How to Rock Braces and Glasses

by Meg Haston

  “Sold out of those flower pin things?”

  “Yeah. Thanks, by the way. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” Liv scratched at a quote about fishing from The Old Man and the Sea on the locker next to mine. It peeled instantly under her thumbnail.

  “Ummm… I give up.” I twirled the dial on my padlock, the spinning digits blurring out of focus. I rubbed my eyes until the numbers were clear again, then tugged at the padlock and flung open the rickety metal door.

  “So you know how the skirt on your Guys and Dolls costume used to go below your knees?” Liv’s voice was muffled. Beneath the door, Molly’s boots shuffled impatiently.

  “Yeah.” I tossed my backpack onto a pile of textbooks and checked my reflection in the mirror. The violet color around my pupils looked cooler than ever, but the whites of my eyes looked… pink.

  “Well, your friendly neighborhood costume designer got a little creative.”

  I slammed the door and we were nose to nose. “You didn’t.”

  “Mid-thigh is way more flattering.” Liv batted her dark lashes. “Quinn’s gonna love it.”

  “LIV!” I lifted my hand for a high five.

  Molly jumped in and slapped my palm. “Wanna know what I did during study hall? Tried to come up with a hot boy-girl party idea.” She yanked up the sleeves of her thin white cardigan and planted her hands on her hips. The puffy coat had disappeared after the broadcast. Good girl.

  “I told you, go with Paris.” Vanessa Beckett, the fourth in our group, strode toward us. In her fitted bomber, skinny jeans, and super-short pixie cut, she actually looked kind of French. I would have mentioned it, had the subject of the pixie not been, how do you say, le sore subject?

  When Nessa got to my locker, she pocketed the stack of neon flashcards she was always carrying around for one test or another, then air-kissed me on both cheeks. The air kiss had been the routine ever since she got back from Paris last week, where her shrink mom had attended an international psychiatry conference, and Nessa had tested the language barrier with a scissor-happy French hairstylist.

  “Cute boys and pastries!” I pressed my winter-ravaged lips together and air-kissed her back. Molly read my mind and slapped a worn tube of strawberry Burt’s Bees into my grip.

  “Sounds like a party, n’est-ce pas?” Nessa flicked a clump of dark bangs away from her eyes. “Ugh. I can’t wait for my hair to grow out.”

  I didn’t know why she was so self-conscious about the cut. With her exotic, almond-shaped eyes, mocha skin, and wide, even smile, she could have rocked a bald cap.

  “I told you, the pixie looks amazing.” I slathered a waxy layer of Burt’s over my pout. It was the closest I was allowed to get to lip gloss before high school. “Fact: Yes, long hair softened your jaw line a little.”

  Nessa’s delicate fingers flew to her jaw.

  “And fact: Hair this short draws attention to your ears. But fact: Going this short takes serious confidence. I don’t know another girl at this school who would do that.”

  “Pardon?” Nessa’s eyes narrowed. “Who said anything about my ears?”

  “Can we please get back on topic?” Molly piped up. “My party?”

  “Later. Time for rehearsal.” I spun on the heels of my worn glitter Converse sneakers and snaked through the crowded hallway. The kids obstructing our path seemed to step aside as I led the girls down the hall.

  “Two days,” Molly reminded me over hallway chatter and the ding of neglected cell phones. “The party’s in Two. Days.”

  “Got it,” I sighed.

  At the corner of Hemingway and Silverstein, I glanced through the door that led to The Square, the heated courtyard in the center of Marquette’s four halls. Colorful drawings, quotes, and a four-square court were chalked onto the slate tiles. The stone bench in the center, where the girls and I ate lunch, was the one unchalked piece of real estate. People knew better.

  We rounded the corner onto Silverstein. The first set of double doors was just steps away. Which meant that Quinn Wilder was just steps away.

  My heart vibrated in my chest at the thought of Quinn, possibly coating his lips with Burt’s at this very second in anticipation of my arrival. Every girl in the entire school had a crush on Quinn Wilder, but I hadn’t really noticed him until earlier this month, when we’d both auditioned for Guys and Dolls.

  Correction: when he’d heard I was a shoo-in for the role of Sarah Brown, the good-girl romantic lead, and then he just happened to show up to audition for the role of Sky Masterson, the smooth-talking gambler who wins Sarah’s trust. And her heart.

  Coincidence? Pas du tout. Especially since being in the musical meant Quinn had to give up his position as captain of the guys’ basketball team this season. Now that was true lo—

  “Kacey!” Out of nowhere, a suitcase-wheeling band geek in full uniform came barreling toward me, blocking my path to Quinn. “Kacey Simon?” She came to a stop just inches from my face.

  “That’s what they call me.” The girls and I took a collective step back, and I cringed. There was so much metal in this girl’s mouth, I could practically check my reflection in her incisors.

  “Oh… mygod. It’s you.” Out of breath, Band Geek pawed through the front pocket of her suitcase and ripped out a pen and a smudged piece of paper that smelled like expired Cheez Whiz. “I’m… your biggest… fan. Will you sign my journalism syllabus?”

  “Seriously?” Nessa rolled her eyes and reached into the inside pocket of her bomber jacket, producing a small yellow notepad and pen. As student director of Guys and Dolls, she used the pad to note when actors screwed up. Lately, she’d started noting when anyone outside of our group screwed up, in life. Without taking her eyes off Band Geek, she flipped to a fresh page and scribbled a quick note.

  “No problem.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing and pressed the crinkled paper against my thigh. “Simon Says: Try smiling with your mouth closed. It will totally accentuate your pouty lips, instead of your metal mouth.” I thrust the syllabus back into her hands. “There you go.”

  Band Geek’s lips trembled as she stretched them over her teeth. They didn’t quite touch.

  “Better.” I nodded encouragingly. “It’ll take practice.”

  “Mmmm mmmmmmmmm.” She nodded, her cracked lips turning white with effort. Then she turned and scurried down the hall.

  “Nice work, sister.” Liv squeezed my shoulder. “Another soul saved.”

  “What can I say?” I led the girls to the auditorium doors and whipped them open. “I’m a giver.”

  Marquette’s auditorium was built to look like an old-time theater, with creaky plush seats and gold-plated numbers on the armrests. A gold-flecked carpet lined the center aisle from the doors to the orchestra pit. Heavy velvet curtains with thick tassels hung from the high ceilings. And a trio of spotlights cast the stage in a golden glow. Center stage. It was where I was meant to be, at least when I was off the air.

  Straight ahead, the cast of Guys and Dolls was standing in a circle onstage, holding hands and doing vocal exercises over the sound of the band warming up in the orchestra pit.

  “Just finishing warm-ups, girls,” called Sean, first-year U.S. government teacher by day/drama advisor by afternoon. He’d insisted we call him Sean since day one, because he thought it made him look cool. Which was probably the same reason he wore designer jeans to rehearsal. Ew.

  “Sooo sorry we’re late, Sean.” I hustled down the aisle, and my crew followed. “Crazed fans, you know?” We hurried up the steps to the stage. I took a spot directly across from Quinn, so I could watch him toss his sandy blond bangs out of his eyes like he was just getting out of the swimming pool. Molly, Liv, and Nessa took the spots to my right, bumping Jilly “It’s Jillian ever since I got accepted to Northwestern’s theater camp” Lindstrom out of the way.

  “One more exercise before we get started,” Sean said. “I’d like you all to close your eyes.”

  While Sean and Jilly pretended to b
e trees blowing carelessly in the wind, Quinn refereed a heated thumb war between his two basketball buddies, Jake Fields and Aaron Peterman. I squinted, trying to zoom in on Quinn’s lanky, athletic frame. But I couldn’t get a clear picture. His bangs blurred against his face, making his head look like a khaki blob floating over a gray henley and jeans.

  “You okay?” Molly’s hot breath on my ear made me jump.

  Yeah, I mouthed.

  “ ’Cause your eyes look kind of red.”

  “Probably just the lighting,” I hissed.

  “You sure? Because you can’t miss my boy-girl party.”

  “Okay.” Sean clapped his hands together and opened his eyes. “Good work. Now let’s get started. Liv, take the sixth graders backstage and get them fitted for their dancing dice costumes.”

  “Right on.” Liv exited stage left, followed by a herd of extras.

  “Where’s my student director?” Sean hopped offstage and took his seat third row center.

  “Here!” Nessa waved her notebook authoritatively. Student director was the perfect role for her. She got to boss people around and beef up her transcript at the same time.

  “As long as we have the band, why don’t we rehearse a few musical numbers?” Sean suggested. Now that he was far away, I could see the individual strands in his over-gelled goatee. But Quinn, who had meandered closer to me, looked like a reflection in a hazy funhouse mirror.

  What was going on?

  “Or, we could practice the ‘wedding scene.’ ” Nessa put air quotes around the words wedding scene, since everybody knew that was code for Kacey and Quinn’s Onstage Smoochfest. “I’m feeling like that scene could use some work.”

  I was feeling like Nessa was a genius. I mentally crossed my fingers.

  But Sean ignored the suggestion. “We’ll start with ‘I’ve Never Been in Love Before.’ Let me have Kacey and Quinn downstage center, please! The rest of you, don’t go far.”

  “So… hey.” The hovering blob in front of me smelled like winterfresh gum.

  I rubbed my eyes. Hard. But this time when I opened, the view was still a yummy-smelling gray and blond Monet.

  “Hey,” I murmured back, smiling like I could absolutely see him.

  “You going to Sugar Daddy after rehearsal?” Then came a whiff of almond extract that must have meant a hair toss.

  I shivered as the scent washed over me. “Yeah.” It was obviously just a way for Quinn to keep talking to me, since we always went to Sugar Daddy after rehearsal. And things were heating up between us. Two weeks ago, I custom-ordered a butterscotch cupcake with dark chocolate frosting and mini-marshmallows. And last week? He ordered the same cupcake. It was only a matter of time before we split one. Which was basically the same as kissing.

  “So,” I said, searching for his aqua eyes through the haze. “Are you going to Molly’s party Saturday?”

  “Yeah.” And then he said: “Cool contacts.”

  Quinn!

  Wilder!

  Liked! My contacts!

  My legs shook. It wasn’t nerves. It felt more like… love shivers. Combined with fate. Combined with the teensiest bit of fear that I might be going blind.

  The band launched into the intro. I let Quinn grab my hands and lead me around the stage as he sang his solo, a ballad about how his “character” had never felt this way about “any other girl.” The strength in Quinn’s voice, and the way he squeezed my hands super tight, showed me he meant it. Nobody was that good an actor.

  When he finished, I opened my mouth to belt out my opening line. “I’ve neeeeeever been in looove befooooooore—”

  “Hold it!” Sean bellowed, silencing the band. And me.

  “CUT!” Nessa yelled unnecessarily.

  I squinted into the spotlight and dropped Quinn’s hands. “What?”

  “Kacey, is everything all right?” Sean’s forehead collapsed into four distinct waves. “Do we need to go over your blocking again?”

  “No.” My eyeballs were starting to feel like they had rug burn.

  “Because you were looking over Quinn’s shoulder instead of looking lovingly into his eyes,” Nessa clarified. “Like the script says.”

  “I think something’s wrong with her eyes,” Molly volunteered from the second row. “Maybe I should take her pl—”

  I whipped downstage left. “Nothing’s wrong with my eyes, thankyouverymuch.” I crossed my arms over my chest to keep from clawing out my contacts.

  “Maybe we should take a break,” Sean suggested.

  “No!” I screeched. “No break.” While the rest of us were just trying to get through rehearsal, Molly was vying for her big break. And I knew her well enough to know how the scene played out in her head.

  MOLLY

  Kacey, what’s wrong? You look terrible.

  SEAN

  Maybe you should sit this one out, Kacey. Maybe Molly should sub in for the rest of rehearsal.

  MOLLY

  (looking shocked) Gasp! I never thought of that! Okay! I mean, if Kacey doesn’t care.

  KACEY

  Wait! No! (Faints in horror and has to be carried offstage by the tech crew.)

  Molly sprints to the stage and rehearses song with Quinn.

  Enter BROADWAY TALENT SCOUT.

  BROADWAY TALENT SCOUT

  You’re amazing! Ever thought of a career on the stage?

  MOLLY

  (looking shocked) Gasp! I never thought of that! Okay! I mean, if Kacey doesn’t care.

  Molly goes on to win record number of Tony Awards for Best Performance by a Middle-Schooler.

  Over. My. Dead (and blind). Body.

  “Let’s just take five, everybody,” Sean said. “I think we could all use a break.”

  “Later, Simon.” Quinn’s Altoid essence faded into the wings.

  I lowered myself to the stage in a huff. I needed a butterscotch cupcake with chocolate frosting and mini-marshmallows delivered downstage center. Stat.

  After a few seconds, the smell of strawberry Burt’s Bees drifted by.

  “Kace? Want us to take you to the bathroom?” Molly’s fake hair grazed my shoulder.

  She sounded sincere, at least. And since I needed a fresh coat of Burt’s before Quinn and I stage-kissed…

  “Okay.” I nodded. I felt the pressure of Nessa’s grip on my left forearm, then Molly’s on my right. I jumped to standing.

  “Your solo sounded really good,” Molly offered as we shuffled down the aisle.

  “Dead on,” Nessa agreed.

  “Totally. Wicked pipes,” offered the boy blob blocking the double doors.

  I stopped in my tracks. So did Molly and Nessa.

  “Huh?” The most I could make out was a paintbrush stroke of electric blue at the top of Mystery Boy’s head, a white T-shirt, and jeans that…

  I scanned again, for confirmation.

  … tapered at the ankle.

  “I said, wicked pipes,” the kid repeated. “You have a really good voice.”

  “Oh. I know.” Newsflash: skinny jeans? Unacceptable boy attire.

  “Mind if I hang out and listen?” Pretty gutsy for a boy in girl jeans. Who was this kid? I knew everyone at Marquette worth knowing, and I’d never seen him before.

  “Actually? This is a closed rehearsal,” I informed him.

  “Cool jeans,” Molly cooed, flicking her high pony flirtatiously.

  I swallowed. Was she going blind, too?

  Skinny Jeans raked one hand through the blue streak in his hair. “I just heard the music and thought you guys sounded pretty good, so—”

  “So buy a ticket,” I snapped.

  “Three dollars in advance, five at the door,” Molly rasped, her voice sounding ten times more hoarse than normal. “We’re selling them at Sugar Daddy later.”

  Skinny Jeans didn’t seem to hear her. “Fine. I see how it is.” His laugh was slow, relaxed. “Break a leg.” He turned and pushed through the doors.

  “She will, with these new contacts,” M
olly said. Her voice dropped to a whisper once the doors swished shut. “Who was that?”

  She was obviously asking me, since I was the first to know everything around Marquette. The student body made it official last year when I got voted Most Likely to Know All Your Secrets, and Then Televise Them. Molly got voted Shiniest Hair. Too bad she burned it all off.

  “New kid from Seattle. I heard he’s in a band,” Nessa put in.

  “I’m so into bands,” Molly breathed.

  I fell into a seat in the back row, my head suddenly swimming. Which was worse: Nessa knowing about Skinny Jeans from Seattle before I did, or Molly publicly falling for a boy in tapered pants? “Wait. How did I not know about this kid?”

  “Maybs you don’t know everything around heeere,” Molly sing-songed.

  I raised my left eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m def inviting him to my party.” Molly tugged her ponytail holder from her hair and did a shampoo-commercial hair toss, sending a gust of wind my way.

  “You might want to rethink a date with blue hair,” I offered with a tight smile. “That streak would wash you out. Oh, and P.S.? A little blush would do wonders for your skin tone right now.”

  Molly inhaled sharply. Nessa coughed.

  “Break’s over, folks!” Sean announced onstage. “Let’s get back to it.”

  I grabbed Molly’s wrist before she could take off down the aisle. “I’m just saying. You deserve somebody way cooler. Somebody with normal hair.”

  But instead of thanking me, she pulled away and stormed toward the stage.

  My jaw dropped. I wanted to remind her that I’d just saved her from public humiliation. That I could have stood by and watched while she crushed on a blue-haired auditorium lurker. But instead, I’d taken the high road and told her the truth. Because friends don’t let friends date punk.

  FEEL THE BURN

  Friday, 7:02 A.M.

  Moving out of the room I used to share with my little sister, Ella, and having the third floor to myself was necessary for several reasons. For one thing, no self-respecting seventh grader should have to wake up to the sight of Cookie Monster underpants.