The Story of My Face

by Leanne Baugh

  “Abby, who’s that hot guy you’ve been keeping from us?” Briar asks.

  “My climbing instructor who quickly became a friend,” I say.

  “I think it’s time for me to take some climbing lessons,” says Grace, checking out Matt and his big biceps.

  The whole group gathers around Matt in front of the climbing wall. “As I’m sure many of you know, climbing is not only a physical challenge, but also a mental puzzle you’re trying to put together as you work your way up the wall, or mountain,” he says.

  “You have to introduce me to this guy,” Grace whispers to me as Matt talks. “I just want to run my hands all over his chiseled body. Gawd, those rippling muscles!”

  “As gorgeous and fabulous as you are, he’s twenty-one and has a girlfriend who is a national-level sports climber. Matt’s totally gaga over Lisa.”

  “Damn,” Grace harrumphs.

  Mason, with his red eyes and goofy grin, finally wanders into the gym. Climbing stoned: so not a good idea.

  “Just to review,” Matt says, “since I’m sure you all heard about this last year, there are three golden rules of climbing, and I’m going to ask my star student to demonstrate for you. Abby, would you mind?”

  I freeze. I haven’t climbed in over a year. What if my leg gives out? What if I can’t concentrate?

  “Abby?” Matt says.

  I lean close to Matt and quietly say, “I can’t. I’m way too out of shape. Please ask someone else.”

  “You’ve got to get back in the gear sometime, Abby,” he says.

  I look at Ms.Wong for permission. She nods.

  Mason cheers and claps loudly like an idiot. “Way to go, Abby.” Don’t Harris and Wong see that Mason is seriously stoned?

  I slip on my climbing shoes. Pray really hard that I don’t make a total fool of myself.

  “What’s the first rule? Anyone?” Blank stares. “How about Liam, my mediocre student?” Matt jokes.

  “Hey now,” Liam says with a big smile. “You need straight arms.”

  “Correct. Abby, can you show us?”

  I start up the wall a short ways. I reach to a high grip with my arm extended.

  “See how relaxed Abby looks? The weight is on her shoulders and fingers.” If Matt only knew how every one of my muscles is as tense as a guitar string. “She’s got it goin’ on,” Matt continues. “That’s what we’re looking for. Back down, Abby. I swear this girl is part chimpanzee.”

  Mason makes chimp noises and scratches his belly. He gets a few laughs.

  I find my grips and footing back down. I feel awkward and a bit clumsy, like I’ve never done this before.

  “Second golden rule, anyone?” Matt says.

  “Find your center of gravity,” Justin says.

  “Excellent,” Matt says. “When climbing, it’s important to understand where your center of gravity is and how to make it work for you. It’s roughly the middle point of your body. The weight of your body acts from this point. Where you put your center of gravity can decide whether your weight is on your arms or legs. Abby, demonstrate please.”

  Again, I make my way up the wall. I reach with my right hand, swivel my right hip toward the wall. I reach higher with my left hand, lose my grip, and fall to the ground. Land hard on my butt. Luckily, I wasn’t too high.

  “Nice recovery,” Matt says and helps me up.

  “I didn’t recover, I fell,” I say to Matt. “Maybe someone else should—” But Matt’s not having it.

  “Up you go again,” Matt says to me.

  I look up the wall. A year ago, Liam and I would have raced to the top, no problem. I feel quivery as I start again. Grip, swivel my hip toward the wall, grip again.

  “See how her butt was tucked in?” Matt says. “If it was sticking out, gravity would naturally pull her away from the wall.”

  Again, Mason bursts out, “Nice butt action, Abby.” Matt is obviously getting annoyed.

  “So, if she lets go, the force would rip her off the wall,” Matt says. “See how she rotates her hips in, which pulls the center of gravity in toward the wall.”

  Back down I go. My brain wants to keep going, but my body is fighting it every step of the way.

  “Third rule. Can anyone else guess? I’m sure you learned this last year.”

  “Something about how to use your feet properly?” Grace says, sucking up to the climbing instructor.

  “Yes. Third rule is mind your feet. Abby.” He gestures for me to head back up.

  I place my feet, reach for a grip, pull my hip toward the wall.

  “Abby steps on the toe area of her shoe, not the heel or the center of the foot. This helps her reach higher. Then she rotates her foot and steps on her pinkie toe to help pull her hips in toward the wall.”

  I do reach higher. My body is starting to remember the exhilaration, the flow. I’d forgotten how much I love this. I get lost in my movements, the rhythm, and climb right to the top of the wall. Maybe I will be able to climb mountains again.

  Matt calls out to me. “That’s my girl.”

  I look down at Liam’s smiling face. He starts clapping and everyone joins in. Mason whistles loudly. I bow, hanging on with one hand, and make my way back down.

  Everyone practices the free climb without gear. No one except Liam makes it to the top. I’m actually worried about Mason, but Matt probably knows what’s going on because he calls Mason down when he’s too high off the ground. Matt also makes sure he is Mason’s spotter, holding up his arms to catch Mason’s fall.

  After the free climb, Matt asks Liam and me to demonstrate lead climbing. He first shows everyone how our gear works and how to do safety checks.

  “Our lead climber, Abby, is the one with the harness on. She’ll clip her rope every five feet or so into one of the carabiners. Liam is the belayer. He feeds Abby the rope when she goes up and makes sure that if Abby falls, she doesn’t splat right back to the ground. Okay, now Abby and Liam will demonstrate how to effectively belay.”

  I start climbing the wall, clip my rope, climb higher, clip again.

  “Watch how Liam pulls the slack, locks, and slides up,” Matt says. “Pull, lock, slide. Pull, lock, slide.”

  I’m now at the top. Look down. It may be me feeling chuffed, but everyone looks kind of impressed. Even Mason. I might be deluding myself.

  “Now watch how Liam works the ropes as he lowers Abby down. See how he keeps his hands nice and close to the belay device, how he controls her speed?” Matt says.

  I slowly float toward the ground.

  “Now, Abby, push away from the wall. I want to show how the belayer catches the lead climber’s fall.”

  I push off the wall in free fall. Liam does his job because my body springs up, stops the fall.

  “See how Liam pulled up on the rope? Okay, time to let her down,” I hear Matt say.

  Liam slowly lowers me down but keeps me hovering in the air, high enough off the ground so I can’t touch down. This is a game we used to play when we were first learning to climb—keeping each other hanging in midair.

  “Thanks for saving my life,” I say, looking down at him.

  “No sweat.” Liam smiles and finally lowers me until my feet touch the ground.

  “Your phone number still the same?” Matt asks me when the class is over. Grace and Briar wait in the wings. Liam looks over at us before he leaves.

  “Yup,” I say.

  “Have you ever climbed Mount Louis, near Lake Louise?”

  “Nope, haven’t done that climb,” I say.

  “It’s so awesome. Some of my friends are planning a trip in a couple of weeks. I’ll text you details.”

  “Matt, it’s just…I’m not sure if I’m up for a climb yet,” I say.

  “Trust me. I won’t let a bear anywhere near you.”

 
“In that case, yeah, let me know when you’re going.”

  “It’s been great to see you, Abby. I would be honored to be the one to lure you back to the mountains.” Matt gives me a hug and goes to pack up equipment.

  “Oh…my…God. He’s the whole package and more.” Grace links her arm in mine as we head for the door.

  “If Matt and his girlfriend ever break up, I want to be the first to know,” Briar says, turning around for another look at Matt.

  “The lineup is after me, sistah,” Grace says as we walk out of the community center.

  ***

  “Justin, huh?” I say to Grace as we eat lunch at a school picnic table.

  “He’s not really my type—physically, I mean. Is that a really bitchy thing to say?” Grace asks.

  “Probably.”

  “But he is kind of sweet. He was so nervous when he asked me and looked so surprised that I actually said yes.” Grace bites into a sandwich.

  “Makes sense that he asked you. He’s a good buddy of Liam’s, so the four of you will probably go together and have a very lovely time,” I say, feeling completely and utterly sorry for myself that I’ll be the only one of my friends who won’t have a date for grad. I try to think positive, happy, self-accepting thoughts, but it’s one of those days when the crappy ones keep stomping them down.

  “We probably will go with Serena and Liam,” Grace says, “but not sure about the lovely time. Think you’ll at least go to the banquet and dance?”

  “Not sure. It would feel so weird. Who am I going to dance with? My dad?” I twirl my leftover spaghetti with my fork, but I’ve lost my appetite. I crunch into a carrot stick instead. I look over and see Simon and Olivia at another table holding hands, talking, laughing. Simon looks so happy, which makes me feel even more alone.

  “My mom’s coming to the dinner, too, with her new boyfriend, Howie, who is so incredibly annoying you wouldn’t believe it.”

  “How so?” I ask.

  “For one thing, he really likes to tell me how often he and my mom ‘do it.’ ”

  “Seriously? Yuck!”

  “I know! I wish Mom had asked me first before she bought him a ticket,” Grace says.

  “Gawd, if I do go to grad, I wonder if my dad will want to bring Angela the environmentalist.”

  “Angela who?”

  “A woman he just started dating.”

  “Your dad is dating? Since when?”

  “Since my sister and I signed him up on an online dating site.”

  “My mom sure could have given him some pointers,” Grace says, finishing off her sandwich. “I swear she has been on at least a hundred online dates in the past six months, and I’m not exaggerating. Coffees, lunches, picnics, walks, drinks, dinners.”

  “Remember in ninth grade when we tried to fix up my dad and your mom?” I say.

  “Oh my God! Is that when your dad picked you up at my place and we made him stay and drink chocolate milk until my mom came home from work?”

  “Yeah. Total dislike at first sight.”

  “My mom is so not your dad’s type—the cleavage queen with her fake nails and eyelashes. Your dad is cool, down to earth.” Grace wipes her apple on a napkin. “Abbs, about grad. You’re the one who said it’s just one day and then it’ll be over. Like Christmas.” She bites into her shiny red apple.

  “True. But what will I miss if I don’t go?”

  UNREHEARSED

  I’m not going to leave this life with any regrets, just memories,” Tali says as she reaches the end of her monologue rehearsal in front of the drama class. “I’m going to love, to respect people, to detach myself from all negative energy. I’m going to try everything I want to try—skydiving, snake charming, belly dancing.” Tali uses strong, repeated hand gestures to emphasize her points, which comes across as a bit over the top. “I will take risks and allow the unexpected. As Oprah Winfrey said…”

  Dax, Mason, and a few other people burst out laughing when Oprah is mentioned, so Tali stops, looks hurt. Pushes her glasses higher on her nose.

  “Show some respect, please,” Mr. Owen says, looking right at Mason and Dax. Mason crosses his arms, sighs too loudly, looks bored. Dax follows suit and crosses his arms. “Continue Tali.”

  “As Oprah said, ‘The only people who never tumble are those who never mount the high wire. This is your moment.’ ” Tali pauses and looks at as many people in the eye as possible. “This moment belongs to all of us. Let’s make the most of our precious lives.” Tali finishes and everyone claps, but not very enthusiastically.

  “Comments, questions, feedback for Tali. Anyone?” Owen says.

  There’s an awkward silence. No one wants to say anything.

  Finally, I say, “I think some of the things you have to say are quite compelling. You’re challenging everyone to live life to the fullest, which is a good thing.”

  Tali smiles, looks hopeful.

  “Anyone else?” Owen says.

  “I agree with Abby,” Carter says, “but I think you might want to tone down some of the air punches. It kind of detracts from your message.”

  “Does that make sense to you, Tali?” Owen asks.

  Tali nods.

  “Mason, any constructive feedback for Tali?” Owen asks.

  Mason lets out another big sigh. “Maybe don’t be so earnest. It sounds fake—like you’re overacting. Just speak like you’re talking to a friend or something. And to be honest, I’m not sure about quoting Oprah.”

  “Well I think Oprah is an amazing woman who many people admire,” Tali says. Mason turns away from both Owen and Tali and pretends to throw up.

  “Okay, thanks for your comments everyone,” Mr. Owen says. “What I have to say is not just for Tali, but for everyone to keep in mind. Every movement—whether crossing the stage or making a small gesture—should have a real motivation. Don’t add gestures or movements for effect, it will only distract your audience. Make sense?”

  Tali nods but looks disappointed in the critique.

  “Another big round of applause for Tali,” Owen says. Tali heads for her chair. “Since we’re running out of time, let’s quickly move on. Next up is Abby who will rehearse her monologue, ‘Dancing with the Bear.’ ”

  What? I didn’t know I was up today. Owen hasn’t even approved my second draft. I hear “whoa” and “what the…?” and a few “holy shit.” Holy shit, indeed. And that reaction is just from my title. What am I doing? My cheeks are burning hot, which means my scars will be even more visible. My scars are my only props. I search through my binder and find a printed-off copy of my monologue with Owen’s red scratches throughout.

  I walk to the front of the class. Since I haven’t memorized my monologue yet, I hold the script in my hand. The paper shakes. I don’t remember being this nervous in a rehearsal before. Ever. I look around at everyone. Mason gives me a look that makes me feel like he punched me in the gut.

  I clear my throat and begin. “The s-strange thing was I…I didn’t feel anything, at least n-not while it was happening…”

  I try to keep my head up, make eye contact with the audience, but it’s as if my eyes become glued to the pages in my hands. I just keep going and don’t stop. Trip on my words. Stutter and stall. Lose my place on the page. When I finish, I look up. A tiny white feather floats in front of my face. I sigh deeply and send the feather flying.

  Everyone is quiet. Dead quiet. Even Mr. Owen. I think I hear the feather touch the ground. Everyone just stares at me for what feels like an eternity. I can’t read their faces. Except for Mason—he shakes his head as if I’m a total waste of time.

  “Well…thank you, Abby,” Mr. Owen says, clearing his throat, straining to be diplomatic. “Any comments, questions, feedback for Abby?” Everyone either looks blankly at me or avoids eye contact altogether.

  Saved by the bell.r />
  I stay seated and let everyone file out of the drama room ahead of me. I really want to give Mason and Dax a big head start in hopes they will just leave for the day, rather than stay on the stairs and harass me.

  “It’s clear to me, and the entire class for that matter, that you haven’t been doing much rehearsing on your own,” Mr. Owen says and sits on the chair beside me.

  “That obvious, huh?”

  “You’re one of my most talented students, Abby. And I expected more from you. Especially this year, your final grade twelve performance.”

  Can’t he give me a break? I was mauled by a bear and was in hospital for months. Typical take-no-shit Owen.

  “Yeah, well, I totally forgot that my rehearsal was today,” I say, sounding incredibly lame.

  “You should have been preparing well in advance of today’s rehearsal, including writing another draft. What you’ve submitted so far is not up to your standard.”

  “But I’ve worked so hard on it. I really have. Wrote everything you asked me to—what’s meaningful to me, what I’ve learned from the experience. I guess I still don’t know what you want from me.” My voice is loud. I’m suddenly very emotional, trying not to cry.

  “Your work reads more like a social studies report than a dramatic monologue. Dig deeper and find the heart of the story, Abby. I know you have it in you.”

  I feel like crap.

  “Are you aware that the Graduate Drama Showcase is the week after next?” Owen asks.

  “What?! So soon?” I’m in shock. Really and truly in shock. Where has the time gone?

  “Yes, so soon,” Mr. Owen strokes his ginger beard. “Your monologue has the potential to be powerful. If you’re willing to put in the work, you have a good chance of winning the Theater on the Edge summer internship. Don’t blow that opportunity.”

  “I won’t.” Owen stands up. “Mr. Owen, are you leaving right now?”

  “Yes.” He looks at his cell phone. “I’m late for a staff meeting.”

  I stand and sling my backpack over my shoulder. “I’ll go down with you, and you can tell me more about the internship.”

  Owen and I leave the drama room and head down the stairs.