Twelve Steps to Normal

by Farrah Penn

  I wave good-bye, but my mind is replaying what Alex said on Friday: I didn’t think my feelings were that complex. We were so out of sync back then, between Lacey, Jay, and my dad. But things are different now.

  Could our timing finally be right?

  I walk into the tech workshop, not surprised to see Alex is the only one working late. He’s wearing his double shirts with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, and a few loose curls fall into his face as he reaches for a screwdriver.

  A nervous zing courses through me. God, he’s gorgeous.

  My heart stumbles. I catch my breath.

  “Hey.”

  He looks up, a grin spreading quickly across his face. “Hey!” He steps to the side, then gestures to his creation. “I wanted you to meet Audrey II.”

  I’m floored. Alex has really brought this life-size monster plant to life. The shell of the Venus flytrap body is coated in a glossy green paint, and vines twist along the outside of the base. The enormous mouth contains dozens of sharp wooden teeth—painted white—that give her a truly menacing personality.

  “I still have some tweaks to work out. I want to make her look more waxy than shiny, but I’ve finally got the pulley system working.”

  He walks around to the back, and I follow. There’s a large, gaping hole in the back of the plant-body, and a small bench, and Alex’s slender frame slides in with ease. His right arm reaches for a rope to his right while his feet press down on two different pedals. In an instant, Audrey II’s giant mouth widens.

  I marvel at the mechanics of it all. “That’s amazing.”

  He eases his grip on the rope, and the mouth closes. “Wanna try?”

  “Can I?”

  Instead of exiting the gap, Alex scoots over to make room for me. My heart bangs against my chest as I slide in next to him, leg against leg, shoulder against shoulder.

  “Okay,” he says, his soft breath tickling my neck. “Press down on both of those pedals and pull the rope at the same time. You’ll feel it give.”

  Our fingers touch as he hands me the rope, and a rush of heat fills my body. I blink away the persistent pounding in my ears, using all my strength to pull. I feel it give, just like Alex said.

  “You’re a natural.”

  I find my voice through my nervousness. “I’ll add it to my list of many talents: Life-sized Botanical Puppeteer.”

  Alex laughs, and the vibrations of his body course against mine. When he stops, he looks right at me. His gaze is so intense, so immediate. My chest rises and falls in quick motions, but his does, too. His soft brown eyes are still searching mine, deciphering. Deciding.

  I so desperately want him to show me exactly what’s on his mind.

  He reaches toward me, his thumb trailing down my jawline. Chills and yearning and desire burst through my chest. Slowly, carefully, he tips his head toward me. His bottom lip brushes mine, a motion that sends raw electricity spiraling through my veins. I take in a sharp breath, closing my eyes as his lips fully cover my own.

  That one spectacular motion sets me off.

  I devour the sensation, breathing him in. His hands are still cold, but the heat from my body could start a fire between us. I run my hands down the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and his breath hitches in surprise.

  All I can think is Alex, Alex, Alex—this is Alex. How long have I wanted this for, and how long have I been denying that I’ve wanted this? His lips are so urgent on mine, but his hands are so gentle. I shiver, tangling my hands through his loose curls before we both gasp, pulling away.

  Oh god. We’re still at school. What were we thinking? I mean, clearly we weren’t, but anyone could have walked in. We’re both on thin ice with Mrs. Donaldson. We don’t need to get on anyone else’s bad side.

  Alex is flushed, and I imagine I am as well. His hair is rumpled but his eyes are glowing, and I ache to dive back in.

  As we collectively try and catch our breath, he turns to me. “Can I ask you something?”

  I wonder if he can see the warmth on my cheeks. “Go for it.”

  “Would you rather live in this gigantic Venus flytrap for the rest of your life, or give Mrs. Donaldson a pedicure?”

  A burst of laughter escapes my lips. I’m still shaky from his kiss, but I try and keep my voice steady. “I’d stay right here.” His hand is still on my knee and when he notices, he blushes. I don’t want him to remove it, but I know it’s probably best to extinguish the flame for now. “God, I don’t even want to imagine touching her feet.”

  Alex laughs. “Me, either.”

  I sigh. Everything has changed, but it feels so right. So easy.

  I turn back to him. “Can I ask you a question?”

  He nods.

  I take a deep breath, then blurt out what’s been on my mind since we talked about it on Friday. “Why don’t you look into applying to a film school? Or somewhere that has a stronger focus in screenwriting?”

  He’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know. Ana is already set on attending Stanford, and Marlina’s already thinking of transferring to Kansas State. It just seems selfish, I guess.” He shrugs. “It feels like I’m ditching my mom.”

  “Does she feel that way?”

  “Well, no—”

  I give him an encouraging grin. “Then why not go for it? You designed this set for Little Shop of Horrors. You’ve finished screenplays—”

  “I was twelve when I wrote those. And they were terrible.”

  “They weren’t, but you’re going to write your own pilot someday. And it’s going to be great.” I look at him. “You’re talented, Alex. You should really go for it.”

  He looks down at the pedals. “It’s hard, I guess. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard if I wasn’t the youngest.”

  “Your mom knows how to adapt to change,” I say. “She’ll be okay.”

  He glances up at me. “What about you?”

  “What about me?” I repeat.

  “I still remember our conversation from that day in the parking lot. You were miserable when you came from practice.”

  I stare down at my hands. Caught.

  “I think… a part of me doesn’t want to be on the Wavettes,” I admit. “The part of me that stays only wants to in order to be close to Whitney and Raegan.”

  “So why don’t you quit? It’s not like you’ll lose their friendship.”

  It’s true. It’s scary how true it is, and yet I continue to be the biggest hypocrite. Because this not how my twelve-steps list is supposed to go. I’m supposed to want to be on the Wavettes with my best friends, to earn back their friendship. I’m supposed to want to reconnect with Jay, but I’m falling for someone completely different.

  “I guess being part of the team makes me feel like I’m part of their lives again, like I was back in freshman year. Even if it doesn’t feel the same.”

  “But… you’re sticking it out until it does feel the same?”

  I shrug, not quite committing to a yes or a no.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he says. “But why try so hard? To get back to a point in time that maybe wasn’t so great for you?”

  My phone chimes with a text. Dad. Almost done with tutoring?

  Ever since my outburst with Peach, he’s been keeping a closer eye on me. I’ve caused the walls to go back up between us, but I know the only way to break them down is to apologize to both him and Peach. I still haven’t, and I know that hurts him more than he’d ever admit.

  I’m thankful to use my dad as an excuse to exit this conversation. “I should get home.”

  His features sink with disappointment. “Yeah, okay. It’s getting late anyway.”

  He climbs out of Audrey II, then extends a hand to help me.

  I’m reaching down to get my book bag when he says, “Listen… I, uh. It’s just that, if you ever need another Slurpee night, I’m available. You can text me anytime.”

  I know his words are coming from a good place, but they fill me with unexpec
ted guilt. Here I am again, avoiding his hard questions by looking for an escape when he’s simply trying to be there for me. And after we just kissed. I hope he doesn’t take it as a rejection, because it’s not.

  It’s definitely not.

  He’s asking the questions I should have been asking myself all along. “Thank you,” I say, and I hope that he knows I mean it.

  He smiles, but his face doesn’t light up like it did before.

  With one last glance, I do the only thing that comes easy. I leave.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  THE NEXT TWO DAYS OF Wavettes practice are exceptionally awful. Coach Velasquez plays a recording of our homecoming performance from her phone, ripping our form to pieces. Because we were off our A-game, we run through our main sequence dozens of times and stay thirty minutes later than we usually do for a longer cool-down.

  By Thursday evening, I’m so sore and exhausted that I fall asleep on the living room couch. When I wake up, it’s somehow already nine o’clock. I sit straight up, already in a full-blown panic. I have a ton of homework due tomorrow that I haven’t even started.

  My sudden motion startles Saylor, who’s sitting on the love seat across the room watching Animal Planet with Nonnie.

  “Shit,” I say. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  Nonnie rubs her cat slippers together. “That’s quite the amount of expletives.”

  I rub my eyes. They’re raw and itchy—no doubt my mascara is smeared everywhere. My skin feels dry from falling asleep with makeup on. I’m going to regret it when I break out later this week.

  “I have an English paper due tomorrow.” I dig through my schoolbag that I’d left by my feet. “I haven’t even started. I’ll be up all night.”

  Saylor eyes the textbooks I’m piling on the coffee table. “I can help.”

  “Thanks, but—”

  “Seriously, I don’t mind. I’m not working tonight.” He motions upstairs. “Go get your laptop.”

  My brain is too scrambled to come up with any better ideas, so I go and grab my computer. When I bring it back down, he takes it from me and opens a blank Word document.

  “What are you—?”

  “Get your book and tell me your thesis,” he says. “You think, I’ll type.”

  My stress level begins to dissolve. It takes me a moment to remember the prompt for my essay. “I have to write if I think John Proctor is a hero or an anti-hero. From The Crucible.”

  “Ah, I know that one,” Nonnie interrupts. “Shakespeare?”

  Saylor and I exchange a horrified look.

  She stands up, patting me on the arm. “You know, maybe I’ll grab us some snacks.”

  As she disappears into the kitchen, her teal curlers bobbing as she walks, Saylor turns to me. “I’ve read it,” he assures me. “What’s your stance?”

  I talk, trying to remember what I’d thought when I finished the play. John Proctor isn’t a hero. Not really. He chose to die rather than continue living a lie, because his reputation and name would be tarnished going forward.

  Saylor’s typing everything I’m saying, and it hits me that he’s helping me even though I pretended not to know him when I saw him at 7-Eleven with Lin. I never apologized for that, but I never felt like I had to. It’s my business what I choose to tell my friends, isn’t it? I shouldn’t feel bad about that.

  Nonnie comes back with a bowl of frozen grapes, and when Saylor reaches for one I allow myself to look at him. Why is he being so nice to me? Peach too, even though she hasn’t been around much the last few days. She definitely deserved an apology that never came, and yet they haven’t held any of this against me.

  By the time I’m done making a compelling argument, Saylor just stares at me.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” he says, but he doesn’t look at me as he hands my laptop back to me. “You have a very interesting essay, that’s all.”

  The front door unlocks, and a second later I hear my dad call hello. Once a week he’s agreed to take later janitorial shifts so he can meet with his therapist in the morning.

  Wallis is the first one to the front door, greeting him enthusiastically.

  “We’re in here!” Nonnie hollers.

  When my dad sees the three of us sitting in the living room, he smiles. “Has Kira convinced you all to start watching Crime Boss?”

  “I missed it,” I admit. “My quick nap turned into a four-hour coma. Saylor was just helping me finish an essay.”

  My dad doesn’t hide the impressed look on his face. “That was nice of him.”

  “Thank you,” I blurt, turning to Saylor. Because he’s right—it was nice.

  “It’s no problem, but I’m going to head to bed,” Saylor says, shooting me another strange look. “I’ll see y’all in the morning.”

  It’s not until I read it over the next day that I realize why Saylor was looking at me strangely. My essay is interesting, but only because I was never talking about John Proctor living out a lie. I was talking about myself.

  TWENTY NINE

  WHITNEY AND I ARE THE last ones in the locker room after rehearsal on Tuesday. I know she’s killing time waiting for Jay to be done with basketball practice. It’s what I used to do, which is why I’m taking advantage of this rare one-on-one time I have with her.

  “Whit?”

  She glances at me in the mirror, carefully applying her lip stain.

  I sigh. “Will things ever not be weird with us?”

  She considers my words for a moment. Ever since I didn’t show up for the homecoming dance, she’s been treating me like she’s better than me. At practice, she’ll only talk to the seniors, leaving Raegan and me to break on our own. And the other day at lunch, when I said I was thinking of dying the ends of my hair purple, she sneered and said, “It’ll clash with our uniforms.”

  When she wasn’t looking, Lin glanced at me and rolled her eyes.

  But that’s the thing. I don’t want Whitney to be someone I roll my eyes at behind her back. She was someone I told everything to, including my crush on Alex freshman year. Our one-sided friendship isn’t just frustrating, it’s infuriating.

  When Whitney speaks, her voice is soft. “I don’t know.”

  This is not the answer I wanted to hear, but if I’m being honest with myself, it was the one I expected.

  I don’t try and hide my annoyance. “Okay, well when you do know… you know where you can find me.”

  I walk out of the locker room before she can say anything else. It doesn’t feel good, but I’ve already apologized. Her insecurities are out of my hands.

  I’m pushing open the double doors to the junior/senior lot when I spot someone standing by my car. My heartbeat quickens. He has a different beanie on today—this one’s dark blue—but I’d recognize him from across a football field.

  “Hey,” Alex says, his smile warming me to my core. Before I can reply, he gently takes my hand and drops something inside.

  I immediately open it. There are three strawberry banana Starbursts, the best kind.

  The corners of my lips turn up into a smile as I start to unwrap one. “You saved them for me.”

  “You sound surprised.” He smiles. “But actually, I was just about to text you. Want to stop by the restaurant for dinner?”

  I nearly choke on the candy. Alex looks startled. I hold up a hand to tell him I’m fine, but I’m not sure if I am. Because I know he’s talking about Rosita’s, his parents’ restaurant. So does that mean Alex is asking me on a date? Or is this, like, a casual oh-we’re-just-getting-burritos thing?

  “Sure,” I say, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice.

  I used to go to Rosita’s with Alex in middle school to do homework. The last time I remember going with him was freshman year when we were working on an English essay, but something tells me that we’re not going to work on algebra.

  Alex smiles at me, and a slow tingling spreads from my belly to the tips of my fingers. It’s been a week since our kiss, and
I haven’t been able to forget it. I want to tell him I feel the same way, that I want our friendship to be something more, but I can’t seem to find the opening words.

  “Cool.” He unlocks his truck, which is only a few spaces over from mine. “I’ll drive?”

  The fluttering returns, because going together actually feels like it could be a real date.

  On the way over there he fills me in on the fall play and the upcoming Little Shop of Horrors auditions and the finishing touches he needs to put on Audrey II. I listen, my gaze falling on his mouth every so often.

  But suddenly the sun is dipping below the skyline and we’re at Rosita’s. Everything I want to say becomes stuck in the back of my throat.

  When we walk inside, I spot Alex’s mom refilling drinks for a couple sitting near the window. Her face brightens when she sees me.

  “¡Mijo!” She gives Alex a quick squeeze before enveloping me in a bear hug. I let myself relax, hugging her back. “¡Te ves bien! You’ve been well?”

  “Yes! Thank you,” I say, smiling. It’s the less complicated answer, anyway. “It’s great to see you.”

  “Vamos a comer,” Alex says, then switches back to English. “I’ll help you close later.”

  His mom gives him a grateful look. “Sí, sí, necesitas comer,” she says, then goes back into the kitchen.

  “Food?” I guess.

  He grins. “Hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starving, actually.”

  “Good. If you recall, she doesn’t exactly hold back.”

  Alex and I sit down at the bar. “It looks exactly how I remember it.”

  “Not much has changed. But hey, my dad might be coming home soon. Hopefully by December. We think we might have a buyer for the restaurant.”

  “Alex.” His smile is contagious. I’m really happy for him. “That’s amazing.”

  “My mom could really use help with my little cousins. Ana and I switch off evenings closing here, but she’s buckling down with her college apps. She shouldn’t have to be distracted.”

  I can’t help staring at him. He’s so selfless. He’s not the only one who has more people living under his roof, and he’s never complained about it. Not once.