9th Grade, High School
Age: 14-15
January 2007
…
The warning bell rings.
Spinelli glances down the stairwell, hearing the hallways begin to fill with life again. She leans her head against the wall. The east stairwell continues past the third floor, the final floor of classrooms, to a fourth floor landing. It's small, with only a door to the roof that is perpetually locked, and so untraveled that the floors are darker in color than the rest of the halls and cobwebs decorate the ceiling. No one comes up here from the looks of it, which makes it a much better hiding spot than any of the girls' bathrooms, where anyone could just walk in unannounced.
She wipes her cheeks with the base of her hands, sucking snot back in her nose as she does it. The voices beginning to fill the third floor hallway beneath her grow stronger as more and more students traipse toward their final class of the day. She has to go back down there eventually and maybe it's better that she slips into the crowd. Maybe she would go unnoticed.
She throws her head in her hands and lets out a deep breath. What has she done?
The one thing she had told herself she would never do was act first. With TJ so hot and cold, it wasn't a good idea for her to put herself on the line. In the best case scenario, things became magically perfect, which she knows is entirely unlikely. In the worst case scenario, TJ was just being TJ – friendly, flirty TJ who had misread all of her hints about her feelings and didn't actually share them with her. Worse case was that she tells him she likes him, that she has liked him for years, and he gets spooked. Or worse, he and Vince never let her live it down, throwing it in her face that tough girl Spinelli let a boy get to her.
No, she had decided that she could wait for TJ to make a move. But, instead, she was an idiot. No, it was even worse than that. She lost control. And now she has to live with the consequences of that, the first of which is to walk to class clearly looking like she has been crying. Which she has. Over a boy.
She shakes her head. She really has lost control.
She stands up and adjusts her bag on her shoulders. This is the first time that she has ever felt like this. Her entire life has been well orchestrated to portray the image she desperately desired everyone to see. Heck, even her best friends didn't know her name was Ashley until that weasel Randall ratted her out. That took a lot of work on her part, going to her new teachers ahead of time on the first day of school, sometimes nearly begging them not to use her first name. She kept her parents and her friends in two totally different spheres of her life, despite the fact that TJ lives a couple of doors down. She even convinced her teachers not to praise her for her work, not wanting her friends to realize how well she did in school. She was no Gretchen, sure, but she wasn't entirely stupid. She knew the earth spun around the sun. She could write her way around a book report.
And now she has gone and ruined everything. It'll get out sooner or later that she kissed TJ, who didn't kiss her back, and that she ran off and cried about it. She'll just be poor heartbroken Ashley Spinelli, former tough kid, current cry baby.
She looks down at TJ's sweatshirt, which has become her outfit of choice lately. She might as well retire her leather jacket. She doesn't deserve that anymore.
She slips into the crowd of students, head down, as she walks toward her classroom. Maybe no one will notice how blotchy and red she knows her face has to be. If she keeps her head down in class, pretending to be focused on taking notes, maybe just maybe she can get through the class without a hitch.
She stops dead in the hallway, suddenly remembering the two major flaws in her plan: Gus and Gretchen. There is no way both of them don't notice. She was gone all lunch and so was TJ. If it was just Gus she might have been able to get away with some random excuse about a headache or the blister on her foot popping or something. Gretchen is too smart and right now Spinelli really doesn't want to get into it. She doesn't want to have to explain. She wants to lick her wounds and get over it before she explains what happened to Gretchen.
But how on earth do you outsmart Gretchen Grundler?
She turns around and hurries down the hallway back to the stairwell, weaving around students down two flights of stairs to the first floor. Near the front entrance is the main office, the principal's and vice principal's offices and the school nurse. She walks over to the door and knocks on the doorway.
She hasn't actually visited the school nurse in years, not since Nurse Kay at Third Street. This nurse is shorter, rounder, and grayer than Nurse Kay, but still a nurse and still someone who can help her out of this mess.
"Can I help you?"
The bell rings, signaling the beginning of class period. Perfect.
"Um, yeah, I think I might have irritated a blister in gym and Coach Hardwick wanted me to come by to get it checked out," she lies.
It's a white lie. She doesn't have gym this semester, but once the nurse sees the blood blister she developed after ballet yesterday, the woman won't know the difference.
The nurse sighs and gestures to the small exam table. Spinelli jumps up and reaches for her boot, pulling it off and then her sock. The blister is on the side of her foot, about an inch long and dark in color. Gretchen had told her not to pop it, something about infection, when Spinelli had called her for advice last night and had also instructed her to put some moleskin around it. She has never been more thankful that she didn't follow Gretchen's advice because the skin around her blister is a little irritated from rubbing against her boot.
The nurse helps her clean it and wrap it up, telling her to avoid friction to the area, and then sends her off to class with a note. A note worth its weight in gold.
She heads back up the stairs to her classroom and passes the nurse's note to the teacher when she walks in, all the eyes in the class directly on her. But she has a note, so everyone will just think the blotchy face is from whatever sent her to the nurse. She adds a little bit of a hobble to her step as she walks to her seat, taking the spot between Gus and Gretchen at one of the long tables in the middle.
"What happened?" Gus immediately whispers.
"I popped my blood blister," she says. "Had to go to the nurse and get it cleaned out and then get clean socks from my locker because they were all bloody. Who would have thought the little sucker could be so painful?"
"Did you not wrap it up like I told you?" Gretchen asks.
She shrugs sheepishly. "I didn't have any moleskin and what did you expect me to do? Run to Kelso's on a bum foot?"
"Spinelli!" The three look up to see their teacher with her arms crossed. "I know you just got here, but class has already started."
"Sorry, Ms. Burns."
Then she turns to Gretchen and presses a finger to her lips. Gretchen shakes her head but then turns to the front. Gus has already faced forward as well, hating getting in trouble in class. Spinelli lets out a quiet breath. She's still got it. Maybe she can still salvage some of her reputation after all.
…
Vince bounces the basketball on the sidewalk as he walks toward Third Street's playground. His practice today had been draining, both physically and mentally, as he struggled to keep his mind focused. He missed quite a few shots that he knew he should have made during their scrimmage at the end. The rest of the team most likely figured he was having an off day and no one said anything about it to his face, but his performance frustrated him.
He glances into Kelso's as he passes, seeing the tables full of kids from the neighborhood. All of them laughing and conversing easily at the booths while doing homework or at least pretending to do homework. He sighs.
This may be the first time in his life that he isn't excited for the conversation he is about to have with TJ. His gut bubbles and he almost feels like he might be sick. Of course he is jealous. Spinelli has no place being vice president of the class. The only reason why TJ picked her was because he likes her, there is no other reason why given that Vince is more qualified. And, honestly, even that would have been fine with him if TJ had just told him that. It really isn't that difficult. A quick hey, Vince, I'm picking Spin because I want to spend more time with her. Easy.
Sure, Vince still would have balked because that shouldn't be a reason to pick a VP but at least it would have been the truth. At least it wouldn't have been another one of the endless lies that TJ has spewed since…since when did TJ start keeping him in the dark? Sometime last year? Or was it before that? Now he feels like he doesn't even know TJ anymore.
He lets out a huffed breath and slams his ball roughly. It catapults off a raised brick and veers, making Vince reach to grab it before it bounces into the road. He stops and breathes through his nose. At least he'll have some time alone before TJ comes to Third Street. He knows that Spinelli's track practice gets out before his basketball practice does, but her ballet gets out typically around the time he is just finishing his free throws. He should have plenty of time to calm down. He wants this to be a civil conversation and not just a screaming match between them.
He keeps dribbling his ball as he turns down Third Street toward the school. He can hear the screams of the kids still playing long after school has let out for the day. They used to do that when they were younger. If a game of kickball was tied at the end of recess, the whole class would stay behind to continue playing until a winner prevailed. Nothing mattered more than playing with your friends.
He shakes his head as he opens the gate into the schoolyard. That's obviously not the case anymore.
As he nears the basketball court he stops dribbling, holding the ball in his hands as he takes in the scene ahead of him. The far court is empty, just as it always is, the neighborhood silently agreeing to leave it empty for him. Someone, however, sits on the top of the cheesebox, the play structure closest to the basketball court. TJ swings his legs through one of the holes, his head downcast toward his lap. His backpack lay haphazardly on the ground, his red cap stuffed into one of the side pockets. His bike is leaning up against the side of the cheesebox.
So much for having alone time.
Vince walks across the asphalt, basketball tucked under his arm and comes to a stop in front of the cheesebox. TJ keeps kicking his legs, head down, in his own little world and completely oblivious to Vince's presence.
He clears his throat and TJ's head jerks up. Vince feels a fleeting pull of his gut as TJ's lips stay slanted downward. TJ looks down at him from the cheesebox with an empty stare and Vince sighs at the unusual expression. TJ's eyes typically glitter with mischief and a boyish charm that has gotten him out of trouble since they were in kindergarten. Glum on TJ looks out of place.
Vince wasn't expecting him though and he ignores TJ's expression to quickly run through his timeline in his head. He saw Spinelli in the hallway where the girls track team was practicing hurdles on his way to his basketball practice. She was sitting on the floor with Meghan Rigalli, probably waiting for their turn to run. There is no way that she made it out of that practice and finished with ballet by now. So either she bailed on ballet – which is highly unlikely – or TJ is going to bail on him to rush to Spinelli. The latter is his guess, although he hopes it's the former.
"You're here early," Vince says. "Ballet get canceled?"
His tone becomes more of a hiss as each word leaves his mouth.
TJ runs a hand through his hair and then shrugs. He grasps onto the side of the cheesebox and he leans forward. The action folds his shoulders in, making him appear smaller.
"I, uh, didn't want to miss you here," TJ tells him. He sounds more like Gus than himself, his voice quiet, almost stuttering through the words. "I…I told Spin I would be here instead. With you."
Vince's stomach tightens. "Really?"
TJ nods.
"But, I don't want to mess up your routine," he adds, nodding his head toward the hoop. "I can wait for you to finish."
Vince nods his head, his mind cloudy, as he moves toward the hoop. He hadn't expected TJ to be here already. He really hadn't expected TJ to skip out on Spinelli to meet him here, especially early enough to have to sit through all one hundred of Vince's free throws. In all honesty, Vince can't remember the last time that TJ put something Vince wanted before something Spinelli wanted. It was before the Ashleys' party last year at the very least and that feels like a century ago.
Vince sinks five of seven free throws, jogging over to get the ball each time it releases from his hand. As he goes to get shot number seven, he glances back over to the cheesebox, expecting to see TJ's nose buried in his phone or a comic, but TJ just sits on the cheesebox watching Vince. On shot number eight, which Vince misses, he sees TJ's eyes follow the path of the ball as it bounces off the rim and sideways, rolling toward the school building.
He turns to look at TJ and shakes his head. TJ came to him. TJ put him first.
"Okay, let's talk."
TJ frowns. "You sure? I can wait."
Vince shakes his head and walks toward the cheesebox, climbing up to sit next to TJ. He hasn't been on the cheesebox since probably fourth grade and he nearly falls through one of the holes as he sits down. Once he catches his balance, he straightens his back and nods his head.
"Nah, let's talk now."
"Vince, I'm so sorry, man," TJ says. "I…I wish I could say I didn't know what I was thinking but…"
TJ blows out a breath and looks away briefly. When he turns back, his eyes dart from Vince to his own hands, which squeeze the cheesebox so tightly his knuckles turn white.
"You're right. I lied." His shoulders rise and his neck nearly disappears as he curls his body uncomfortably. "I lied to you. I lied to Spin. I thought that if I didn't admit it, I wouldn't have to deal with it or any of the consequences that came from it. But I was wrong."
He relaxes his shoulders and turns back toward the basketball court. Some kid screams in the distance, but TJ keeps his head forward, his eyes staring at the wall. Vince follows his stare, looking at the infamous wall where they all spent at least a few of their recesses, head pressed against the bricks of the school until Ms. Finster determined they had earned their recess back for whatever trouble they had caused.
"I know that my apology right now is just words and that I'm going to have to rebuild the trust that I broke with you, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes to do that," TJ says. He turns away from the wall to look Vince in the eye. "You're my best friend, Vince, and I've been an idiot. Plain and simple. And I'm sorry that my bad choices hurt you."
Vince's chest tightens and he glances out, back toward the schoolyard. Back when they were ten, TJ's best friend fiasco had caused Vince to feel anger more than hurt. He took up his spot with King Bob, an action that was more petty than anything else, and as soon as TJ read his paper aloud in class the following day, all of it faded away. But TJ's words don't act like a magic bandage this time. His stomach still bubbles uncomfortably and his heart races.
In fourth grade, everything went back to normal. They all had their equitable positions in their big group. That won't be the case this time. Things will change and Vince isn't sure he is ready for that change to happen.
But, ready or not, change is coming.
He sighs and turns back to TJ, who has his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Vince reminds himself that TJ came to him. TJ just uttered the words he has vowed never to say to one person. You're my best friend. And, on top of all of that, TJ just told him the other thing he hasn't told anyone else, despite the fact that the whole school has all but made bets on when TJ and Spinelli would get their acts together.
When Vince was ten, he would have done anything to have TJ say he was his best friend. When he was ten, he never would have imagined the day that he and TJ kept any secrets from each other. But, despite everything, Vince doesn't want to lose his best friend. Change is coming and despite the hurt he feels in this moment, he thinks he and TJ can overcome this if TJ holds up his end of the bargain.
"Thanks," Vince says, forcing a smile to his face. He hopes it looks better than it feels. "I appreciate the honesty."
"No more lies," TJ says, bowing his head slightly. "I swear."
Vince nods, but rather than take it at face value, he decides to test it.
"So, Spin, huh?" He shrugs and hopes his next joke flies. "I mean, she's no Ashley A."
He watches TJ's eyes carefully, which glare for a split second before they widen and he throws his head back with a groan. Then he knocks Vince in the arm with a light punch.
"I thought we decided that was never to be spoken about again," TJ whines. "It wasn't even a week in fifth grade!"
Vince jumps down off the cheesebox, raising his arms in the air. "I'm kidding!"
TJ jumps down next to him. "Good, that gets zipped up tight."
The basketball is still leaning up against the school. Vince walks backwards as he continues to tease TJ.
"Oh, you don't want Spin to know about your unfortunate little crush?" he jokes. "It's not like she didn't have crushes on other kids. Remember Johnny V?"
TJ makes a face.
"That kid had a major glow down. Peaked in elementary school," Vince continues, glancing over his shoulder to see where he's going. Once he reaches the ball, he picks it up and holds it under his arm as he walks back. "You don't have anything to worry about there in terms of competition."
"That's not very nice," TJ laughs.
Vince shrugs.
"Hey, it's not like I'm wrong," he says. He bounces the ball toward TJ, who catches it easily. "What do you say to a game of HORSE? I'll even give you the H for free."
TJ smiles. "Sure, but you can keep that H."
"Suit yourself," he replies. "But don't say I didn't try to help you."
Once Vince wins HORSE, they start one-on-one. Vince has the advantage of height and experience on his side, but he goes easy on TJ. The game isn't nearly as lopsided as it could be. Despite the chill of the late January air, both boys have shed their outer layers by the time they call it, their t-shirts damp with sweat. At the end of the game, they're both grinning from ear to ear, laughing about sloppy shots and fouls that definitely would have been called in a real game. Vince can even see a couple of boys still left on the playground, probably second graders by the looks of it, watching them behave like mad men from a safe distance. It reminds him of himself and TJ not so long ago, watching the older boys during the high school football games and wanting so desperately to be in their places.
TJ tosses the ball back toward Vince. "I think you still have a hundred shots to throw."
"Yeah," he agrees. He has ninety-five left. "I guess I should start that now. My mom'll kill me if I'm not home for dinner."
TJ picks up his backpack and swings it over his shoulder.
"You'll get them quick once I leave," he says, probably trying to encourage him. He grabs his bike and then shrugs. "If you need an out, just tell your mom you're working on a project at my house and I'll feed you leftovers."
Vince laughs. They've done that more than a few times in the past. "Will do."
TJ hops on his bike and waves as he heads out. Vince watches TJ speed through the gate and around the corner before he turns back to the hoop, taking his place at the free throw line. The shots do go fairly quickly when he's not distracted and he tries to hurry as it gets darker and darker outside, chasing the rebounds at breakneck speed.
He has just banked shot 99 when Gretchen walks out of the side door of the school. He waves at her and she waves back as she approaches him.
"What are you doing at Third Street?" he asks, dribbling the ball casually.
"The science fair is this weekend. I just finished speaking with Principal Prickly about the judging rubrics," she says. She points toward the window. "I saw you were still here out the window and thought I would come check to see how you are doing after today."
Vince bites his bottom lip. He did make quite a scene at lunch when the Ashleys strode over to their table to inquire about working together to get TJ and Spinelli elected. It became obvious to the Ashleys very quickly that Vince had not known that his name was not going to be on the ballot and, while Ashley Q and Ashley B seemed to enjoy the drama ensuing, Ashley A led the four away. Vince is glad she did that, even if she didn't do it for his benefit.
"I'm okay," he says. "I will be okay at least."
Gretchen nods, but doesn't respond. Vince fills the silence.
"TJ actually came by. It's why I'm still here. We talked and I think it's going to be okay," he says.
"Yes, I did see TJ and you two seemed to be enjoying yourselves, so I took that as a good sign," she tells him.
"It's gonna be weird though." Vince shakes his head. "Teej and Spin together. Weird to think about, right?"
Gretchen shrugs. "I think we've all realized it was coming, but I'm sure it will be different in reality." She shakes her head. "I think it will actually do Spinelli some good for things to come out in the open. She walked into class this afternoon in tears, blaming it on a blister."
Vince raises an eyebrow. "What? A blister made her cry? What kind of story is that?"
Gretchen raises her hands in question. "She clearly didn't want anyone to know but I'm sure it has to do with TJ and he is probably none the wiser." She shrugs again. "But, hopefully now that he has talked to you and opened up, it means he'll do the same with her because she is not going to be the first one to say anything. She has told me as much."
Vince scuffs the toe of his shoe in the asphalt. He hadn't really thought too much about Spinelli in all of this mess, but if TJ's actions hurt him as much as they did, he can only imagine what is going through her head if he was just as ambiguous with her as he was with Vince.
He shakes his head.
"They need to get their shit together." Then he looks at Gretchen, a thought dawning in his head. "And when they do, we are going to be dual third wheels. You realize that, right?"
Gretchen nods her head.
"So, we should make a pact."
He nearly laughs as Gretchen's face contorts, head cocked to the side, one eyebrow raised at his suggestion. When he doesn't elaborate, the confusion quickly subsides and she crosses her arms.
"What will this pact entail?"
He thinks for a moment.
"Not much more than we already do," he concedes. "We just, you know, have each other's back. We can rant when we need to, hang out, you know, stuff we'd normally do with Teej and Spin." He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. "I mean, we both need someone, right? Mikey and Gus are close. Teej and Spin are whatever, you know, and it's leaving us in the lurch."
"So, what you're saying is that we'll settle for each other?"
"No!" he exclaims. The last thing he wants is to make Gretchen feel bad. "No, I didn't mean it like that at all. I just – ugh, sorry."
He sighs and shakes his head, looking down at the ground as he starts talking again.
"It's just...I think it's safe to say that our group was never a group the way we tried to pretend it was. Which, I think, is normal. We all didn't like everyone the same. We all had best friends, even if TJ likes to pretend that he liked everyone the same," he says. "All I'm saying is that what we're used to is getting ready to change and it might be nice to have someone who knows what you're going through."
Gretchen thinks about it and he can nearly see the gears turning in her head. She always gives thoughtful responses and so even if she sees through his proposition and realizes he is partly trying to save himself from being ostracized in the event he and TJ never get back what they had, she'll let him down gently.
"That's actually really insightful, Vince."
Well, look at that. Maybe he and Gretchen are more alike than he thought.
"Well, I'm not in the AP track for nothing," he jokes.
She giggles. "I suppose you're right."
"Want to walk home together?" he asks. He holds up the basketball. "I've got one more shot to make before I leave."
She gestures for him to shoot and he does, turning around and sinking his last shot. He runs after the rebound and grabs his backpack before joining her to walk out of the schoolyard. As they're walking through the gate, Gretchen turns to him.
"You know, Vince," she says. "With Greta gone, salutatorian is pretty much up for grabs."
Vince snorts. "Okay, sure, Gretch. I think you've spent too much time out in the cold. I'm not that smart."
"I've seen your work and your grades and I think you could do well," she insists.
He shakes his head. He works hard because his parents want him to do well. They expect him to try his hardest in school, recognizing that he isn't Chad but still holding high expectations. He has to work hard or else no basketball, no football, no baseball. His father, for one, is insistent.
You cannot count on basketball, Vincent.
"School was always Chad's thing," he tells her.
"Why can't it be yours as well?"
Because that is not how it works. Gretchen doesn't have an older sibling, or any siblings for that matter, so she doesn't know what it feels like to walk into class and have the teachers expect so much when they see his last name. But, since he has made a name for himself with his athletic abilities, the teachers already know his name for something else. Sure, Gretchen is right, he still does well, but it takes a little bit of the pressure off. If he doesn't try to be smart like Chad, then he can't fail at it.
"You just want another smart buddy in the group. Admit it, Gretch. You just want someone to talk smart to," he jokes, trying to distract her.
It works. Gretchen then starts to backtrack, talking about each of the others in their friend group with flying colors, not wanting to seem like she was making fun of their intelligence. He feels a little bad about making Gretchen feel like she had to explain herself, but at least it got her off the topic of him and his grades.
…
She listens to the voicemail again.
"Hey, Spin. I'm guessing you're at practice already and that's why you aren't picking up, but I would really like to talk to you about what happened today and, I suppose, what's been happening. I've made a lot of really terrible decisions lately and that's on me. But I don't want to get into it on the phone, on a voicemail especially, so please let me know when you're free. Oh, and you were right today. I messed things up with Vince really badly, so I'm going to meet up with him after his practice, so I may not be out in time to meet you after ballet, but I really want to talk to you and not in a rush, so that's why I'm hoping we can do it after ballet and not while you're running from practice to the studio. Now, I'm rambling, great, uh, so just let me know when you're ready to talk. You pick when and where and I'll be there. Promise."
The thought of responding makes her want to throw up. She should have known that TJ wouldn't let her ignore it forever but she had hoped he would let her sleep it off. Instead, it sounds like he wants to talk to her tonight and maybe that's what she should do. Just rip the Band-Aid off.
Meghan Rigalli collapses on the ground next to her and Spinelli stuffs her phone into the pocket of her shorts.
"Tsk tsk, no phones at practice."
Spinelli rolls her eyes. "I'm not practicing today. Coach already knows. I have a bum foot."
Kind of. Her foot is fine, her blister wrapped carefully by the school nurse, but she figured she might as well give her feet a break if she could. Their coach didn't mind. The track team isn't the most serious of sports teams in the school, especially not for freshmen. She would rather sit in her self-pity and rest her feet for ballet.
Meghan nods slowly.
"Are you okay?" she asks. "You just look sort of down."
Spinelli grinds her teeth together and tries to harden her face. She needs to be better about keeping her emotions to herself or else everyone is going to figure out what happened.
"I have a lot on my mind." Then, to throw the other girl off her scent, she adds, "TJ and I are running for class president and vice president and I guess I'm a little nervous we're gonna lose."
She is a little nervous that he is going to change his mind and run with Vince after he lets her down gently about their kiss. But is it even a kiss if the other person doesn't kiss back?
Meghan scoffs. "Oh, come on, TJ winning class president isn't exactly a longshot."
"Exactly. If we lose, it's all on me."
The other girl rolls her eyes, then she raises her eyebrows. "Ooh, is that what was going on at your lunch table this afternoon? Vince seemed pissed about something."
She leans her head back against the cinderblock wall. TJ's message makes a lot of sense now. Of course he has to talk to Vince. She had warned him as much that Vince would be hurt by TJ's decision. Vince has always been TJ's right hand man and probably assumed, like she had, that he would be the obvious choice.
What a freaking mess.
"Yeah, probably," she mumbles.
Meghan nudges her shoulder. "Hey, everything is gonna work out. It's not like you'll bring TJ down or anything and I'm sure there will be a cabinet position for Vince somewhere."
One of their teammates calls Meghan to the hurdles and after a brief goodbye she is back to practice. Spinelli pulls out her phone again. She knows the right thing to do is to text TJ a quick reply, but as she opens her texts her heart rate accelerates. She takes a deep breath. What she would really like is to go to sleep and wake up as if none of this has happened. A nice Groundhogs Day situation would be perfect. She wouldn't kiss TJ. She would convince him to go to the lunch table instead of going outside and he can get to Vince before he finds out about the situation from someone else. Bingo. Perfect. Everyone is happy.
But, that's not going to happen. She can't go back in time, just forward, and she knows how TJ handles these kinds of messes. She knows he'll be hellbent on talking through what happened, so everyone is clear and on the same page once and for all. If she makes it through the rest of the day without getting her heart broken, it'll just happen tomorrow or the next day. She is just delaying the inevitable.
She types in: After dinner?
Then she shuts her phone and stuffs it back in her pocket, this time afraid to see the response.
This is a new low. Since when has she been this scared of anyone? But especially TJ? She shouldn't be scared. If TJ doesn't return her feelings, so be it. He'll be nice about it. She'll learn to deal with it. Yes, it may be extremely awkward for a little while, but eventually it'll just become a joke between them. Right?
When practice ends, she leaves as the other girls head to the locker room to change. She grabs her bike and races over to the ballet studio, changing into her leotard when she arrives. Her foot is still bandaged nicely and, although a little snug in her pointe shoe, is workable.
Ballet allows her to get her mind off of TJ. As the music plays, she closes off the rest of the world. While she dances and while she draws are really the only two times where she can truly let go. Dancing allows her body to relax and drawing allows her an outlet, pouring onto the page everything she feels like she can't say.
"Alright, ladies," Mademoiselle Pavlova says, clapping her hands at the end of their class. "Beautiful work. I have listed the parts for the spring recital in the locker room. If you did not get the part you wanted, it is just encouragement to work harder next time."
She lets them break and everyone in the room races to the sheet. Spinelli holds back, letting the other girls beat her to the paper. It may actually destroy her not to get the solo she wanted so badly. First TJ, then this? Could the day possibly get any worse?
The Megans stand at the sheet, blocking it when she approaches. Megan King, the head Megan, turns and they meet each other's eyes. She scowls and glares at Spinelli, nose flaring.
"Like, I don't get it," Megan Prince whines, crossing her arms. "She, like, totally doesn't even have the right body shape to be a ballerina."
Megan King crosses her arms as well, keeping her eyes at Spinelli. "Some people just get by with handouts they don't deserve," she sneers. Then she tilts her head back, nose in the air, as she pushes past. The other three Megans follow behind her, each of them jostling Spinelli as they walk out.
"Teacher's pet," Megan Cavanaugh hisses.
Megan Stepanian just glares.
With the four gone, Spinelli steps up and scans the list for her name. She sees the Megans have all been clustered in one performance. When she sees her name listed in the solo spot, her heart skips a beat. She really hadn't thought she would get it. She had wanted it so badly and worked so hard for it. It feels good to see her hard work has paid off.
She immediately wants to tell TJ and that single thought brings her back to her current reality. She can't just call TJ. TJ is not waiting for her outside. Instead, she is going to have to traverse the limbo they're in.
The short lived happiness of seeing her name on the list is long gone.
She changes out of her pointe shoes and back into her boots, her track shoes tied to the handle of her backpack by the laces. She keeps on her leotard, tights, and wrap skirt, but pauses briefly when it comes to her outerwear, specifically TJ's sweatshirt. It's late January and she runs naturally cold. Even in this warmer than usual weather, she'd be stupid not to put on all the layers she brought to school this morning. She shakes her head and puts it on, the bottom band of the sweatshirt nearly covering the hem of her skirt.
Mademoiselle Pavlova has already begun with the younger kids and Spinelli sneaks out undetected without having to stop and chat. She unhooks her bike from the rack and then pulls out her phone to see if TJ has texted her back.
He has. Sounds great! Text me when you're ready
She shakes her head as she reads it. It doesn't sound great to her at this moment.
She hasn't actually rode her bike home in months. TJ almost always meets her and they almost always walk. Although she makes it back to their neighborhood in a fraction of their usual time, it feels weird. She slows down as she passes Third Street's playground. She can see TJ and Vince playing one-on-one. Her gut bubbles unpleasantly at the sight. She wonders if they're talking about her, if after TJ made amends with Vince he had let loose on their friend about what she had done this afternoon. She wonders if Vince will tease her about it tomorrow.
She can only hope that TJ kept it to himself to save her the misery. It can be their little secret. He can let her down gently and they can forget about it and once she thinks it's hilarious that she ever had a crush on TJ – many many years from now – they can let Vince in on the joke.
What a mess she made. Maybe it really is better if she just rips off the Band-Aid rather than suffer through dinner waiting for the inevitable. She pulls out her phone.
Actually wait let's talk when you're done with Vince
Then she stuffs it back in her pocket and continues on her bike. She pulls into the Detweilers' yard instead of her own and drops her bike at the base of the treehouse. Once she's up there, she sends a message to her mother to let her know she'll be late – she is "working on a school project" with Meghan – and wanders around. Then she sends another to TJ.
I'm in your treehouse
She can't remember the last time that she has been up here, but it hasn't changed since they were kids. There's still a bin full of their old toys and one of Becky's diaries sits on a shelf. She picks up the pink and purple journal, thumbing through some of the pages, realizing it was the one they stole the summer after fifth grade. She used to really enjoy reading the diaries, the dramatic prose was comedy to her as a young kid – the line about the "deep fat fryer fading into the night" while Becky and Jimmy shared their first kiss still kills her when she thinks about it.
The language in this diary is just as ridiculous as she remembers and she ends up getting sucked in. Becky is currently contemplating the implications of Jimmy's senior prom and graduation on their relationship when Spinelli hears shuffling. She snaps her head up as TJ climbs through the entry.
He stands and his eyes immediately go to the diary.
"Oh man, I didn't even realize that was still up here," he says. Then he smirks. "And I can't believe you're actually reading it."
"Well, next time you see Becky, tell her she's got a bestseller on her hands," she deadpans.
TJ laughs. "Bestseller might be generous."
Spinelli shuts the book and sets it on the floor beside her as silence takes over. Awkward is not a word she would ever use to describe herself and TJ before this moment. But TJ stands in front of her, rubbing his hands together like he is trying to figure out what to say, and she just sits in her spot, staring at him.
"I–" They both start at the same time and both immediately shut their mouths.
She looks down at the ground, waving her hand as if to hurry him along, gesturing for him to go first.
"Just get it over with," she mumbles. "I promise I won't act all weird when you reject me."
He sighs loudly and she feels the floorboards quiver under his gait. He sits down next to her, in the same exact position, the knees of their crossed legs only centimeters apart.
"Spin, will you look at me?"
Her stomach flops uncomfortably as she picks at her nails. She doesn't want to look at him, afraid of how her body might betray her if she does. Her throat feels tight and the last thing she wants to do is cry again today. So, she doesn't look, and instead keeps picking at her nail polish, chipping away at it to focus her mind on anything except how hard it is to breathe at the moment.
TJ sighs again.
"Okay, well," TJ says. "I, um…I–"
"Just spit it out, TJ," she grumbles, frustrated by his sudden lack of words.
"I like you," he says quickly. "And I'm sorry that I hurt you."
She lifts her head to look at him so fast she nearly feels whiplash. Did she really hear that right?
"What?"
He shakes his head. "That didn't come out the way I wanted it to," he mutters.
With his voice at full volume, he begins again.
"Spin, I like you and I have for a while now." He shrugs and gives her a sheepish grin. "I just got scared by how deeply I felt these feelings that I have for you. And even though I had my suspicions that maybe the feelings were mutual, I was afraid of how it would change everything between us, between the whole group too, and so I just ignored it. But I realize that my actions are not in a vacuum and today when you ran out I realized just how badly I handled things on my end. I should have been honest with you. My actions, or really my inaction, these last few months have been unacceptable to say the least. And I am so sorry that I hurt you. It was not my intention and I understand if that changes anything for you."
Of all the things she expected TJ to say, that speech wasn't it. She can feel her lips frowning, but she can't manage to upturn them. After all this time and all the questioning, she fully expected to hear that she was living in her own head and she was reading into TJ's actions with her own biases. She had convinced herself that her feelings weren't returned and to hear in his own voice that they are is jarring and hard to believe.
"But you didn't kiss me back," she says softly.
TJ blushes, the pink hue illuminated by the soft flickering string lights hung around the treehouse.
"I wasn't expecting it," he says, almost sounding like he's guessing and doesn't have a true answer. "I did call after you, but you were already gone."
She'll give him that – she did run like a bat out of hell immediately after and she does remember him calling her name in her rush to leave.
She sighs and looks back down at her fingers, where she has picked nearly all the polish off her thumbnail. This situation isn't all on TJ, even though he would take all the credit for it. It wasn't like she brought it up aside from sneaky tricks until what happened at lunch.
"Teej, thanks for the apology, but it's on me too," she says, looking up to meet his eye. "I could have said something."
"It's hard to put yourself out there," he says. "Especially when you're afraid of ruining something that's already good."
"If it ain't broke, don't fix it."
TJ gives her his trademark boyish grin and her stomach does a flip.
"Well, there is one thing that I'd like to fix," TJ says. "I'd like to stop playing games."
She nods, her gut still doing somersaults. "Me too."
"So, no more games," TJ says slowly. He reaches for her hand, the first time they've touched since they acknowledged their feelings, and they both share a little smile. "Let's be clear about our intentions."
She snorts at his choice of words. "Intentions? Who are you, an Austen character?"
He chuckles and plays up the gag. "Yes, our intentions, Miss Spinelli. I believe we should discuss how we should proceed with this courtship."
She knocks his shoulder with hers. "Stop," she whines.
He squeezes her hand.
"Okay, I'll be serious now." His eyes sparkle under the flickering lights. "So, we both like each other. I would like to go out with you. Would you like to go out with me?"
It seems so formal to ask the question, but she appreciates that they're being clear after so many months of confusion.
"I would."
His smile stretches from ear to ear. She can feel the muscles in her cheeks working to match his expression. They're both jittery with the newness of their situation, but neither make any moves to do anything more than what they're doing now.
"Now what?" she asks.
TJ shrugs. "I dunno. Any ideas?"
She wants to kiss him, but isn't sure how best to broach the topic. This morning she just went in for it, but this would officially be their first kiss and that seems…not right. Her eyes glance down at Becky's diary and with her free hand, she reaches down, grabbing it and waving it in his direction.
"We could kiss as the sounds of the deep fat fryer fade into the night," she quotes jokingly, chuckling as she finishes.
He makes a face, wrinkling his face and sticking out his tongue. "Oh, that's so gross."
"I'm sure there are better date ideas in here," she says.
She sets the book on her lap so she can open it up, but TJ knocks it away. She looks up to see him inching closer to her, his mouth slightly open and his eyes staring at her lips.
"I have my own ideas."
He pauses, giving her the chance to pull away if she wants, and then leans all the way in. When they kissed for the experiment in fourth grade, it was very puckered, the type of kiss a friendly grandmother would give her grandchild during a celebration. When they 'kissed' at school, it wasn't even really a kiss. This kiss is what she wants to remember as their first kiss. Her heart beats erratically in her chest as TJ brings the hand not holding hers to her check. Her brain has trouble focusing on all the new sensations and the soft wetness of the kiss.
When he pulls back, she instinctively follows him, her lips tingling with the want for more.
"Third time's a charm, right?" TJ says, his voice all breath.
She smirks. "I think we could use some practice."
"Oh, yeah?"
Time ceases while they kiss. Their lips move in a synchronized dance. Her hands go from his shoulders to his neck to his face as she tries to find her place. When they finally pull apart, her lips are chapped and when she runs her tongue over them, they taste like TJ.
He rests his forehead against hers. Yeah, she could get used to this.
…
Notes:
I've given the Megans last names that somewhat correspond to the Ashleys. I picked King and Prince for the royal hierarchy theme, similar to how Ashleys A and B are seen as first and second in command. Cavanaugh and Quinlan as well as Stepanian and Tomassian have similar origins (Irish and Armenian, respectively).
The line about the "deep fat fryer" comes from Recess: School's Out. Spinelli reads the line from Becky's diary in the movie.