Searching for Beautiful (6 page)

Mom wanted me to try everything as a kid. She’d sign me up for the most random classes, telling me it was the only way to find “my thing.”

It’s because of one of her random classes that I found it when I was ten. Pottery. I took to it right away, like my hands were meant to be covered in clay. I wonder if God has a checklist. If there’s a form he fills out, marking bubbles for each new baby to be born. This one will be able to sing, the other run track. Brynn De Luca? She’s meant for pottery.

When I was fourteen, Mom talked Dad into building my pottery room. A girl deserves her own space, she told him. Without space, it’s hard to grow, and Mom knew if she gave me the space, my talent would grow.

Dad would never deny her anything—either of us, really—so I got my room off the back of the house. I have to go outside to get to it and it’s not huge, but it’s big enough. There’s space for all my supplies, cabinets for me to fill with whatever I need. My pottery wheel and even a small kiln.

When I step inside, I flick the light switch next to the door. It looks just how I left it. Two six-foot-tall wooden cabinets against the wall, one on each side of the door. A few older pieces of my work on the counters. A sink and stereo. There are two windows, one above the sink, which is on the back wall, and one on the left side.

But my wheel is still empty, in the middle of the room. My wooden chair with the pillow Mom made for me, sitting on it. There’s a small couch against the wall, where Mom or Dad used to sometimes watch me. It’s been lonely lately, too. And of course, in the corner, my kiln, cold and dusty.

And I can’t do it. Not in this room. How can I do anything here when I sat in that chair, making a vase while she was dying?

I turn and go outside again. Gasping, I suck in a mouthful of the rain-tinged air. I should be over this by now. Why can’t I get over it?

“Enjoying your night?” a voice says from the other side of the fence, separating my yard from the neighbor’s. The house has been empty forever. Apparently, it isn’t anymore.

“Whatever, Peeping Tom.” Shivers skate over me. Talking to spooky neighbor guy, who I can’t see in the dark, definitely isn’t a good idea. I turn to head back into the house.

“I’m crushed. Two times in one day you didn’t remember me. In my defense, I’m not trying to be a creeper. Just wanted to say hi to an old friend.”

I stop, the voice sparking something inside me. Memories that have nothing to do with having run him down this morning. Reaching inside his back door, he turns on the light. The fence is low enough to see his raised porch. Oh my God. I’m shocked into inaction, my mind riding a cloud back in time. To the seventh grade…

Chapter Eleven

Before

“All right, kids! This is the last slow song of the night. Enjoy!” The DJ’s voice echoes through the room, each pulse of his words making my eyes flood with tears. I haven’t danced with a single boy all night. This is my first dance. I’ve dreamed about this day since Mom first told me how she met Dad.

I wasn’t supposed to be miserable. The boy of my dreams was supposed to see me from across the room and come talk to me. It was supposed to be perfect.

Ellie and Diana stand by me at the gym door, like my jailers. If not for them, I’ll run and they know it. The three of us have always been on the same wavelength like that. We can read each other too well.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“It’s just one dance.” Ellie squeezes my arm.

“He’ll come around,” Diana adds.

“You guys rock.” I seriously have the best friends in the world. “Do you want to—”

“Brynn!” A voice cuts off my words.

It’s weird how one moment can stand out in your mind. I don’t hear the music, my friends, or any of the other people. Just my name being yelled across the gym.

The rest happens in slow motion. I turn. Christian stands about fifteen feet away from me. His lips quirk in a half smile as he does the finger thing. You know, when a guy crooks his finger at you and says to come here.

Thump. Thump. Thump.
My heart threatens an attack. When I don’t move, Ellie or Diana—I don’t even know who—gives me a slight push. My feet are heavy as I walk toward him

“Do you wanna dance?” he asks, his Hispanic accent coming out a little more than usual.

I can’t find the words to reply, so I nod. Christian leads me to the corner of the gym. We don’t talk as he wraps his arms around my waist, giving me chills.
Is this what Mom felt when she first danced with Dad?
I wonder. Maybe this will be the start to my very own love story with the boy I’ve had a crush on forever.

He smells sweet. Like candy. Still, no words come as I lock my shaking fingers together behind his neck. In the same slow motion, we move together, no sounds but the music and my friends cheering for me in the background.

When the song is over, Christian looks at me with his too-blue eyes and I know right then, I love him. I mean, I’ve crushed on him for months and months, but now I know it’s love. Like the forever kind.

“Thanks for the dance, Bryntastic,” he says. I don’t know why he calls me that, but he’s done it for months now.

Again, my reply is a nod. Christian smiles one more time before disappearing into the crowd. Me? I run. Run to the bathroom, Ellie and Diana right behind me. Tears pour down my face and they laugh and hug me as we spin around the girl’s room, one of my most exciting moments spent with my best friends.

Just like Mom and Dad, I fall in love at a dance.

A week later, Christian and his family are suddenly gone and I never see him again.

Chapter Twelve

Now

Until now.

“Long time no see, Bryntastic.”

“Christian,” I mumble. It can’t be him. He can’t be back. I hate boys, and I don’t want to hate him. I’m not dumb. I know I didn’t really love him but still, he’s a good memory. One you want to keep locked away so it never has the chance to be ruined because you know something like that will never happen again. “I have to go,” I say, and for the second time in one day, I run away from Christian Medina.

…

“Hey, beautiful.” Soft fingers brush the hair out of my face. Though my eyes are begging me to stay closed, everything inside me needs them open. I need to see the face that goes with the voice I love so much.

Prying them open, I come face-to-face with Jason, leaning in my car window. “Hey…sorry. I must have fallen asleep waiting for you.” It’s a shock I didn’t wake up because of his car. It’s his prized possession. Super loud and really fast. He likes speed.

“That’s okay. Sorry I’m late. Something came up.”

Laughing it off, I reply, “You’re terrible about being on time.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Red. I had to do something with my dad.” His brown eyes never leave mine, so sincere. “You should come in with me. Since I’m late, we might be cutting it a little short. I want to spend some time with you before Sam gets home. It’s our anniversary.” Leaning closer, he kisses me. I immediately melt into him, savoring that mint and smoke taste. No one has ever kissed me like Jason does. Not Ian. Not Brian, who I kissed in that game of spin the bottle. Just Jason.

“I missed you,” he whispers against my lips. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can.” By then, he’s already pulling my door open. Taking my hand and gently tugging me into his brother’s house.

It only takes him about ten minutes to get my clothes off. It’s only our second time doing it, but I already feel more comfortable than I did the first time. Jason loves me and I love him. Like he says, what better way is there to show it?

My eyes slip open so easily, I’m not sure if I was dreaming or remembering. Or maybe it’s that they’re so wet and full of unshed tears that it’s too hard to keep them closed.

These memories make me feel like I’m drowning and flying at the same time.

I hate that I can’t stop dwelling on them. On him. Jason. I still remember the rapid beat of my heart when he told me he loved me. When he called me his beautiful. It felt good. Real. So good I want to bottle up that old feeling and store it inside me. Deep inside where it will always be safe and where I can feel it any time I want to without any shame. Experience it like I did for a brief second when he called today.

Then there’s the part of me grounded in logic rather than emotions. Funny, how before this I didn’t realize I had those two parts. I didn’t realize they could work against each other so strongly. Before I actually fell for him, I never would have been the girl to fall for lies.

I can’t help but wonder if all girls think that. If they all think I’m stupid because they don’t believe it can happen to them.

It can.

Anyway, the logical part wants to take that glass jar and smash it against a wall. To take a sledgehammer to it over and over until there’s nothing left but tiny shards of glass so small, so insignificant, they can no longer hurt me. As fine as sand.

Still, after lying in bed for another hour, sleep not a possibility, I get up and sit at my computer desk. Hating myself more with each letter typed, I do what I’ve done a million and one times since June. I Google Jason Richter.

Being the girl who was dumb enough to fall for Jason sucks.

Being the one who somehow misses him is unforgivable.

…

When I walk down the hallway at school, it’s obvious the novelty hasn’t worn off. I’m not sure what I expected. That overnight people would realize I’m not contagious? It doesn’t happen, though.

What does happen is I get called into the counselor’s office during first period.

I wring my hands as Mrs. Wilson stares at me. I see it in her, too…the questions, accusations. Am I the victim here, or Brynn the man-eater? The girl who tried to get Jason in her trap?

“How are you doing?” She pushes a strand of black hair behind her ear, leaning back in her chair. It’s such a psychologist move, something I’ve seen in a million different movies.

“Awesome.” I mean, really? How does she think I’m doing? I hate it when people ask questions they know the answer to.

“You’re right. Dumb question.” She rolls a pencil between her fingers. “So, I know you skipped school yesterday afternoon. You’re not in trouble this time. We’re trying to be…sensitive to your situation, but you can’t do that, okay? Next time I won’t have a choice except to give you detention.”

I have to bite my tongue not to reply the way I want to.
Detention? Oh no!
It’s strange the things that would have been a punishment before, but now? It might even be a welcome distraction. A way to escape from Dad’s silence, while his eyes question. His pain that I don’t have to look in a mirror to know reflects in me as well.

So instead of saying that, I nod.

“Did anything happen yesterday? Someone say something? I’m always here if you need to talk.” Her eyes crinkle a little, giving me “the look.” Pity. I don’t know what’s better, pity or the emptiness I get from others.

“No.” My eyes find the ground, conflicting emotions warring inside me. There’s a part of me that actually wants to talk to her. Talk to someone, but I think there’s a block inside me. A huge wall, made by unknown hands that won’t let me talk about Jason. About the baby or how I feel. About Dad or even Mom. That barrier is still there, holding me back.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” My eyes find hers, hoping they prove my lie isn’t…well, a lie.

“Okay. I know this must be a difficult time for you, Brynn. Please know I’m always, always here if you want to talk, okay?”

Tell me you believe me, and the walls might come down. They might crack or crumble.
“Okay.”

“I’ve talked to your dad and we’re concerned. We know you’re not socializing with your friends anymore. That’s not good for you.”

“I’m fine.”

She sighs. “You have two choices. You can talk to me a couple times a week, or you can go to the community center in town. There are other girls your age and it would help if you talked to them—made some friends. They have many different programs and there’s even art classes and pottery supplies you can use. You need to try to get back to how life was before. Make some more friends. And hopefully talk.”

What good will talking do? It’s not going to bring back Mom. It won’t make it so Jason never existed. It won’t bring back the baby. It’s obvious she’s going to push, though. And I’m definitely not talking to her. “I’ll go to the community center. It sounds fun.” It’s amazing how easily the lies come now.

“Good. I’ll give them a call so they know to expect you. Have a good day.”

Standing, I walk out of the room without bothering to reply.

…

The morning crawls by without a glimpse of Christian. I don’t know why I notice or why I care, but I do. Not care, but notice. I’ve been telling myself all morning that I refuse to spend lunch in the bathroom again. I’m not that girl. I don’t have to hide out. Jason’s taken everything else from me, and I refuse to let him turn me into the girl who hides in the bathroom every day, too.

As I close my locker to head to the cafeteria, I see them. Diana, Ellie, Todd, Kevin, Ian…and Christian. It’s like my feet suddenly refuse to move. I don’t know why. I mean, why should it matter? They don’t care about me, so I shouldn’t care about them. They were friends with Christian before, so it makes sense they would be again now.

Somehow knowing it and seeing it are two different things. If it weren’t for Jason, I would be with them. Maybe holding Ian’s hand. Maybe not. Maybe reminiscing with Christian or finding out why he disappeared back then. Or maybe I’d be laughing with Ellie. Teasing Diana. Something. Anything, as a part of that group.

The group Christian fell back into so easily. I can’t help but wonder how much about me he knows. Wonder if he’s told them why he left so suddenly after our dance.

Christian pushes his hair back and laughs at something Ellie says. Playfully shoves Kevin like it hasn’t been years and years since they’ve seen each other. With no thought, they took him back into the group.

It’s like a reinforcement of that wall. Like there’s now brick built around the wood. My stomach aches and my heart hurts. I don’t want to think it, but I do. I want to be with them.