How It Feels to Fly(39)

“She’s always saying obnoxious things. To all of us.”

Dr. Lancaster doesn’t agree or disagree. She waits for me to continue.

“So how was I supposed to know if this time it was a compliment, not a joke?”

Still no response.

“Was I supposed to ignore her?”

“Why was her comment today so hard for you to ignore?”

“I guess because I’m . . . I’m sensitive about my”—I make a disgusted noise—“my butt. I don’t like it.”

“What if she had commented on something about your body that you do like? How might you have responded then?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“What’s something you like about your body?”

“Um. My feet?”

“Why?”

I slip out of my right sandal and point my foot to show her. “I have high arches and long toes, so that gives me a really nice line. My feet look good in pointe shoes.”

“Lovely. What’s something else you like about yourself?”

Now I pause. “I, uh—can I think about it for a second?”

“I want to try an exercise with you,” Dr. Lancaster says, after a few awkward moments of silence. “Make some lists for me: what you like and dislike about your body. And I want you to try something. Make the lists the same length. For every dislike, add a like.”

I’m not sure that’s even possible, but I don’t argue. I pick up my notebook and head for the door.





fourteen


THAT EVENING, AS A REWARD FOR A LONG, HARD, productive week, we all go into town.

If you can call it a town.

The small college campus where Perform at Your Peak is housed is about fifteen minutes away from a strip of cutesy shops and mom-and-pop restaurants that’s literally called Main Street. Andrew parks the van at one end of the road and we all pile out.

“So what’s the plan?” Zoe asks. “Meet you back here in a few hours?”

“No,” Dr. Lancaster says, taking Zoe by the arm. “You’re staying with me.”

“Oh, good.” Zoe nods. “Didn’t want this to be fun or anything.”

“We have dinner reservations at Loretta’s at seven o’clock. But since we’re early, I thought we could spend some time in the general store.”

“Yee-haw,” Zoe shouts. A couple walking by turns to stare. She waves and bows. “Don’t mind us. Just a few cra-a-a-zy kids out for a night on the town.” She turns to us and stage-whispers, “They don’t know you all are actually crazy!”

“Give it a rest,” Dominic says. He and Andrew start walking down the sidewalk. I grab Katie and follow, and then we’re all on our way.

Walking into the general store is like stepping into a time machine. There’s fishing equipment and mason jars of all different sizes and a whole section of overalls. Babies’ overalls and kids’ overalls and grown-ups’ overalls, in denim and camo print.

“Sam!” Katie models a Davy Crockett raccoon-skin cap. “How do I look?”

“Awesome,” I tell her. Weirdly enough, she’s making it work.

“You’re ready to kill a bear, for sure,” Omar chimes in.

“Ew,” Katie says. “What?”

“You know, the song?”

“Do you know what he’s talking about?” Katie asks me.

I vaguely remember learning a song about Davy Crockett in elementary school. “Kind of,” I say.

“Sing it, Omar!” Katie says. She’s flipped the hat so the tail is off to the side, draped over her shoulder, where she can pet it.

Omar clears his throat and launches into the first verse. His voice wavers at first but then comes out clear and strong and deeper than I’d expected. When he reaches the chorus, Yasmin appears next to him, harmonizing in a sweet soprano: “Davy, Davy Crockett! King of the Wild Frontier.”

Katie and I applaud, and from behind us, Dominic says, “Nice.”

While he sang, Omar stood tall. But the moment he stops, he shrinks. “Thanks,” he mutters, and then runs off to another part of the store. Yasmin follows him.

Katie and I find Jenna looking through a rack of T-shirts airbrushed in neon colors. “Do people really wear these?” she asks, running her fingers over a tie-dyed, pink-and-purple shirt that says “JEN!” across the chest. She looks up at Katie, eyes widening. “What is on your head?”

Katie pets her hat. “I’m totally buying this. And you should get that shirt.” She turns to me. “Sam, what are we going to get you?”

The challenge is on. We spend the next half hour looking for the weirdest things in the store. I reject the camo-print pashmina and hand the old-timey shaving kit to Dominic when he joins our hunt. Omar shows up wearing a straw fedora he says makes him look like Bruno Mars. And then we see the wall of aprons. Katie makes me try on a few before we settle on a blue flowered one trimmed with white ruffles.

I spin, holding the edges out. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect.”

I don’t look at myself in the mirror. I don’t want to ruin the moment. Instead, I look for Andrew. He’s at the front of the store, flipping through a coffee-table book about the Smoky Mountains.