Crush

Sara was constantly surrounded by people she rolled her eyes at—girls who pretended to be stupid and boys who breathed through their mouths and let out deep huh’s for laughter. When she walked through the hallway, sneaking glances at the pink slide out phone her mom bought her, these kids trailed at her feet, formed a semi-circle at her back and figured themselves her first line of defense. Ms. Metz’ Language arts class, with its strict butts in seats policy, was the only time I didn’t have to look through them to see her.

At the time, I didn’t know it was a crush, couldn’t see it as anything other than jealous fixation. The Monday after spring break, Sara came late to class with a doctor’s note in hand and fresh metal on her teeth. She made braces look cool, and I wanted them immediately, wanted a stiff jaw and rubber bands that alternated pink and teal like hers did. I noticed the thin smear of her mascara, and I wanted that too. Sara was the kind of girl you wanted to be, wanted to crawl deep inside of and squint hard—palm shadowing your pale blue eyes—because sometimes the spotlight stings.

The day Sara got her braces, I slept over at my best friend Mia’s house. I hadn’t even rung the bell before I heard the door squeaking open and felt Mia’s baby soft hand tugging at my wrist, pulling me down the stairs to the basement while I shouted, Hello Mr. and Mrs. Freeman, with forced brevity. We laid out our sleeping bags on the basement floor, smoothing the corners over with our elbows while we talked about boys, about books, about how Caroline Connell said she would choose Gale over Peeta, which confirmed what we already knew: there was something off about her.

Five minutes later, Mrs. Freeman was bringing down smoothies—strawberry banana—with matching cocktail umbrellas peeking out from each of the glasses. I wiped the sweat from the side of my cup as she made her way back up the stairs and Mia and I called out our final thank yous in unison.

When we heard the soft creak of the door closing behind her, Mia turned to me—face bright and thoughtful—and asked, If you could switch places with anyone at school for one day, who would you choose? I took a sip of my smoothie. Mrs. Freeman made hers frothy, and chunks of frozen strawberry sat defrosting on my tongue. Sara Madden, I said. I want to feel what it’s like to be the most popular girl in school.

Mia considered this for a minute, cocking her head to the right, and then decided, I’d choose Tyler Roberts. I giggled, choking on my smoothie. The tang of sweat lingered on Mr. Freeman’s basement workout equipment, and I choked on that too. Why Tyler? I asked. The smoothie had started to give me a brain freeze, so I pressed my thumb against the roof of my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut.

Mia grinned, So I could figure out who he likes. This made me snort. Mia and I both had a crush on Tyler and his dark, curly hair. Neither of us had class with him, but we whispered feverishly to each other whenever he passed us in the hallway.

…

The completed version of this piece will be made available upon request.