Reason to Breathe (7 page)

“What do you want to do?”

“Nothing crazy,” she reassured me. “Just
shorten it.”

“Whatever you want to do is fine with
me.”

“Really?! This is going to be so great!” she
exclaimed, practically jumping off the stool and dragging me back
up the stairs.

She opened the middle drawer of her vanity
that displayed every shade of lipstick and nail polish on the
market, and took out a comb and pair of professional shears. She
invited me to sit as she laid a towel on the floor to capture the
clippings, and attaching another around my shoulders. “No one’s
going to recognize you tonight.”

That wouldn’t be a bad thing.

Sara drew the comb through my hair and
clipped portions of it up. I felt the weight begin to fall and
decided it was best to keep my eyes shut and let her concentrate –
or to keep me from panicking as more hair fell to the floor. Sara
sung along with the music as she combed, clipped, and cut. Before I
knew it, she plugged in the hair dryer and ran it over a round
brush as she styled my hair.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Sara instructed as
she spread eye shadow along my lids with her cool fingers.

“Sara, please don’t make me look ridiculous,”
I pleaded.

“I’m barely putting any on. I promise.” The
bristles of a brush streaked across my cheeks. “What do you think?
Em, open your eyes!” she demanded impatiently.

I slowly opened my eyes to view the
transformation. My dark brown hair gently rested on my shoulders,
and layers of bangs softened my heart shaped face. I found myself
smiling.

“I like it,” I admitted. She hadn’t put much
make-up on, to my relief - just a slight shimmer on my lids and
hint of pink to my cheeks, which wouldn’t be needed if I was
anywhere near Evan.

“Here,” Sara said handing me a tube of lip
gloss and mascara. “I thought it would be easier if you put these
on yourself. I’m going to get ready in the bathroom, I’ll be right
back.”

While Sara was drying and styling her hair, I
sat on one of the beds and flipped through the latest women’s
magazine with articles on how to be more aggressive and the fastest
way to lose ten pounds. When she glided back into the room, she
radiated with loose curls of shiny red hair and just enough makeup
to show off her blue eyes and pouty red lips. It deflated me a
little.

“What’s wrong?” Sara asked, reacting to my
sunken shoulders.

“Are you sure you want me to go with you? I
don’t want it to be awkward for you having me tagging along when I
know everyone will want to talk to you.”

She scowled and threw a pillow at me. “Shut
up. Of course I want you to go with me. Why should this be any
different than any other day? If people talk to me, and I want to
talk to them, I will. It’s never bothered you before.”

I looked at the floor, recognizing my nerves
were getting the better of me – and it really had nothing to do
with Sara’s popularity. “You’re right. Sorry, I’m just getting a
little paranoid about going.”

“We’ll have fun, I promise.” Sara flashed the
whites of her teeth from between her shiny red lips. She went back
into her closet and threw something out in my direction. “This
white scarf goes perfectly with that sweater, and it will keep you
warm, so you won’t miss not having a jacket.”

“Thanks.” I grabbed the fuzzy scarf and
wrapped it around my neck as I stood in front of the mirror. Sara
was right - I did look different.

“This is going to be the best night,” Sara
reassured me when we got into her car to drive to the school. She
was so excited she could barely contain her energy, which made me
smile. I made an effort to let go of the anxiety that’d been
building. I could do this. I could be social. Okay, let’s not go
that far. I would not be completely pathetic – that sounded better.
Who was I kidding?

5.
Fading

When we
pulled in, the parking lot was filling with cars, and spectators
were making their way to the ticket booth in a steady drove. A jolt
of panic rushed through my body. I knew I was being ridiculous -
this was only a high school football game - but I might as well
have been walking to school naked. Sara jumped out of the car and
yelled to a group of girls who were lost in a giggling conversation
while heading toward the stadium.

“Sara!” they screamed in unison and ran to
her, receiving her with hugs and gleeful babble. I followed behind
her, suddenly feeling overly exposed in the fitted sweater - the
fashionable scarf doing little to conceal the low neckline.

“Emma?!” Jill Patterson exclaimed in shock.
Everyone turned to gawk at me. The fire ignited in my cheeks. I
knew the artificial color would be unnecessary.

I forced a smile with my lips pressed
together and waved casually.

“Wow, you look great,” another girl declared
in disbelief. The rest of the girls offered similar gushing
compliments.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, wishing I was invisible
again.

Sara linked her arm through mine and led us
to the ticket booth with a prideful smile. I took another deep
breath and prepared myself for whatever the night presented.
Unfortunately, there were many more reactions of astonishment and
gawking

There was a lot of stares, whispers, and
comments about my presence and transformation, but not a lot of
conversation. It was evident no one knew what to say to me any more
than I knew what to say to them. So I sunk into the metal bleachers
and engrossed myself in the football game. Sara cheered for Jason
and watched as much as she was allowed. She was often drawn away by
just about everyone passing by, including some of the parents who
were there to support the local high school football team or their
son who was on the field - or bench. I couldn’t get over how many
people she knew and how effortlessly she’d come up with a witty
remark or a kind sentiment. I should’ve taken notes.

During the third quarter, I decided to get a
hot chocolate while Sara walked off toward the school with Jill and
Casey to use the restroom, talking and giggling about something.
While I waited in line, I scuffed the ground with my foot, lost in
the booming voice of the announcer calling the last play as Weslyn
continued to move the ball down the field.

“Not a bad game, huh?” His voice carried
through the cheering crowd and the deep voice of the announcer. I
turned to find Evan behind me, holding his camera.

“No, it’s a pretty good game,” I replied,
struggling to find my voice. The sweater suddenly felt stifling as
my cheeks set aglow once again, ignited by the frenzied beating in
my chest. “Are you covering the game for the paper?” As soon as I
said it, I knew it was a dumb thing to say. Of course he was
covering the game - I assigned him the coverage!

“Yeah,” he said holding up his camera,
dismissing my ignorance. “I thought I heard you didn’t go to the
games?”

“I’m staying over Sara’s tonight,” I
answered, thinking that would be enough of an explanation for him
as it was for everyone else. But he appeared confused. I paused to
recall the answer Sara had prepared.

“I’m usually so busy with school and
everything that I don’t get out much. It worked out that I could
tonight.”

The line continued to move forward, I stepped
up. Evan followed.

“Oh,” he replied. I could tell he still
wasn’t satisfied with my answer. “Are you and Sara going to the
party after the game?”

“I think so,” I said tentatively. “Are
you?”

“Yeah. I’m supposed to follow some of the
guys from the soccer team over there.”

I nodded, not knowing what else to say. I
turned back toward the counter, thinking this would give him the
opportunity to escape and go back to taking pictures of the game. I
remained facing forward, not looking back to see if he’d walked
away. I ordered a hot chocolate and turned to find him still
waiting for me.

“Do you want to walk around with me while I
take a few more pictures?” My heart stopped again. I wished it
would decide if it was going to pound out of my chest or fall out.
The stopping and starting was getting to be a bit much.

“Sure,” I heard my mouth say, before my brain
registered what I’d agreed to do. He smiled, and my heart took off
beating at its exhaustive pace again.

“So, you’ve decided to talk to me,” Evan
observed, looking at the ground as he walked next to me.

“I shouldn’t. But, it’s only a matter of time
before you see that I’m not that interesting, and you’ll let me
fade into the background like everyone else.”

He laughed and studied me, uncertain if I was
serious. I was bewildered by his reaction.

He drew his eyebrows together with a smile
and said, “I actually think you’ve become more interesting now that
you’ve decided to talk to me, whether you
should
or not.” I
groaned. He smiled bigger and added, “Besides, I don’t think it’s
possible for you to fade. Well, at least not in that sweater.”

All of the blood in my body rushed to my
face. “It’s Sara’s sweater,” I confessed, looking at the ground to
conceal the drastic color change.

“I like it,” he admitted. “It’s a good color
on you.” Maybe talking to him wasn’t such a good idea after all.
This was way more than I bargained for. What was I supposed to do
with a comment like that? I took a sip of my hot chocolate, and
sucked air between my teeth as the scalding liquid soaked into my
tongue.

“Too hot?” he observed.

“Yeah – I don’t think I’ll be able to taste
anything for a week.”

He smiled again. I decided my heart had been
tortured enough by his smile and stared back at the ground.

“I have a bottle of water in my bag, by the
team’s bench, if you want.”

“No, that’s okay, thanks. The damage is
done.” Before I knew it, we had circled back around and were
walking in front of the bleachers where the cheerleaders encouraged
the crowd to spell “Weslyn”. I glanced up into the stands to locate
Sara. She waved to me and pointed to Evan with her mouth open in
disbelief. I shrugged in return, turning away before he
noticed.

“Have you met many people yet?” I asked,
trying to sound casual. It occurred to me that maybe he kept
harassing me because he didn’t know anyone else. Why he chose me
was another mystery.

“Actually, I have,” he answered sincerely, to
my dismay. “It helps to be on the soccer team and involved with the
paper. It gives me an excuse to talk to people. Someone’s always
eager to fill me in on who’s who. That’s how I learned more about
you – which was harder than I thought it was going to be.”

Before I could question what he found out, he
continued with, “So you’re name’s actually Emily, huh?”

I nodded with a slight shrug.

“Then how come everyone calls you Emma?”

It had been awhile since anyone needed this
explanation, but I found myself being more honest than I had with
the others. "My dad used to call me Emma."

And I left it at that, and so did he.

We’d passed the bleachers and were standing
in their shadows along the track. The cheering and announcing
drifted away with the quickening of my pulse as panic raced through
my body. I needed to know what he’d found out about me but was
afraid to know at the same.

Unable to stop myself, I finally asked, “What
else could you have possibly learned about me?”

He smirked and replied, “Besides the obvious
– your perfect GPA, involved in three varsity sports, and all of
that?”

“Yes, besides that.” I held my breath. No one
besides Sara knew about my life, right? There was no way he could
know. Then why was I so paranoid?

“Well, you intimidate most of the guys in the
school, so you never get asked out. The girls think you’re stuck up
and that’s why your only friend is the most popular girl in school.
It’s assumed that no one else is good enough for you.” My eyes
stretched wide as he continued. “Your teachers feel bad for you.
They think that you put too much pressure on yourself to be perfect
and are missing out on what high school’s all about. And your coach
thinks he’s lucky to have you, and is confident the team’s a
shoe-in for state champions this year as long as you don’t get
injured.”

He became serious, noticing the awed look on
my face. “But you’ve only been here a week,” I whispered. “People
actually told you this?”

Evan paused in confusion before he asked,
“You didn’t know any of this?” I could only stare at him. “I
figured the reason you keep to yourself was because you were so
confident, and you didn’t care what anyone thought of you. You
really had no idea what they say about you?”

I shook my head. “Honestly, I never gave it
much thought because it wasn’t important to me. I just need to get
through high school.”

“Why?” he asked slowly.

It was the question I couldn’t answer, and
the reason I shouldn’t talk to him. I was saved from having to lie
when the crowd erupted as the announcer declared a touchdown for
Weslyn. I looked up at the scoreboard to see Weslyn’s numbers
change to 28, as the visitor’s remained 14. The clock held steady
with less than two minutes remaining in the fourth quarter.

“I should go find Sara,” I said. “I’ll see
you later.” I walked off before he could respond. There was so much
to take in, and I didn’t know how to absorb it all.

I located Sara along the sidelines, behind
the rope that separated the field from the track.

“There you are!” she exclaimed. “Did you see
Jason run in that last touchdown?”

“I didn’t have a good view,” I confessed. She
clapped and yelled for the defense to stop the ball.

Then she pulled me aside, away from the
crowd. “First,” she said intently, “you are going to repeat every
word of the conversation you had with Evan before we go to sleep
tonight. Everyone’s been talking about you two. I think half the
school already assumes you’re dating.” My mouth dropped open.