10th Grade, High School
Age: 15-16
March 2008
…
Madame Pavlova calls the girls to a halt, shaking her head with disappointment and sending all but one of the dancers to a break. Spinelli eyes the girl as she heads off the floor. Her classmate has her head down, clearly understanding her continued trouble with the particular sequence is why the whole rehearsal has stopped and that Madame Pavlova calling her out is nothing positive.
They are currently working on one of the hardest dances of their upcoming spring recital. This particular routine involves three dancers moving in complete unison and her classmate is always just a second behind the others. A second matters in dance. The tiny fraction of time throws her out of sync with the other performers, hence Madame Pavlova's frustration.
Spinelli makes her way to the barre on the other side of the room. She grabs it in her hands, going through her part of the performance in her head but not lifting up onto her toes. Her feet are aching, tired from the grueling sessions at the studio and her own at home practice. But it's better to have her feet hurt than to be called out in front of the whole class.
She glances up at the clock on the wall. It's almost time for rehearsal to end, but she doubts they'll let out on time today. Not after this extra break.
"It is just such a tragedy."
She flicks her eyes in the mirror to see the four Megans standing beside her, all with their arms crossed as they stare at Madame Pavlova working with the other girl.
"She is never going to get it."
"Madame should have just picked someone who could do it right in the first place."
The four Megans simultaneously sigh. Spinelli rolls her eyes and shakes her head. The four girls certainly have a high opinion of themselves. It isn't as if they're professional ballerinas. No one in their class is going to go on to dance with the New York City Ballet. Some of them might be able to continue in college, but for the majority, this is just supposed to be fun.
Or, at least, that's how she sees it.
Ballet is her escape. No one from school besides the Megans are in her class, so she doesn't feel like she has to put on any type of show. She can just come, put on her leotard, and let go for a couple of hours. She focuses on her movement and on the music. Nothing else matters. No one is teasing her for being girly or laughing at a glittery outfit she has to don. Then, when the rehearsal is over, she packs up her things and heads back out into the world where her reputation matters.
She sticks to herself mostly. Back when Mikey used to dance, she would sit with him during breaks, but it's been years since she had Mikey around. Now she just stands by the barre, practicing something she messed up or going through choreography in her head. There was never a point to making friends – these girls lived in other towns and she has plenty of friends at school. Instead, she just focuses on making the hours of practice count.
Quiet, steady, and sturdy. Ready to go at a moment's notice. Not wanting to embarrass herself by not knowing her parts. That is how Spinelli conducts herself at ballet and, honestly, it's refreshing. It allows her to breathe.
Because at school she has to pretend like it's the end of the world when she has to leave early from practice. She already looked ahead at the spring sports schedule and she knows she'll have to skip a game to attend her dress rehearsal in April. She probably won't even tell Meghan Rigalli and the rest of her teammates until the day before, afraid of the pushback she'll receive from the other lacrosse girls. Even Vince and Gus still sometimes rib her, making halfhearted jokes about how she still does what was once a punishment to her years ago.
Sometimes it feels like she's two different people and it's starting to feel exhausting.
"Exactly! One of us definitely could have done that role."
"It must be so embarrassing," one of the other Megans adds.
Spinelli grunts and shakes her head. She turns her head toward the four girls and narrows her eyes.
"Would you all just shut up?" she mutters.
The Megans turn their heads in unison toward her.
"What was that, Spin-mumbly?" Megan Prince hisses.
Spinelli blows a breath out of her nose.
"I said, would you all just shut up? No one wants to hear you rag on her."
The Megans step together, forming a wall in front of her. Their eyes glare at her, upset that she is calling them out. Megan King takes a single step forward so she is slightly ahead of the other three girls, but the other three continue to speak from behind her.
"If you don't want to listen, just plug your ears," Megan Cavanaugh sneers.
"Besides, it isn't like anything we've said isn't true," Megan Stepanian adds.
"So, butt out, Spin-nosy," Megan Prince says.
She knows that the Megans aren't worth her time, but as she looks back out at Madame Pavlova and her classmate, she knows the girl doesn't need any more embarrassment. Besides, the girl is currently far away from the rest and can't defend herself. None of their other classmates seem to be willing to do so either, instead listening to the Megans with mild interest or pretending not to pay attention at all.
"Well, maybe Madame Pavlova would have picked one of you for the part if you spent more time practicing and less time tearing everyone down."
"Oh, quit it with the savior of the helpless act," Megan Prince sneers. "You are the most annoying person that I've ever met."
"Is that why I haven't seen TJ around lately?" Megan King asks. Her tone sounds so innocuous it's only because she spent her formative years with the Ashleys that Spinelli can hear the slightest bit of malice and manipulation. "Has he realized that you're not worth it?"
Spinelli flicks her eyes toward Megan King, far and away the queen bee of their group. The Megans differ from the Ashleys in this respect – while Ashley A is the 'leader' all four of the Ashleys can hold their own. Ashley B and Ashley Q are just as witty in their retorts as Ashley A, the three of them equally masterminding their manipulation and scheming. Even quiet Ashley T can hand out a zinger on par with her buddies when she wants to do so. There is definitely more of a hierarchy to the Megans. While the three other Megans love a good taunt, Megan King is the one with the ability to find someone's deepest insecurities and use it to her advantage. She has the last laugh, the other Megans cackling like hyenas around her when she does.
And, for whatever reason, Spinelli has managed to top Megan King's burn book.
"Yeah, your little knight in shining armor hasn't been around to pick you up in weeks," Megan Prince taunts. "No happy endings for this fairytale are there, Princess Moral?"
Spinelli turns back to the mirror, attempting to ignore them. That was always the best way of dealing with the Ashleys growing up. Ignore their taunts and playground bullying and the girls would eventually become bored, deciding to move on to another person or activity all together. She wasn't always the best at ignoring the Ashleys – and she still isn't – but at least it worked. The Megans are relentless and when one starts, the rest parrot endlessly.
The girls are right that TJ hasn't been to walk her home in a while, but it's for good reason. TJ's parents are still furious and although he's been working hard, having finished his six weeks of mandatory tutoring, he is still struggling. He hasn't told the rest of their friends, but when she has been able to sneak into his house at night, he's told her that he's worried he won't be able to pull off the C that he needs for sports. He is already pretty much out for baseball, but if he can't get a C this semester, he'll have to sit out football as well.
She understands the embarrassment. When she has to work with Ashley T in math class she wants to disappear. A few times she has thought about feigning a headache or fake passing out just to get sent to the nurse.
She thought for sure Ashley T would tell the other three and they'd tease her subpar AP math skills, but Ashley T has seemingly stayed quiet about how much teaching she does when they partner together. Ashley T could probably finish their problems in class, another one of those kids that just gets math, but instead she takes the time to help her out the best she can. Between Ashley T and Gus helping her out, she has managed to stay afloat with Bs on her exams and assignments.
But even so, she can't say it isn't embarrassing to not understand something that other people seem to do so easily. It takes her three times as long to do what they can do. She can empathize with TJ on that.
So, yes, TJ has not been by to pick her up from ballet since the start of the semester. Instead, he's been in the library, trying his hardest not to fail again and utilizing the school's peer tutors, and she's been supportive. But none of that is the Megans' business.
"Ooh, did we touch a nerve?" Megan Cavanaugh cackles.
"I mean, I suppose it was bound to happen," she hears one of the girls say.
"Yeah, like TJ gives off, like, boy-next-door vibes and Spinelli is, like..."
"A Wednesday Addams wannabe."
The four girls burst into laughter.
"I know, right? It's like she thinks she's cool wearing those hideous black boots."
"And those childish braids every day."
"Makes her look like a toddler."
"Well, I mean, if she had any shape."
"Honestly, I just don't understand what TJ sees in her."
"She's flexible."
The girls all shriek with their innuendo and Spinelli grinds her teeth. She jerks her head in their direction, watching as they giggle among themselves. The taunting is nothing new and she should be used to it by now.
"I guess all that girly ballet is good for something. Isn't it, Spin-slutty?" Megan Cavanaugh teases.
"No wonder she sticks with it despite telling everyone she hates it," Megan Prince snickers.
The girls giggle again. She clenches the barre in her hand, her knuckles turning white.
Ignore them. Ignore them. Ignore them.
"They probably did it and TJ figured out she's nothing special."
"If he didn't figure that out long before that, maybe he really is stupid."
She turns away from the barre and faces the four girls.
"Would you four quit it," she hisses, her fists clenching.
"Ooh, I'm shaking in my pointe shoes!" Megan Prince squeals.
"Like, you can unclench your fists, Spinelli," Megan Cavanaugh says, using her pointer finger to gesture to Spinelli's hands. "You're totally not scary."
"But she thinks she is," Megan King says.
The other three turn to look at her, pausing their taunts to listen to her, and Spinelli turns as well. The girl crosses her arms across herself and shakes her head slowly, her face almost taking on a display of pity.
"Well, newsflash, you're just another silly little girl that spins and twirls, just like the rest of us," she tells Spinelli. "You just happen to be dating one of the most popular boys in school and that's the only reason why you matter."
Then Megan King turns around and starts to walk away. Megan Stepanian quickly follows, Megan Prince and Megan Cavanaugh taking one glance over their shoulders as they turn, trying to see if they can throw in one final jab.
Spinelli shakes her head and turns away from them. She crosses her arms and leans back against the barre. What Megan said isn't true. She and TJ aren't one in the same. She has her own personality and likes and dislikes. She has her own friends. She isn't where she is because of TJ. People like her fine, don't they? They don't just like her because TJ likes her. She is more than just her relationship with TJ.
Isn't she?
She blows out a long slow breath. She has to stop letting them get to her. It isn't worth it to get worked up about it. But, as Madame Pavlova calls the rest of the girls back over, her stomach flops unpleasantly. She presses a hand to her gut and grinds her teeth, hoping no one else notices her discomfort.
…
Vince picks at the strawberries in the container, trying to find the best looking ones. The ones on the bottom have already started to get mushy, but there are a few large ones on the top that still look nice. He takes those out and arranges them on top of the cake along with some blueberries and raspberries.
The cake he made isn't exceptionally large or ostentatious. He used a few six inch cake pans to make a three layer cake, which he decorated in a light blue buttercream. He worked hard to make sure the frosting was as smooth as he could get it and then tried a drip method he saw online, having a looser pink frosting drip down the sides, before adding the fruit to the top.
He is sure Gretchen's parents will get her a cake and plenty of presents, but he wanted to do something special for her sixteenth birthday. He figured he could make the cake for when their group of friends get together to celebrate. That way they wouldn't eat the Grundlers out of their cake. Since her birthday fell on a Sunday, it worked out great for timing. He made the actual cakes yesterday, crumb coated the entire thing, and all he had to do was finish the decorations.
He also bought her a gift, but it's just a book that he thinks she'll like and hopes that she hasn't already read. This just seems more personal.
His mother walks into the kitchen as he's adjusting the cake topper. He bought it at the party store downtown and it looks like a little banner that says "Happy Birthday" with each letter in the little triangles. He had wanted one that read "16" but they were all so gaudy – metallic or bright pink or animal print, as if there aren't any girls that like more subtle color palettes.
"That came out really good, Vince," she says. "I'm sure she'll love it."
He nods and leans back to admire his work. "Yeah, I just went with her favorites across the board."
"You spent a lot of time on it."
He shrugs and stands, heading to the sink to wash his hands. "Well, yeah, she's my best friend. I didn't want it to look like crap."
"Best friend, huh."
He rolls his eyes. "Of course. I've known her since kindergarten. What else would she be?"
His mother just hums and goes into the refrigerator to grab something to drink. He turns his head away from the sink and frowns at her.
"What was that?"
"I didn't say anything," she says.
"You hmph'd."
She shakes her head and just chuckles as she walks out of the room. He sighs. Mothers.
He grabs an old box he found to carry the cake in and sets it down gently inside. Satisfied that it won't jostle in the box, he takes the book he wrapped and sticks it under his arm so he can carry the cake with two hands for the short walk over to Gretchen's house. He makes sure to be careful on the uneven bricks of the sidewalk the entire time. After all that work, he can't trip and ruin it now.
When he arrives at Gretchen's, he uses his elbow to ring her doorbell. It doesn't take long for the door to open and Gretchen to stand in front of him.
"Happy sixteenth!" he says.
She smiles and is about to say thank you when her eyes land on the large box in his hands and the wrapped book under his arm. Then she quickly ushers him inside.
"Oh my gosh, come in, come in," she says.
She guides him into the dining room and has him place the box on the table. The dining room isn't excessively decorated. When Mikey turned sixteen, his parents put decorations all over their house. Streamers, confetti, banners – anything and everything they could get a hold of, they used for decorations. Gretchen has some balloons on the back of her chair and a blue table cloth across the table, but otherwise there isn't much else in terms of decor that looks any different from what her parents typically have displayed in their dining room.
He does notice that on the buffet table against the far wall she has some already opened presents from her parents. The first thing his eyes key in on is a box of what appears to be chemicals for her bedroom lab. He smirks. How very Gretchen.
"Vince," she says, pulling his attention back to her. She has since opened the flaps of the box and is looking down at what's inside. "You didn't need to get a cake!"
"I made it!" he says.
Her jaw drops slightly as her lips curl upwards. "You made this for me?"
He nods and reaches in, pulling it out so he can point out all the details.
"Your favorite colors," he says, gesturing to the outside of the cake. "And on the inside it's chocolate cake with ganache and one of the layers has raspberry filling, too."
"That sounds delicious," she says. "Are you sure you don't want to be a professional chef?"
He shakes his head. "I don't think so. It'd take the fun out of it."
He has no idea what he wants to be when he grows up, but he knows that's not it. He does like to cook and bake. When he was younger, it was just because he was good at it. Now that he's older, he likes to do it when it means something, like making a cake for a friend's birthday or a special dinner for his family. Besides, he hasn't entirely written off being a professional basketball player. If he can manage to score a D1 recruitment, he might just be able to swing it. It may be more of a pipe dream, but not one he is going to give up easily.
He reaches under his arm to retrieve the wrapped book. "Oh, and this is just something small so you have something to open when the others get here."
She takes the small gift in her hands and smiles. "Thank you, Vince. This is really too much."
He shakes her off, waving her off with his hand. "Don't be ridiculous. You only turn sixteen once."
Gretchen nods and is about to say something when there's another knock at the door. The two head to the door together and when they open the door, their other four friends are on the other side. Mikey has a giant box wrapped in pink wrapping paper in hands, so tall that it covers most of his face, while Gus, Spinelli, and TJ each hold a bag.
They all shout, "Happy birthday!" as soon as Gretchen opens the door for them. Then all six of them are piling into Gretchen's dining room.
"Wow, Vince. Did you make the cake?" Mikey asks when they arrive.
He nods his head.
"That's so good!" Gus exclaims. "Although, I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Huh, Chez Vince?"
Spinelli nudges Vince's arm. "So, Chez Vince. Just an FYI for October, I like spice cake."
Vince gives her a look and flicks her arm. Spinelli whacks him right back.
"Today's not about you, Spin," he says.
"Yeah, it's Gretchen's birthday and she should definitely open my gift first!" Gus says, holding out his bag to Gretchen.
They each take their seats around the table and for the first time in months, they're all together outside of school. Between all their busy schedules and TJ not being able to hang out much after school, he can't remember the last time they've all been in the same room when they're not at the cafeteria lunch table.
It feels good to all be together again.
…
TJ leans back in his chair and stares at the clock on the far wall. The second hand ticks impossibly slow, as if to taunt him. In his hands, he holds his pencil, bending it at the center in one direction, and then the other, and then back again. The library is so quiet around him that he can hear the ticking of the clock, each jerky movement of the second hand getting louder and louder in his head.
He glances out the window. Tryouts for the spring season started this week. He stares outside longingly, wishing he was out there. Or, really, that he was anywhere but the library.
The library has become routine for him and now the librarian actually knows him by name. At first he rebelled against it, but his efforts seemed futile. Boycotting his library sessions just pushed back his mandatory tutoring timeline and it wasn't like there was anything he was missing out on. All of his friends were busy with sports and activities and their own schoolwork.
So, for six weeks, he sat in the library with a very nice girl named Elizabeth who took pity on him and tried her best to help him out. He spent countless hours in the library – which, honestly, was better than going home, where his father would hound him as soon as he stepped foot into the house. His test scores still weren't stellar, but at least his homework was completed and that was just enough. His grade rounded up to a 73, ensuring a C for the quarter.
His parents still weren't impressed, but the school no longer cared. He was back up to a passing grade and as long as he managed the same for this quarter, his semester grade would be fine and make him eligible for sports in the fall.
Unfortunately, he doesn't play a winter sport and so his six weeks of sitting out will have to start with baseball. The point of the six-week sit-out is supposed to be a punishment, as it negates a majority of the regular season. It's supposed to make the athlete want to do better so next season they can join back in, but also keep coaches accountable to their players' grades. Superintendent Skinner and the school board had the bright idea to make up the rule almost a decade ago when there was a scandal about the entire varsity basketball team not going to class and the coaches just letting it slide. Their school district prides themselves on being one of the top in the state and there had been a pretty massive fallout when that got out to the public.
Apparently. That was back when TJ was in kindergarten and didn't know the rules of the big playground, let alone the town gossip.
He looks down at his math book and shakes his head, shutting the book as he does. It is all gibberish to him anyway and he definitely won't get anything done now. He looks back up at the clock and debates his timing. If he leaves now, he could meet Spinelli at ballet and walk home with her. He hasn't met up with her after ballet in months and it would be nice to get back into that routine since he won't be playing baseball this season. He would love to surprise her and see her for more than five minutes in the daylight.
He stuffs his book in his bag and starts to head out, waving to the librarian as he leaves. He walks down the empty hallways toward the front stairwell and is just about to start down the stairs when he hears someone call his name. He turns around, wondering who it is calling him in the deserted hallway, and sees Coach McMillan, the JV baseball coach.
The JV baseball coach also functions as one of the assistant varsity coaches, acting almost as more of a scout for varsity than a head coach of his own team. The coaching staff for the JV and varsity baseball teams have been the same for years and have seemingly figured out their scouting to a science. Coach McMillan even used to show up to their middle school games, taking note of who is coming up through the school system. As such, the school's baseball team is always one of their best sports and they've won quite a few state championships.
TJ grinds his teeth and looks down at his feet. "Hi, Coach."
The coach comes to stand in front of him, crossing his arms.
"I didn't see your name on my sign up sheet," he says in a leading way.
Although it's a statement, the tone in which he says it makes it clear he expects an answer as to why TJ didn't write his name on the tryout sign-up sheet that went up on McMillan's door last week.
TJ had hoped he could just slowly fade out for the season. There are quite a few talented baseball players in their year and Vince usually steals any and all attention at tryouts anyway. He figured it would be the least embarrassing to ignore the fact that tryouts were happening at all, rather than go to the coaches and see what they wanted him to do. He could still play summer league with his friends after all and he could try out again next year when he doesn't have his six-week sit.
It's not often that he wishes he was more of a wallflower. Now is one of those times.
"I failed math fall semester," he mumbles. Superintendent Skinner was right about this being a punishment. How many times does he have to tell people he failed? Hasn't he had enough embarrassment? "I'm on a mandatory six-week sit-out."
The coach's face doesn't portray any disappointment, just puzzlement.
"You didn't sit out in the winter?"
TJ shakes his head.
"I don't play a winter sport."
Coach McMillan crosses his arms and gives an annoyed grunt.
"There's a loophole for that," he says. "You join the track team."
TJ frowns and bites the inside of his cheek. Of course. He should have thought about that. The track team is where everyone goes to get extracurricular credit when they need it for college applications or other requirements. The track team has always operated on a no-cuts rule. The cross country team in the fall and the track team in the winter and spring don't have tryouts. Anyone who comes to practice can be on the team. Only a certain percentage of the kids who race will actually race for points, but everyone gets to run if they go to practice.
"I didn't think of that."
The coach shakes him off, muttering something about it being too late to worry now.
"What'd you get in math this quarter?" Coach asks.
"C."
"Great," he says. TJ can almost see the gears moving in his coach's mind as he tries to think through a solution. The coach finally nods and adds, "Well, no one looks at spring sports anyway. I'll talk to Sully, see if we can work around it."
Andrew Sullivan is the school's athletic director and the man in charge of keeping track of situations like this. If anyone in the school could figure a way around it, it would be Sully.
"So, for now, just head down to tryouts and we'll figure it out."
"I don't have my glove," TJ says.
He hadn't expected to need any of his sports equipment. The locker room has plenty of extra gym clothes and he can use the school bat, but without a glove he's pretty useless.
The coach waves him off. "I've got an extra in my office. You can use that for today."
He nods his head and as Coach McMillan about-faces in the direction of Sully's office, TJ feels an uncomfortable bubbling in his gut.
"Isn't this against the rules?" he asks.
Coach McMillan turns to face him. "Just keep your head down, don't draw attention to it, and you'll be fine. It isn't like we haven't run into this before."
TJ nods his head and heads toward the gym locker room. As he walks, he figures that this type of thing happens all the time. The loopholes are there for a reason. McMillan and Sully will work their magic, he'll keep his head down, and no one will know. He can't say he is upset about it. He's thrilled to be able to join the JV squad with the rest of his team. Plus, if he plays, maybe people won't realize what happened. He isn't trying to pretend that he's a stellar student, but failing out of playing sports when all the other guys didn't is embarrassing.
Besides, he put in the work and he got his grades up. As long as he does the same for the final quarter, his math grade will stay in the C range and he'll have no issues for football season either. He'll be back on track.
The locker room is full of spring athletes when he walks in. A few guys wave to him or give him a fist bump as he heads toward his locker. No one seems to realize that he isn't supposed to be here. But, like Coach McMillan said, keep his head down.
Everything will work out in the end. It always does for TJ. Loopholes are loopholes for a reason. They're how he managed most of his shenanigans on the playground, why would it be any different now?
As he opens his locker door, he notices Vince come to stand beside him, leaning against the locker with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.
"I thought you had a mandatory six-week sit-out," Vince says under his breath.
TJ shrugs and reaches into his locker, grabbing an old pair of sweats he kept in there from football season. He sniffs at it and, determining it's clean, shuts the door.
"Apparently there's a loophole."
Vince grins.
"Awesome," he says. "I was getting worried who they were gonna stick in your spot. Our team doesn't need any randos. We're perfect as is, thank you."
"Absolutely!"
The two share a high five and then their signature handshake before Vince heads to his own locker to get ready himself.
…
Notes
Over on my tumblr page (my username is the same: dracoisalooker76) I've reblogged a beautiful cover art done by Ketto_Art for this fic. You should definitely go check it out!
Gretchen's birthday is March 23, per the episode Outcast Ashley. Vince's cooking skills are on display in the episode Chez Vince.
Thanks for reading! Happy holidays!