How It Feels to Fly(65)

I sneak back into my room and pick up the dark chocolate Hershey’s Kiss he gave me a week ago. I’ve kept it in the drawer in my nightstand this whole time. I peel away the delicate aluminum foil. I run my fingers over the chocolate’s smooth surface. I breathe in the sweet scent. And then, before I can think too much about calories or what time it is or anything else, I pop it in my mouth. I let it melt. Slowly.

I fall asleep with the forbidden taste of chocolate on my tongue.





twenty-three


THE NEXT MORNING, I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT Andrew. His eyes catching the moonlight. His bright smile turned intimate, like it was designed especially for me. His hands on my waist, our bodies pressed together. Did he feel the sparks I felt? Is he thinking about me the way I’m thinking about him?

And where do we go from here? What happens next?

Physically, I’m in the college’s theater, watching Omar stammer through a monologue onstage. Mentally—and emotionally—I’m still in that gazebo.

“Are we supposed to heckle him or something?” Katie asks from my left.

“There’s no way,” Jenna answers from my right.

“So how are we supposed to be involved in the challenge?” Katie whispers. “With everyone else’s, we all did stuff.”

“Not with mine,” Jenna answers. “You just watched me.”

“Oh yeah.”

They’re talking around me. Through me. Normally I’d hate it, but right now, I’m grateful. Andrew is a few rows in front of us, sitting with Dominic, and I’m enjoying admiring the back of his head.

“‘To be, or not to be—’” Omar intones from center stage.

“No, no, no!” One of the fake scouts from Dominic’s challenge is now playing a theater director, calling instructions at Omar from the audience. “More introspective.”

Omar repeats the line once. Twice. Three times. He starts pacing. Rubbing his head like it hurts. “I don’t know what you want. What am I supposed to do here? What do I do? I don’t know what to do!”

“Try taking a deep breath,” Dr. Lancaster coaches from the front row.

He gasps and then yelps, “‘To be, or not to be!’ Was that better?”

“It’s not about the quality of your acting,” Dr. Lancaster says. “It’s about how you feel in this moment.”

“Agh!” Omar moans, pacing faster. “I feel anxious! And this isn’t even real! Why am I anxious when this isn’t even real?”

Andrew turns to say something to Dominic. I trace his profile with my eyes.

I want to dance with him again. I want to do more than that.

Back in the Dogwood Room an hour later, Dr. Lancaster asks us what we’re most nervous about, when it comes to leaving here. My first thought: not seeing Andrew every day. And yeah, I know I have bigger concerns than that. But after last night . . .

Jenna starts talking about her upcoming competitions. “Regionals and Sectionals are in just a few months,” she says. “I didn’t break the top five at Nationals last year, so I have to make top four at Sectionals to qualify this year, and the competition—it’s a tough field.” She shakes her head. “I’m seventeen. There are girls Katie’s age who are hitting their routines more consistently than I am.”

“You made it to Nationals last year,” Katie says.

“And then I fell on three jumps in my long program, in front of a bunch of TV cameras,” Jenna says, her voice turning bitter. “You saw the footage.”

“So this season, you’ll take things one event at a time,” Dr. Lancaster says patiently. “You won’t make Nationals into a dark specter that’s looming in the distance. You’ll focus on yourself and not your competitors. You’ll remember to trust your training. And you’ll breathe.”

“Of course I will,” Jenna says. She reaches up and yanks her ponytail tighter.

“Why don’t we spend some time before lunch crafting power statements?” Dr. Lancaster looks around at the group. “Power statements are mantras you can tell yourself when you’re having a rough time.” She starts writing ideas on the whiteboard.

“I have what it takes!”

“I’ve worked hard to get here!”

“I always do my best!”

“The most important thing is to try!”

When she sends us away with our notebooks, I chase after Andrew. “Want to take a walk? Help me brainstorm?”

“Sure.”

We start across the lawn. We pass the gazebo and head down the path into the woods until we reach the lake. In the late-morning light, the water is a clear, vivid blue. There are ducks and geese calling, and in the distance, I can see people canoeing.

Andrew walks to the end of the dock and sits, feet hanging toward the water. “We should sneak back out here tonight,” he says. “It’s supposed to rain every night next week, so this might be our last chance.”

“I’d love to.” I sit next to him. “Same time and everything?”

“Yeah. Can you rally the troops?”

I nod.

“So let’s brainstorm. Do you want your power statement to be something about your performance? Or how you look?”