How to Rock Braces and Glasses

by Meg Haston

  Molly planted a new black glitter day planner in front of her mouth and leaned toward me. “Wait. That’s not Burt’s. Are you… wearing gloss?”

  I managed a pinched smile. I’d lacquered my mouth shut with two coats of Mom’s super sticky peach gloss. Desperate measures.

  “I’M ABRA LAING, AND THAT’S MARQUETTE! IN A MINUTE!” Abra bellowed. “NOW OVER TO RYAN BURKE FROM SIXTH! FOR THE WEEK’S LUNCH MENU!”

  “Did you get the healing energy I was sending from my room?” Liv whispered on my right. “I spent all day Sunday generating good vibes.”

  “Mmmm,” I said again, staring at the back of Nessa’s neck, amazed that she could treat this morning like any other Monday. Like my entire world hadn’t flipped upside down, and then blacked out in the middle of the skating rink. I pursed my lips tighter together and tapped my throat with my index finger. The rough metal brackets scraped at my lips, threatening to break free.

  “What?” Molly twirled the pink streak around a chunky ring on her index finger. I leaned closer. Was that… a skull?

  I swiped Molly’s day planner and ripped out a piece of paper from the back. Liv pulled a pencil from her messy bun and handed it to me.

  Larngi

  Laryngy

  Lost my voice. Dr. says I probably got some sort of throat disease from your party.

  Molly gasped. “Kacey! I’m so SORRY!” She gripped my arm and squeezed tight.

  The sea of floating heads in front of us turned. Paige’s uneven bob cocked to the left. Sean turned off the television.

  “Ladies? Problem?”

  I shook my head quickly, my chipmunk cheeks flaming.

  “Kacey lost her voice!” Molly squeezed my arm tighter. “And she passed out and almost died. At my boy-girl party.” She lowered her head. I would have felt bad for lying to her had my life not been on the fast track to Geekville.

  “You should get somebody to talk for you in class,” Liv decided. “Be your spokesperson, or whatever.”

  “I’ll do it.” Molly waved her arm. “And I’ll take notes.”

  “She can still write, genius,” Nessa turned around and rolled her eyes at me.

  I smiled, then slapped my hand over my mouth. The pulsing pain in my gums was nothing compared to the fear that I’d let my braces show.

  “What are you gonna do about Simon Says?” Liv planted her elbows on the desk. The row of silver spoons she’d bent into bangles clinked together like wind chimes.

  “And rehearsal this afternoon!” Nessa cinched the waist tie on her eggplant trench tight. “Are you dropping out of the show?”

  Rehearsal. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that as long as I played mute, Molly got to play me. But if playing the real Kacey Simon meant playing a lisping, braces-and-glasses-wearing freak show, maybe I didn’t want the part anymore.

  “Being authentic in your characters means committing to the role in every way,” Sean announced at the beginning of rehearsal that afternoon. Most of the cast sat cross-legged in a circle onstage with notebooks and pencils, trying not to have boredom-induced strokes while Sean paced in front of us and read from a tiny square paperback. I sat between Molly and Quinn with my knees pulled to my chest, trying not to relax my trembling lips, which had been plastered over my braces for the last nine hours. “That means committing to your characters’ voices, their emotions, and their movements.”

  A disgusting stink wafted from the cardboard cup Molly was holding. I glared at her, then at the cup.

  “Liv made it for me,” she whispered excitedly. “Some kind of herbal potion thing for my stage voice.”

  I flashed her an ex-cuse me? stare.

  “In case you’re not feeling up to it,” she said quickly, lifting the cup to her lips.

  Quinn elbowed me in the ribs, making my last remaining functional body part throb in pain along with the rest of me. “Sean’s such a nerd, right?” he whispered. His shaggy bangs grazed my earlobe and would have made my entire body convulse with love shivers, if I hadn’t been sweating from the organic wool neck warmer Liv crocheted during lunch to speed up my laryngitis recovery.

  “Today we’re focusing on movement.” Sean closed the paperback and stuffed it in his back pocket. “As we go through rehearsal, I want you all to focus on being inside your characters, not only emotionally, but physically. Explore what your character’s body feels like.”

  “Can I explore what one of the girl character’s bodies feels like?” Brady Kane, one of the lighting guys, breathed over the sound system from the tech booth.

  “Sexist,” Nessa announced firmly, whipping out her notepad.

  “I’ll rephrase,” Sean sighed. “What does it feel like to be your character? Does he or she have a limp? Perfect posture?” He clapped. “Everybody on your feet, and we’ll get started.”

  I racked my brain for stall tactics. Compliment his jeans. Ask where he got his stage presence. Pull him aside and ask for a repeat of that AMAZING lecture he gave last week on the Second Amendment. Wait. All of these involved opening my mouth.

  Molly leapt to standing. “Ready, Sean!”

  “Kacey, I take it you’re going to sit this one out?” Sean asked. “Let Molly step in for you?”

  “I’m happy to help out!” Molly unhooked her hair from behind her ear. It slipped over her face, making a curtain between us that I couldn’t penetrate with my death stare.

  I sneered at the pink streak anyway. Suddenly all I wanted to do was sprint home, dive under the covers, and start the day over again. No. The week. The year. My life. What was I supposed to do? Let Molly star opposite Quinn? Or out myself as a lisping liar in braces? It was lose-lose.

  “Kacey?” Sean prompted me gently.

  My head felt heavy. I nodded slowly. There was no other choice.

  “Awesome,” Molly squeaked without even looking at me. “Oh, and I had some new ideas for blocking, that are, like, a little diff than what Kacey’s been doing?”

  “Okay, then. Let’s give them a shot.” Sean’s glasses bobbed up and down before he turned his back to me and faced the rest of the cast. “I need Molly and Quinn onstage, please? Molly and Quinn.”

  Molly and Quinn. The combination made me want to puke more than Regis and Kelly.

  “Everybody else, take a seat in the first few rows, please.”

  Liv came up behind me and looped her arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go, sicko.”

  I avoided looking at Molly, or Sean, or anybody as we trudged down the stairs. Even with my back to the stage I could tell everyone was watching me. But instead of giving me the usual adrenaline rush, it made me want to crawl under the stage and die of metal poisoning.

  “Wanna sit in the back?” Liv whispered. “I can fill you in on what you missed Saturday night.”

  I shook my head and dragged her to the front row of seats. If Molly was going to hit the stage, I wanted to keep an eye on her. Figuratively speaking.

  “Really?” she asked teasingly, plopping down next to me in the center seats. “You don’t even want to hear the part about Molly trying the nachos at the rink, and how she might be lactose intolerant?”

  “Disgusting,” Nessa added before she slid into the seat next to Liv. The dim house lights gave her wide brown eyes a naughty gleam. “You’re lucky you missed it.”

  I practically had to weld my lips together to keep from laughing. At least two-thirds of my friends knew what it took to make a girl feel better.

  “Quiet, please!” Sean hopped off the stage and sat next to Nessa. The house lights dimmed and two spotlights skittered across the stage before they found Molly and Quinn. In the background, one of the trees burped. “Whenever you’re ready, folks. We’ll pick up in Havana, on the bottom of page forty-seven, with Molly’s line.”

  Kacey’s line! I wanted to yell. I also wanted to point out that Molly was definitely not supposed to be standing that close to Quinn. Why wasn’t Nessa doing her job and directing her back a few steps?

  “Still,
you MUST think I’m a terrible PRUDE,” Molly’s voice rang out, clear and confident. Her fuzzy outline leaned closer to Quinn’s fuzzy outline. So close she could probably smell his bodywash. I dug my nails into the wooden armrests, trying to conjure up the smell from memory. Nothing.

  “I don’t know what you are,” Quinn flirted.

  A fake, backstabbing, scene-stealing, lactose-intolerant UNDERSTUDY! Why was I always the only one who understood the truth about people?

  “You must think I’m something.” Oh, no. Molly was using the exact same voice she used to ask Jake Fields to the sixth-grade Halloween Hoedown. And they ended up disappearing for a good four minutes in the middle of the dance. When she came back? There was straw in her hair. Just saying.

  “Yeah, you’re something all buttoned up,” Quinn observed, like the stage directions were forcing him to talk in the hottest voice ever. Quinn was acting like it didn’t matter that I was dying of laryngitis, or that my best friend didn’t need any convincing to steal my part. He was saying his lines like nothing had changed. “All except one button.”

  Then something bizarre happened. As Quinn’s hand neared the zipper of Molly’s black hoodie, the scene switched into slow motion. Instead of watching Quinn reach for Molly for two seconds, I had to watch it for at least eight. Which was probably why this happened:

  “CUUUUUUUUUUUUUT!” I screamed. And then I was on my feet, and rushing the stage, and the spotlight was on Quinn and me, like usual. Only this time, Molly was standing between us.

  Molly’s jaw dropped and crimson invaded her cheeks.

  “Kacey,” she said to the floor. “Quinn and I are in the middle of a scene. You said you didn’t want to do it.” Even though she wasn’t looking at me, her voice was stronger than I’d ever heard it. No abbreviations. No asking for a second opinion.

  “Thought I’d give my underthtudy a little help,” I spat, the spotlight coaxing sweat from my pores. Oh, no. The lisp. But it was too late to back down.

  “Kacey?” More than anything, Molly sounded confused. “We’ll talk. Later.”

  “Later?” When I sucked in, a few strands of my hair tangled in my braces. “You mean, after you wrap up my thene?”

  “What is wrong with you?” Now she was looking directly at me.

  “Are those braces?” Quinn shielded his eyes from the glare of my mouth. “Hard core.” He chuckled. “Didn’t know you were into heavy metal.”

  “I’m FINE.” My fists clenched at my side. “And you? You’re perfect for what you are… an UNDERTHTUDY. Don’t forget that I’m the lead. And that won’t change.”

  “Girls!” Sean stood up, as if anyone was going to listen to a government teacher at a time like this. “That’s enough.”

  “Um, ew.” Molly lifted the hem of her top and dabbed at her forehead, as if I’d soaked her with spit from my lisp. Drama queen. “Does anybody have some hand sanitizer?” she asked the crowd.

  Laughter peppered the first few rows of the auditorium.

  “Thtop it,” I choked.

  Now everyone was laughing. I tried to catch my breath, but couldn’t. She wasn’t doing this to me. She couldn’t be, after everything I’d done for her, all the ways I’d helped her, including suffering a concussion to make her party cooler.

  “Cut!” Sean yelled.

  I shoved past Molly and Quinn and flew down the steps. Please don’t fall. Please don’t fall. From somewhere far away, Sean was calling my name, but I kept going. Molly could try all she wanted to humiliate me, but no one could force me to sit there and take it.

  I shoved through the auditorium doors and made it into Silverstein before the tears came, making me feel even more stupid and completely alone. I hadn’t cried since… since Dad left.

  “Hey, Sarah Brown.”

  I whirled around.

  “Thkinny Jeanth?” I wheezed, doubling over to catch my breath. My eyes teared up again and his blue streak ran like watery ink.

  “Zander,” he corrected me. He was wearing a Beatles T-shirt over a brown waffled henley. He might as well have worn a sign around his neck that read POSEUR. “And you’re Kacey. Kacey Simon?”

  Not anymore.

  “So. Tough rehearsal, huh?” His voice was soft. He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and took a step forward.

  “Whatever.” I shrugged.

  “Yeah,” he said thoughtfully, like I’d just said something super deep and he had to think it over. After a while, he said, “I used to have braces, too. They’re not so bad once you get used to them.”

  “Right,” I snapped, finally looking at him. “Only by the time I get uthed to them, I’ll be fired from the play.”

  “No way, man.” Skinny Jeans said emphatically. “You definitely won’t lose your part.”

  I shook my head. “You didn’t thee what happened in there.”

  “So? I heard you singing the other day, and you’re really good.”

  “Um, maybe you haven’t heard my little thpeech impediment?” I hated myself a little more every time I opened my mouth.

  “Oh, yeah.” S.J. shrugged. “That goes away after a while. Plus, you don’t have a lisp when you sing. It’s weird.”

  My chin dropped to my chest. “Whatever. Do you have a point?”

  “Actually, yeah.” S.J. dropped his arms to his sides and took a step toward me. Was he going to hug me? Oh. My. God. “I’m, ah, looking for a lead singer for my band. You… interested?”

  Worse than a hug. An invite to hang out with him and his freak friends. Not even I had sunk that low. I scanned the hallway to make sure no one had overheard the invitation. This was how terrible rumors got started.

  Luckily, Silverstein was empty.

  “Uh, no.” I ducked past him. “I’m thwamped. Beginning now.”

  “Need company?” he called after me.

  “Not from you!”

  “Closest door’s at the other end of the hall.” His laugh was raspy, like he’d been yelling.

  “I’m taking the THENIC ROUTE,” I yelled back. Kacey Simon, getting a pep talk from Skinny Jeans? Please. Not in my lifetime. I picked up the pace, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking over my shoulder. At least I could still make a decent exit.

  A JURY OF HER PEERS

  Tuesday, 10:05 A.M.

  The next morning, I trudged down Hemingway alone, head down, while the rest of the student body herded to second period in groups. When no one was looking, I sneaked my glasses from my messenger back and slid them on.

  In my defense, I had to. Mom made me triple swear on my broadcast career last night, after Sean called her to break the news about my rehearsal meltdown. She had told him about my glasses, so if I showed up to class without them, I’d be in serious trouble.

  So I’d caved, and tried my hand at geek chic. I’d whipped my hair into a high, messy bun. My cropped black pencil trousers fell just above my silver Converse. I’d tucked in a white silky tank and cinched my fitted red cardigan with a skinny snakeskin belt.

  And then, there were the glasses.

  My steps slowed the closer I got to Sean’s American government class. In the absence of some sort of miracle, I needed a mantra. Something to get me through the day until I figured a way out of this mess. Liv was amazing with mantras. But since she hadn’t called or texted since rehearsal yesterday, I was on my own. So far, all I’d come up with was I will never say any word that begins with, ends with, or otherwise involves the letter s.

  When I reached the door, I gave the metal handle a reluctant twist. I could feel the ugly brownish-orange frames on the bridge of my nose mocking me. Waiting to reveal themselves to the entire class. I took a sharp breath and stepped inside.

  “Morning, Kacey.” Sean looked up from his papers, but he didn’t smile. “Feeling better, I hope?” His left eyebrow inched over his black-rimmed frames, broadcasting his disapproval.

  “M-morning.” My entire body went hot, then cold as I waited for my classmates to point at my gl
asses. But oddly, no one looked at me. Every single kid in the class was hunched over an iPhone, BlackBerry, or cell.

  “Burn.” Quinn Wilder snorted at his Droid screen.

  In the back row, Molly squealed with laughter, her volume turned up about ten decibels too loud. Liv and Nessa huddled in close to her, snickering. Wait. Why was Nessa sitting in my seat?

  What was going on?

  As if she’d heard my silent question, Paige turned around and stared directly at me. Through her glasses, I could see her brown eyes widen, then seem to melt. She pursed her lips together in a small smile and tilted her head slightly.

  My banana milkshake churned in my stomach the second I recognized the expression.

  Paige Greene… pitied me.

  I broke her gaze. This was the girl who used to hold protest marches in my kitchen on Saturday mornings when we ran out of orange juice. The girl who went on a hunger strike for a full forty-five minutes until my mom and dad both promised to vote in the neighborhood watch association’s midterm elections. This was a girl who’d been wearing glasses for years, without even realizing they were ruining her life. Didn’t she have enough causes to worry about without pitying me?

  The seat next to Liv was empty. I sat down and, like the rest of my classmates, pulled out my cell and stared at the screen. Zero texts. Zero messages. Zero clues. Not only was my phone cold, it was silent, which was more than I could say for everybody else’s. Jumbled sound was leaking out of various phones at different volumes. Liv leaned away from me, so far over Molly’s desk that she was practically falling out of her chair.

  “Hey.” With the toe of my sneaker, I nudged her gold coin ankle bracelet. “What—up?”

  I chomped down on my lip. What up? Come on, Simon. Get it together.

  Liv straightened up immediately. “Oh, hey, girl. Nothing.” Her eyes flitted across my face, resting everywhere but my glasses. “Cool… accessories?” she said uncertainly. If she thought I didn’t see her kick Molly under the desk, she was wrong.

  “Molly?” I pressed. “What’re you guys looking at?”