I tried to be nice and make friends, but someone went around telling people I had Canada Cooties. Like that’s even a thing. First graders can be so mean and dumb.
By the time Friday came around, I was done trying. I hid in the bathroom just so I didn’t have to go out to recess.
When I thought it was finally safe to come out of hiding, the halls were quiet. I took a few steps and was cautious of my surroundings, not wanting to get caught and either end up in the principal’s office or worse, out on the playground.
As I approached the stairs that lead up to the music room, I heard the most beautiful guitar music. It was sad and emotional and somehow felt like home. It was almost like the music knew my heart and I felt safe. My body started pulling me towards the sound, and I danced up the stairs and down the hall to it. I loved ballet, and I hadn’t danced since moving back to Texas. My body physically hurt from deprivation. It hadn’t been stretched or contorted in two weeks and was begging to be pushed to new limits.
If this happened every day, this would become my recess.
* * *
“Looks like you have an audience,” Mrs. Allen said as she stopped in front of the glass window on the music room door. I look up at my music teacher, but she motions for me to keep playing. “I didn’t know we had talent like this in our school. Come look what your music has done, Jackson.”
She picks up her guitar and picks up where I left off while I walk back to the window she was just looking out of.
“Cora?” I whisper in shock.
I knew Aunt Presley was trying to find a dance studio for her but was having a difficult time because of how advanced she was for her age.
I watch her for a few moments more, completely entranced by the way she moved. She was absolutely stunning. Her moves mimicked the music so gracefully, and it was as if the music, my music, was written just for her, and maybe, unconsciously, it was.
Mrs. Allen finished my piece, and I continued to watch her from the side, hidden so that her moment wouldn’t be ruined by me, or embarrassment. Her chest rose and fell quicker than normal, but the thing that caught my attention the most was the smile she had plastered on her face as she walked away. I did that. My music did that.
“Mrs. Allen? Do you, by chance, know anyone that teaches ballet? Like someone really good?
“Actually my sister-in-law used to dance for the New York Ballet. I can ask her if she knows anyone.”
“Yes please. Price isn’t an issue.” I know Aunt Presley would pay anything for Cora to do what she loves.
“Well, that’s it for today Jackson. See you tomorrow.”
“Yes ma’am. Thank you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Mom picks Cora, the twins, and me up from school today, and though she doesn’t mention anything, I can tell she’s in a better mood than she has been the last few days.
Becca and Emma take their usual seats in the middle of the suburban. Usually I would choose to ride in the front seat, however, today I crawl in the back with Cora. The twins prattle off about their day and their plans for the weekend, whose house they’re going over to, and other girly things.
Cora sits quietly amid the noise and looks out the side window. “Did you have a good day today?” I bump her shoulder with mine and she gives me that cute scowl only she can give.
“Ehh.”
“Make any new friends?”
“The kids in my grade are stupid.” Becca’s head snaps backward at Cora’s comment and where I expect an argument, Becca gives a high five and says “Amen.”
Just like Cora, Becca doesn’t go along with the crowd. She has her own beat and has challenged authority since the day she was born. Mom’s had a hard six years.
I know Cora’s had a rough time, but surely that will change soon. I don’t pry anymore, and we finish the car ride in silence.
Once we pull into our driveway, I walk her home so I can talk to Aunt Presley about finding Cora a private ballet teacher.
She pushes the front door open and immediately runs to find her mom. She wraps her arms around Presley’s waist in a greeting, and Aunt P seems to be caught off guard by this show of emotion.
“Well, someone seems to be in a good mood today.”
“Ehh.” Cora shrugs and gives the same answer she gave me earlier. “Can I do my homework upstairs tonight?”
“Sure sweetie, that’s fine.” Cora runs up the stairs and into her room, closing the door behind her. “Thanks for walking her over Jax.”
“No problem. Hey, Aunt P, I hope you don’t mind, but after I saw Cora dance, I asked my music teacher if she knew any ballet teachers. She said her sister-in-law used to dance, and she would talk to her about teaching Cora. She’s supposed to be really good and danced somewhere in New York.”
Aunt Presley stops cleaning up the living room and just stares at me, “When did you see her dance?”
“Today. During my guitar lessons. I guess she heard the music and followed it. She’s really good, and she was smiling after she finished. I know you haven’t been here long, but it’s the first time I’ve seen her happy since you moved back. I just want to make her happy, Aunt P.”
“Thank you Jax. This move hasn’t been exactly easy on her.”
“I’ll give you her information when my teacher gives it to me.”
* * *
It’s the middle of April, and despite having zero friends outside of Jackson and Jace, the school year has surprisingly gone by quickly.
Mommy found me a ballet teacher and I’m finally able to dance routinely again.
Jackson and Jace let me play with them in the tree house from time to time, and when it’s just the two of us, Jackson plays his guitar for me.
Daddy had his surgery, and Mommy helps him with his physical therapy. I’ve heard them talking about Daddy retiring and staying in Texas. I want to scream no at them. I want to go back home to where my friends are, but I think if we left I might miss Jackson.
The weather is finally nice enough that I can spend hours in the tree house and not get too cold or too hot. Uncle Trey had electricity put in when the tree house was built so there are lights that allow me to practice into the night hours. Tree house practices are my favorite, there’s little to no interruptions, and I don’t have to worry about little brothers getting in my way.
Mommy and Daddy let me spend as long as I want to out here, as long as my schoolwork gets done first and my grades stay good.
“Hey Cora,” Jackson’s head peaks up through the hole in the tree house floor, “figured you would be out here.”
“Yep.”
“Mrs. Allen, asked me to play for the talent show next month, and I was wondering if you would want to dance while I played? You don’t have to if you don’t want too, but I just thought I would ask.”
Jackson has become my best friend. But even if he were on stage with me, I don’t know how I would feel about that.
I’ve performed in recitals and special programs, but those are held in front of people who actually care about what I’m doing and see the beauty in my sport. Not in front of nitwitted, feeble minded, simpletons in grades kindergarten through fifth grade. “I don’t know. I don’t want the other kids to make fun of me.”
Jackson stands there looking flabbergasted, that’s this week bonus spelling word, F-L-A-B-B-E-R-G-A-S-T-E-D, I spell my spelling words during warm-ups.
“Cora, no one will make fun of you. You’re an amazing dancer, the way you do those jumps and twirls. Trust me, no one will make fun of you. And if you perform with me, they won't even think of bothering you, I’m an older kid, and older kids run the school. Stick with me and even fifth graders will want to be your friend next year.”
My eyes widen. “You promise?” It really would be nice to have some friends my own age, and with Jackson’s promise to have my back, maybe I should perform in the talent show.
“Absolutely. I can give your teacher my music and she can help you put something together.”
I smile up at him and can tell I surprise him with my next move.
I run over to him and wrap my arms tightly around his waist and squeeze tight. His arms hang to his side like wet spaghetti noodles and I giggle. “You’re the best, Jax.”
It’s the first time I’ve called him Jax and the first time I’ve shown him any affection since moving back here. Eventually he wraps his arms around my shoulders and we just stay like that for a minute. He feels warm and safe, and I really do believe he would stand up to the other kids for me.
“Anything for my Buttercup.”
I push back from him and look sternly at him, “The name’s Cora! Get it right, Jackson!
“I know what your name is Buttercup, but everyone calls you Cora. Only I call you Buttercup.” He smirks and the look on his face forces me to glance down at the ground. I feel myself getting a little embarrassed at his remark, but I feel special. I like it when he’s the one making me feel special.
“Fine. You can call me Buttercup, but not in front of anyone.” My cheeks suddenly feel like they’re on fire and I need a distraction from my feelings. I quickly look around the room and spot his guitar. “Now are you gonna play me what you’re thinking of for the talent show?
He smirks again and dips his head, pretending to wear a hat; he acts like one of those old-time cowboys that tip their hat when a lady walks into the room. I can't help but giggle.
“Yes, ma’am.”
* * *
I’m in shock. Cora’s finally hugging me. I’ve waited for this day since they moved back, but I was a stranger to her and so I waited until she was ready. My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest. Is this what a heart attack feels like? Hug her back, you idiot.
I wrap my arms around her shoulders and it almost feels like she squeezes tighter, nuzzling against me. “Anything for my Buttercup.”
She pushes back and amidst the emptiness I now feel, there is the burning spitfire in her eyes I’ve grown so accustomed to seeing.
“The name’s Cora! Get it right, Jackson!”
I can’t help but laugh, her eyes full of fire, but after hearing Jax on her lips, Jackson seems so harsh.
“I know what your name is Buttercup, but everyone calls you Cora. Only I call you Buttercup.” Her eyes soften and drift to the ground, a tiny blush kisses her cheeks and she mutters out a fine.
Did I just win an argument? This feels awesome. I would do a fist pump if she weren’t standing in front of me right now.
“Now are you gonna play me what you had in mind for the talent show?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I grab my guitar and take a seat on the couch that Dad and Jace’s dad had lifted into the tree house a few years ago. She sits cross-legged on the floor, and just listens to me play.
“Again.” This time she stands and closes her eyes. Her leg makes a grand sweeping motion in front of her and then off to the side as her body begins to move to the music. Thankfully, this is a piece I’ve played numerous times, because I am absolutely hypnotized by her. She is graceful and confident and looks like an angel.
My angel.
Forever.
As I strum the last chord and her body once again returns to a resting position, she smugly places her hands on her hips and my trance is broken.
“So would something like that work?”
And as if my mouth forgot how to form words, I nod until I remember how to speak. “Cora,” her name comes out as a mere whisper and once again she blushes. “How did you do that?” She just shrugs her shoulders and I’m willing to bet she doesn’t see how talented she really is. “Do you not realize how good you are?”
“I’m okay.” I open my mouth to say something else, but the dinner bell rings from Cora’s house and she hurriedly takes off her dance shoes and slides into her slippers before heading out the door, calling back to me to say goodbye and good night. Once again Jax crosses her lips and causes a rush of emotion within me.
“Bye Buttercup,” I say as I watch her climb down the tree house ladder, she leaves me with a parting smile before taking off up the hill to her home. I watch her from the balcony, the setting sun catching her blonde hair as it bounces down her back. “I love you Cora Ann,” I whisper out into the universe. I think I need to talk to Uncle Robert.
* * *
– The Night of the Talent Show –
Mom drives Cora and me to the school since we have to be there early. I can tell Cora is nervous. She keeps pacing the floor in front of me. “It’s gonna be great. Don’t worry.”
“What if I mess up Jax?”
Is she joking right now, I can't tell. We have practiced every day for three weeks. Usually for a couple of hours at a time, and I always have to stop long before Cora does. “Cora, you’ve never messed up. You’ve done this hundreds of times, and you never mess up. If anyone should be worried about messing up, it should be me.” As she passes by me I reach out and take her hand, pulling her onto the seat next to me.
“Look” I put my hand out in front of me “no shaking. Cool as a cucumber.” She rests her head on my shoulder and I quietly sing “Twinkle Twinkle” to her until she stops fidgeting.
“Thank you Jax.”
I can’t describe it, but something has changed between us. She is more relaxed around me and more open. She is silly, and fun, and carefree, and I wonder if this is how she was up in Toronto.
Cora and I are scheduled to perform last; Mrs. Allen didn’t think it would be fair to the other kids if we went before them.
Once it’s our turn, Cora takes her place behind the closed curtains. She commands center stage, while I find my place off to the right and behind her. “Just breathe Cora,” I whisper to her as Mrs. Allen makes our introduction.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all so much for coming out tonight to watch our amazing students perform, I know they all have had a blast and enjoyed showing off for you.
“Our final group of the evening is bound to surprise you. Please give a round of applause to first grader Cora West and fourth grader Jackson Ryan.”
There are a few applauses and the curtain opens. I strum the opening cords of my song and soon Cora begins to dance around while I sing the song I had written. Long, unhurried movements pull at the audience’s attention and soon the auditorium is under her spell.
I keep my eyes shifting between the audience and her so as not to be caught up in the magic she is creating.
I spot our parents, and the look on all their faces is hard to decipher. Did we do something wrong?
As the song ends and Cora comes back from the world she was creating, the auditorium erupts into a loud applause. I make my way up to Cora in the middle of the stage and take her hand just before we bow. I glance over at her as she gracefully rises from her curtsy, a smile beaming across her face. I lean in closer to her and whisper in her ear, “Looks like you’re gonna have a bunch of new friends very soon, Buttercup.”
She squeezes my hand and tugs my arm down before whispering back, “But only one best friend.”
My smile matches hers until I once again find our parents; their looks are now unmistakable. A mixture of joy and worry. I thought they would be happy. Why aren’t they happy?
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I don’t like it.”
“Robert, this was your idea.”
“Yea, if I remember correctly, you were the one that insisted on keeping them together.” An exaggerated eye roll expresses my irritation.
“And Presley said no meddling.”
“No one meddled. I promise I stayed out of it.”
It’s bad enough that my wife, of all people is using my own words against me, but now Trey and Liv have sided with her, or maybe sided with Jax, I don’t know what to think right now, but standing in the driveway arguing is not how I envisioned this night ending. But then again, I hadn’t planned on seeing complete devotion from Jackson either.
I begin walking away from the three of them, followin
g behind Jax and Cora as he walks her home, but I can't seem to grasp this new reality. Making an about-face, I yell at the three people who seem completely fine with letting this play out as it may.
“He fucking loves her! Am I the only one that’s clued into that fact? She’s in first grade!”
“Robert,” Presley is hesitant to address me, “you know what the doctor said about your blood pressure right now.” She doesn’t even look at me but keeps her head down in a submissive way.
“Fuck him too! I’ve lost the one thing that makes me feel complete, and now their son is in love with our daughter!”
The pain in Presley’s eyes is evident the second the words leave my mouth, but I can't seem to stop them from spewing from my lips. It’s a look I’ve only seen once before, and her actions are the same.
Crossing in front of me, she doesn’t even spare a parting glance. No words, just silence, just like before.
A hard smack to the back of my head is Liv’s signature calling card.
“Smooth move there, dipshit. Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time you took your anger out on her?
“And don’t forget who got you to where you are today, me and that blessed saint of a wife you have in there.
“Baseball is not your life, you fucker! Presley and those kids are your life. If you’re lucky enough, they will be the ones around long after your career has ended.” That comment hits a little too close for comfort at the present moment for my liking.
“And about our son, he has always loved Cora, so let’s not pretend this is something new, shall we? We agreed we wouldn’t allow them to date until after Cora turns twenty, and Trey and I still agree to that. They’re kids, Robert. They’re gonna have crushes, and Jax knows he’s not allowed to have a girlfriend until his junior year in high school so don’t get your panties in a knot.”
A surprised look must have given away my shock at Liv’s expression as Trey speaks between gritted teeth, “Just wait man. Little girls are already calling Liv’s phone to talk to Jackson. Even at a young age, the boy’s got little groupies after him.”
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