’t help that the first person I bumped into when I came out of Mr Scheider’s surgery was Michael Brenman from Year Twelve. We had a very brief thing once (a snog) and he gave me a big flirty smile when he saw me. Course, all I saw were his perfect, white, straight teeth. I clamped my lips together and ran. Oh misery, I thought, is this what it’s going to be like for the next year? Year. Year? That’s three hundred and sixty-five days. Twelve months, fifty-two weeks of not being able to open my mouth when a cute boy is around. If ever there was a hell on earth, this is it.
I could hear footsteps returning, so I unlocked my door then leaped back on to the bed. Someone tried the handle, then on seeing that the door wasn’t locked any more, Izzie stuck her head round. When she saw me lying there, she opened the door wide. Lucy, Izzie, TJ and Tony all stood in the frame of the doorway giggling like five-year-olds. Then they smiled. They all looked like they had no teeth.
I cracked up. Even though I’d been determined to keep up my tragic heroine act a little longer, I had to laugh (though I made sure I put my hand over my mouth as I did).
‘All for one and one for all,’ a toothless Lucy said with a grin.
‘How did you do that?’ I asked from behind my hand.
‘Drinking chocolate,’ said Tony. ‘You put some in your mouth then sort of mush it up a bit, then put it on your teeth with your tongue.’
‘Just to show that you’re not alone,’ said TJ.
‘Hey, come on,’ I said. ‘I still have my teeth! It’s only a brace.’
Izzie rubbed her tongue along her front teeth, turning them back to white. ‘Exactly,’ she said, then came over to sit next to me on the bed. ‘So come on, give us a look.’
The others crowded round and stared at me, like they were waiting for a circus freak to begin his act. I shook my head.
‘You’re going to have to open your mouth sometime,’ said Lucy. ‘Come on, put your hand down.’
I shook my head again. ‘It’s horrible.’
‘OK, then we’ll all have to start talking like you, with our hands over our mouths,’ said Lucy. ‘We’ll start a new craze.’
They all started messing about, talking with their hands over their mouths. Maybe it’s not so bad, I thought as I watched them all having a laugh. Maybe I can risk it.
‘OK, I’ll give you a quick look,’ I said. I moved my hand away from my face, then attempted a smile.
Mistake. Not even Izzie was fast enough to cover her shocked reaction. ‘Woah,’ she said.
‘Wow,’ said Lucy coming closer and staring at my teeth. ‘Did it hurt a lot?’
‘More now than when he put it on. It’s kind of sore,’ I said as I put my hand back over my mouth. ‘My whole mouth aches. Does it look like . . . totally awful?’
By now Izzie had recovered. ‘No, not totally awful. Just a shock at first as we’re not used to it. But it’s OK. And it’s not the end of the world . . . You still look fabulous . . .’
‘As long as I keep my mouth shut?’
Izzie nodded, then burst out laughing. ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she blustered, ‘just people are always telling you to keep your mouth shut and now you’re going to. Sorry. I wouldn’t laugh if you were really hurt or something . . .’
I gave her arm a light slap. ‘It’s OK. I guess I wouldn’t want you lying to me. I know it looks weird. They’re called railway tracks because that’s what they look like. I could have got coloured ones if I’d wanted, but I didn’t want to draw more attention to them than necessary.’
‘I don’t know,’ said TJ, ‘Mary O’Connor has got pink and purple ones, I think they look really cool.’
‘There’s a brace for us,’ sang Lucy to the tune of ‘There’s a Place For Us’ from West Side Story. ‘Somewhere . . . a brace for us.’ They’d all thought it was really funny when I’d told them of my version of the song and hadn’t stopped singing it since, whenever they saw me, in fact.
‘A brace is a brace is a brace, whatever colour it is,’ I said.
‘Not necessarily,’ said Tony. ‘Henry, a guy at our school, has a Tom Cruise.’
‘Which is?’ I asked.
‘An invisible brace, transparent. Apparently Tom Cruise had one but they cost a fortune. Henry’s parents are loaded though.’
‘It will be all right,’ said Lucy. ‘You’ll get used to it soon. It’s like when you have a bad haircut, you feel you can never go out again but you do.’
‘That’s because your hair grows again,’ I said.
‘No,’ Lucy insisted. ‘It’s because you get used to it.’
‘Yeah,’ said Izzie, ‘and you have so much else going for you, great legs, great body, great hair. No one will ever even notice your teeth.’
Their words of support weren’t helping. ‘No boy will ever fancy me again,’ I said with a groan. ‘I will have to live the life of a nun for a year like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music.’
Lucy picked up a towel from the chest of drawers and put it over her head. ‘Cliiiimb eveeeery mountaaaain, follow eeeevery streeeeam . . .’ she warbled in a soprano voice.
‘We thought you might want to go to Hampstead. Cruise the shops,’ said TJ. ‘Cheer you up a bit.’
‘Can’t,’ I said, lying back on the bed. ‘My former life is over.’
‘Nah,’ said Lucy. ‘Something will happen. As Mum always says, life never closes a door without opening a window.’
I shook my head. ‘Yeah, right. And there’s light at the end of the tunnel.’
‘That’s the attitude,’ said Izzie.
‘Yeah. The light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train.’
Izzie laughed at our old joke. ‘Oh, it will be all right,’ she said.
‘No it won’t. From now on, I’m going to be a recluse.’
‘OK,’ said Izzie, lying next to me. ‘We’ll be recluses with you.’
Tony went to make hot chocolate for all of us (part of his trying-to-impress-Lucy act), then we lay around listening to sad songs about loneliness and generally feeling dejected. Even though I was really the only one who had anything to feel tragic about, it was nice that they tried to share it with me. Tony brought in an opera CD, which he said was about a real tragic heroine (as if I wasn’t) singing about despair. However, by this time, I was beginning to get bored with moping about, and listening to the opera singer screeching away was the last straw.
‘What I don’t understand about opera,’ I said, ‘is why, just when the heroine discovers that she’s about to die of some terrible lung disease, she sings her head off for another hour. Get on, die and put us all out of our misery, I say.’
‘I’ll second that,’ said Lucy.
‘So does this mean that you’ve had enough of being a recluse then?’ asked TJ.
‘Dunno, maybe,’ I said. ‘Yeah. Brace or no brace, this being tragic lark’s a bit boring.’
‘So what shall we do then?’ asked Lucy.
�
�Movie,’ said Izzie.
‘Movie,’ chorused TJ and Lucy.
Half an hour later, we were coming out of the local library with the DVD, Godfather II. TJ loves this film. She’s seen it five times already, mainly because she’s in love with Robert de Niro. Hmm. Each to their own, I thought, he’s not my fave fantasy babe, way too old! Next stop was the pizza shop. This is more like it, I thought, as we made our way through the entrance hall of the library, you’ve got to still have fun, no matter what life throws at you.
Izzie stopped to look at the notices on the board. They advertise all sorts of the stuff that she’s into. T’ai chi, crystal healing, astrology, massage.
‘Hey, check this out,’ she said as she scanned the board. ‘It might be just the thing for you, Nesta.’
I went over to join her and read the notice.
Acting for All. Wednesday nights, 7–8.30. A fun and relaxed class given by a professional actor. Improvisation, drama games, vocal technique and script work. Everyone welcome from beginners to working actors wanting to refresh their skills. £5 per session.
‘Five quid,’ said Izzie. ‘That’s cheap.’
‘A lot of the council-run courses are,’ said Lucy. ‘My mum said they try to make them accessible for everyone.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘sounds good. And it would be good use of my brace time. I mean, no way I can perform in publico like in West Side Story, but to do a class away from school where I don’t know anyone, that would be cool.’
‘I still think that you should go for the part in West Side Story,’ said Izzie.
‘And I think you should stand on your head and wave your knickers in the air,’ I replied, ‘but neither of us are going to do it, are we?’
Izzie went to do a handstand right there, up against the wall in the library, but I pulled her back. ‘No, no, I didn’t mean it. But no way am I going for the part. I told you. I don’t want anyone looking at me, but . . .’ I glanced back at the noticeboard, ‘this course looks interesting.’
Mates, Dates and Pulling Power Page 3