#5 Not What I Expected (10 page)

“I'm in high school now. I'm old enough to speak for myself.” I turned my attention to Mom. “I'll be there tomorrow.” Then I went back to my room.

I need some sleep.

Apparently, I have customers to wait on.

Saturday, November 15, 1:02 p.m.

Grumpy

Dance sucked. Practice was hard. Plus, Brynn was being so annoying. Every time I said something, she had this look on her face like it was painful for her to listen. I knew she thought I owed her an apology, but I wasn't giving her one. I've always been the one to give in to her, but she's been unfair about Sophie ever since she moved here. I had nothing to apologize for.

Then, when I came home, May and June were waiting for me. “Dad said you have to make lunch for us,” said May. “Then he's going to pick us all up and drop you off at the store and we're going with him to the diner.”

It pissed me off. The diner serves food, so I don't see why Dad couldn't make lunch for his daughters. But I clearly didn't get to offer an opinion on this matter.

I took out a loaf of bread and a package of ham. I lined three slices of bread up on the counter and slapped two pieces of ham on top of each one. I topped off the ham with another slice of bread. “Here,” I said sliding the sandwiches across the counter to May and June.

June looked at hers. “I want turkey.”

“Just eat it,” I snapped.

May and June recoiled. “Why are you so grumpy?” asked May.

I took a bite of my own sandwich and ignored her question. She wouldn't understand the answer anyway.

10:45 p.m.

Less grumpy

I'm glad I went to help Mom at her store. It was a temporary respite (vocab word, well used) from my chronic bad mood. Not that waiting on ladies while they shopped for clothes was particularly inspiring, but what happened afterward was. When the store closed, I went next door to the deli.

“Want some therapy?” Leo asked when I walked in.

“Huh?” I couldn't believe it was that evident that I was having a bad day.

Leo smiled. “That's deli code for chicken soup.” He motioned for me to sit down at a table. He went into the kitchen, and when he returned, he brought back a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup that he set in front of me.

I took a spoonful. “That's hot!” I said as I downed a glass of water.

Leo laughed. “Soup usually is.” Then he got a serious look on his face. “What's up April? You look troubled.”

It all spilled out. Everything. I told Leo about my parents and how they're always arguing and stressed and expect me to do so much. I told him about the drama with Brynn and that she doesn't like Sophie because she thinks Sophie is trying to steal Billy, and that she's mad at me because she thinks I'm taking Sophie's side over hers. And I told him what happened on Halloween. I told him about seeing Matt and that, even though I don't like him anymore, it didn't feel good seeing him with another girl. I even told him what Matt said to me on the street and how I didn't confront him when I had the chance.

Leo listened patiently until I was done. “This is like a very complex chem lab,” he said. “But the good news is that I have a solution.”

“What does chem have to do with my problems?”

“That was a science joke. Chem lab. Problem. Solution. Get it?” Leo didn't wait for me to laugh. “First, parents. They can be a handful,” said Leo.

He told me about his own family and that he's been listening to his parents argue since he was little. “Sometimes I think the only thing they have in common is me. The way I look at it is that parents are people too. Which means they go through ups and downs. I think the best you can do is look at what really motivates them and how they feel about you.”

It was reassuring to hear that. Even though things have been difficult lately, I know what my parents love most is their family and that they'd do anything for my sisters and me.

“When it comes to your crazy friends, I'm afraid I can't be of much help,” said Leo.

I frowned. “My friends aren't crazy.”

“In my experience, most teens are,” said Leo. “That's why I'm homeschooled.”

“I thought you said you had a solution.”

Leo gave me a sheepish smile. “I do. The solution is simple.” Then he said something I totally hadn't expected.

“Come with me to yoga.”

Waking up to who you are requires letting go of who you imagine yourself to be.

—Alan Watts

Saturday, November 22, 9:45 p.m.

Post-yoga

I went to yoga with Leo tonight, and in a weirdly Zen way, I liked it.

Leo doesn't live too far from me, so he walked to my house and we walked to the yoga studio together. It was the first time I'd told Mom and Dad about him. I think normally they'd have a problem with me hanging out with a guy who's sixteen, but they've been so distracted lately with their own problems, that when I told them I was going with Leo to yoga, they didn't even question it.

When we got to the yoga studio, Leo introduced me to the teacher, Natasha, who gave me a mat and told me to go at my own pace. Leo set his mat up next to mine. “Don't do what I do,” he said with a wink.

But as the class started, I couldn't believe how good he was. He moved from posture to posture in a strong yet graceful way. I was pretty self-conscious at first. But as Natasha led the class through Sun Salutation, she told us to focus on our breathing and to allow our lungs to fill with air. As I concentrated on my breathing, I stopped worrying about what other people were doing and started to relax.

As Natasha went through the rest of the poses, I followed her lead and tried my best to do what she was showing us. My favorite pose was called camel pose. It's like doing a backbend while you're on your knees and it was a great stretch.

We finished the class with something called corpse pose or Savasana. You lie flat on your back with your arms and legs spread out and your eyes closed, and you just breathe as a way of meditating. It was incredibly relaxing. I almost fell asleep while we were doing it.

I probably would have, but Natasha was going from person to person rubbing lavender oil on everyone's temples. When she got to me, I took a deep breath as she massaged the sides of my head, and my nostrils filled with the scent of lavender and burning incense.

Before we left the class, we all sat on our knees and held our hands in prayer position.

“Each day is a new opportunity. The unexpected can happen. Embrace it,” said Natasha. “Move forward without expectation and with gratitude for what is, not worrying about what will be.” Her voice had a soothing quality.

“Namaste,” she said. Then the whole class said “Namaste.” People bowed and then started picking up their mats.

“What'd you think of yoga?” asked Leo as we walked home.

“You're amazing at it.”

Leo smiled. “It just takes practice. Maybe we'll do it again sometime.”

“I'd like that,” I said.

Leo took in my expression. “You look puzzled.”

It's so cool how Leo is able to get what I'm thinking without me saying anything. “There's something I'm not sure I get,” I said.

Leo raised an eyebrow.

I'd been mulling over what Natasha said at the end of the class. “What do you think Natasha meant when she talked about moving forward without expectation?”

Leo was uncharacteristically slow to answer. I'm not sure if he was relaxed from the class or formulating his response. “When I started high school, I had an expectation of what it would be like. Middle school was hard for me. I didn't fit in, and I was sure it would change when I got to high school. I thought the kids would think it was cool that I was so smart.” Leo paused. “But they thought it was weird. They called me Lab Rat. Burner Boy. Broke my glasses. Kid stuff, but I didn't like it. It's why I wanted to be homeschooled.”

So this was the part of his story he hadn't felt comfortable sharing with me when we first talked about why he is homeschooled. I tried to imagine what it would be like to feel so different from the other kids. I'm sure it was hard.

Leo kept talking. “Now I'm going to college, and I'm trying to have no expectations of what it will be like. I don't want to be disappointed.”

“Do you think having expectations always leads to disappointment?” I asked.

“No,” said Leo. “Sometimes things happen that are better than what you expected. But if you expect things to go a certain way or that people will act how you want them to, you'll just be disappointed if they don't.”

He looked down at me over the rim of his glasses. “Like with Brynn. If you expect that she's going to embrace Sophie, you'll be disappointed if that's not what happens.”

“I get what you're talking about,” I said. “But isn't it kind of unrealistic not to have expectations?”

“I'm not saying it's not hard. But what's the point? If you don't have expectations, you avoid disappointment.” I was quiet as I thought about what he'd said. Leo continued. “And with Matt. If you don't expect him to be a nice guy, you won't be disappointed when he's a jerk.”

I made a face.

“Sorry if that was hard for you to hear,” said Leo. “You can't control what other people do.”

That made sense. “But what do I do? Just let Matt go on being a jerk?”

Leo shook his head. “Absolutely not. You tell him how you feel.”

I looked down. “He doesn't care how I feel.”

Leo shrugged. “It's not about him. It's about you.” His eyes met mine. “I know more about chemistry in a lab than chemistry between people, but I think you need closure with Matt.”

“If I have something to say, just say it.”

Leo did a fist pump. “Tell him how you feel, and be done.”

Leo was right, and I knew it. Matt didn't turn out to be the person I thought he was, and it's time for me to move on. Once and for all. As we walked, a comfortable silence settled between Leo and me. “You're so good at so many things,” I said. “Chemistry. Yoga. Knowing what to say to make people feel better. Is there anything you don't know how to do?”

Leo laughed. “No one knows how to do everything.”

I knew that was the case, but I wanted to know where Leo was deficient. “Name one thing you don't know how to do,” I said.

“Are you serious?”

I stopped walking and leaned against a tree. I looked at Leo like I was waiting for him to give me an answer.

“OK,” said Leo. He stopped walking too and turned to face me. “One thing I don't know how to do is kiss a girl.”

I hadn't expected him to say that. “You've never kissed a girl?” I asked softly.

Leo shook his head. Even though it was dark outside, I could see that his face was turning red. I took Leo's hands in mine and put them around my waist. He looked at me and silently moved closer. I reached up and circled my arms around his neck. Leo is taller than I am, so I stood on my tiptoes. Our mouths were almost aligned.

I tilted my chin toward his, our lips met, and we kissed. It wasn't a long kiss, just a few seconds, but it felt instinctive and comfortable, like … like we'd kissed each other before. When we were done, I pulled back, and Leo looked at me. “What did you think of kissing?” I asked.

“I think you're amazing at it.”

I smiled at Leo. “It just takes practice. Maybe we'll do it again sometime.”

“I'd like that,” said Leo. Then he ruffled the top of my hair with his hand. “You're cute, April.”

I reached up and did the same thing to his hair. “So are you, Leo.” We both laughed and as he walked me home, and I felt my lungs fill up with air.

Happy air.

Sunday, November 23, 4:15 p.m.

I talked to Matt. I did it, and it was simple. I went to his house after lunch, rang the bell, and when he opened the door, I told him what I'd come to say. No hesitation.

“When we started going out, you were sweet. I really liked you, and I thought you liked me too. But you hurt me this summer when you kissed Sophie while I was at camp. You didn't even seem like you were sorry you did it. You said we'd see what things were like when school started. Then you kissed a girl at a party I happened to be at, and when I saw you do it, you told me I'm creepy.”

Matt opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but I didn't give him an opportunity. “It doesn't matter what happened,” I said. “You didn't turn out to be the person I thought you were.”

“April,” said Matt, and he paused. Then he did his head bob thing. I don't know if he was stalling while he was thinking of what he wanted to say or if that was all he had to say. Either way, it didn't matter. I was done. I turned and walked back to my house, and as I did, I felt good. Actually, better than good, like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. No more wait-and-see for me. Finally, I can say I'm done with Matt Parker.

And mean it.

Dancers are made, not born.

—Mikhail Baryshnikov

Monday, November 24, 7:07 a.m.

In bed

Mom left this morning to go to Atlanta, Georgia. “I'll be back Wednesday in time for the dance show,” she said when she came into my room to tell me good-bye. The she bent down and kissed me. “Hold down the fort while I'm gone.”

“No problem,” I said. What could possibly happen in Faraway, Alabama, in two days?

8:32 p.m.

In the bathtub

OMG!

I can't believe what happened in dress rehearsal today. Emily, who was supposed to do the freshman solo in the dance show Wednesday night, was going through her routine, did a leap, landed wrong on her ankle, and couldn't stand up. Ms. Baumann called the school nurse, who came to take a look. She poked, prodded, determined it was sprained and wrapped an ice pack around it until Emily's mom came to get her.