Beck is dancing with Trish. Actually dancing. He’s loosened up now, shoulders moving, head tipped down to hear her over the music. She says something that makes him laugh, a real one, head thrown back for a second.
The sight punches something straight through my chest.
I slam my beer down, the table rattling.
“Kirsten,” I announce. “Let’s go find some trouble.”
Something New
Gracie
Age 16
Homecoming preparations last at least two weeks. Trips to the mall. A longer drive to the outlet stores an hour away. It’s sophomore year, and everything feels extra important because I’ve been nominated for homecoming queen. I’m pretty sure I won’t win, but I still want to look good standing on that stage with the other nominees, smiling like I belong there.
My dress is turquoise. The kind of blue that reminds me of waves breaking on a beach that I’ve only ever seen in pictures.
I pick it out with my friends, all of us laughing, passing dresses back and forth over the tops of the fitting room doors.
“Here, Judy.”
“This’ll look better on you, Karen.”
When I slip this one on and look in the mirror, I know. The hem hits just right. The neckline dips enough, but not too much. It feels like me, only braver. Prettier. I don’t offer it to anyone else. I just step out, let everyone ooh and ahh, and take it straight to the register.
That night, I put on a fashion show for my mom and Suzy at Beck’s house. They hold my hair out of the way while they zip me in, then run around grabbing different shoes for me to try.
“What do you think about these silver ones?” I ask—
—and that’s when the front door opens.
Beck steps in, still wearing his uniform from the burger joint where he works weekends. When he gets his paycheck, he gives it to his mom to put away for college. We’ve started talking about that recently. About getting out of here. Going to a city.
Tonight, he stops like he’s run into something solid.
Like the world has shifted in front of him.
“Whoa, Gracie,” he breathes.
Not teasing. Not loud. Just…awed.
Something heavy settles over the room, over my chest, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.
Time slows, stretches thin. I’m vaguely aware of our moms sitting on the couch. Of a dog barking down the street. But mostly I’m aware of him, one hand still on the doorknob, one foot suspended in the air, like there’s a spell he’ll break if he moves.
“Do you like it?” I swallow and do a small twirl, the skirt flaring softly around my legs.
I wait for his answer, my heart in my throat.
For the first time, I realize Beck isn’t just Beck.
He’s a boy.
And he’s looking at me like I’m something new.
Gracie
Present
