Girl at Heart

by Kelly Oram

  My stomach leaps up into my throat. I already knew this, but I was trying to deny it because I’m confused about Eric. There will be no more lying to myself now. I can’t stick my head in the sand, hoping to figure out my feelings any longer.

  I’m clearly freaking out over his confession, but Jace keeps his gaze steady on me. “I can be just your friend, if that’s what you need,” he says. “But I’d like to be your boyfriend.”

  He runs his fingers through my hair, draping the long locks over my shoulder.

  I can’t breathe. My lungs have forgotten how. I think maybe my heart has stopped, too. What do I do? I can’t think. Why can’t I process? My body and mind are a frozen mess. Why has this conversation sent me into a total panic? Is that supposed to happen?

  Jace watches me for a second, then nods as if I’ve answered some question of his. The understanding smile on his face never falters. “It’s too much right now.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “That’s okay. I can be patient. We’ll get you through this change in your life first before we worry about complicating things more. But I’m here for you, okay? No matter what.”

  His words are too perfect. They’re so much what I need to hear that I’m a little choked up. I’m so relieved and grateful to Jace that my throat closes up and my eyes start burning. When they gloss over and actually fill up with tears, Jace pulls me into his arms. I fall against his chest, and my body goes limp. My eyes close, and I just let Jace hold me. “It’s okay, Charlie. I’ve got you,” he murmurs. He kisses my temple, and the few rogue tears in my eyes spill down my cheeks. I sniffle, so he hugs me tighter.

  I don’t know how long we stand there. The noise in the hallway fades as people either get to their classes or to the cafeteria. I still haven’t said a word since Jace admitted he likes me. He told me he wants to be my boyfriend, and I had a panic attack. He must think I’m crazy. I am crazy.

  After what feels like a long time, my panic fades. My breathing evens out, and my heartbeat returns to a healthy pace. “You okay now?” Jace asks softly, rubbing small circles on my back. The touch is like magic.

  I don’t want to move. I want to stand here in his arms for the rest of the day. Maybe for the rest of time. But I have to face my friends, so I nod against his chest. He lets me go slowly, as if he’s as reluctant to end this moment as I am.

  I meet his gaze, and he gently wipes the evidence of my tears off my cheeks. “Come on,” he says, stepping back. “Let’s get in there and eat before lunch is over and we have to go practice on empty stomachs. That’s the worst.”

  I sniffle one last time and let out a giggle. “That is the worst.”

  Jace pauses and then holds his hand out to me again with a raised eyebrow. This time I know it’s only meant as a supportive gesture from a friend, and I clasp it greedily. I really need the anchor right now.

  As we enter the cafeteria, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Everything seems normal—just another day in high school. I don’t know 90 percent of these people, and they don’t bat an eyelash as I pass them holding Jace’s hand. It’s not until we near our lunch table that I start to feel heavy stares.

  Jace doesn’t let me slow my walk. He tugs me close and marches us right up to the table with confidence that I don’t feel. When we reach the table, the talking quiets, but then someone whistles and says, “Looking good, Hastings!” opening up the door for a slew of catcalls, whistles, taunts, and cheers from all of my teammates.

  I’m going to die from embarrassment. I just know it. I even wait a moment for my death to come. When it doesn’t, I suck it up and roll my eyes at the whole team. Time to fake it till I make it. If ever I needed to have confidence and put on a strong front, it’s now, or I’ll never live this transition down. The guys have to know that even though things are different, it’s still me. I’m still the girl they’ve been playing ball with for the last four years. They can still trust me to do my job. “You’re all hilarious. You’d think none of you have ever seen a girl before.”

  “We’ve never seen you as a girl before,” Cabrera teases.

  “Ha, ha.”

  Before I sit down, Eric is at my side. “Can I talk to you?”

  “Of course,” I say, startled by the question and the urgency behind it.

  Jace nods to us both and leaves to go sit beside Reynolds. Eric takes me by the elbow and moves us a few feet away from our friends. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He frowns at me. “Charlie, what in the world is going on with you?”

  There’s something in the tone of his voice that hurts. He’s angry, or he hates the new look, or something. He’s not happy. I match his frown and shrug in a way that’s both helpless and defensive. “Nothing’s wrong. I just needed a change.” Insecurity washes over me. I grab at my hair and bite my lips. I almost can’t raise my eyes to meet his when I quietly ask, “You don’t like it?”

  “Like it?” He shakes his head and throws his arms out at his sides. “I barely recognize you anymore. Quitting the team. Bailing on your friends—”

  “I didn’t actually quit,” I say, though it’s a weak argument because I actually did quit the team before I was talked into staying on. “And I missed one day. I took off one Sunday afternoon to go to the mall with a friend—”

  “Since when do you go to the mall?” he asks like it’s some kind of cardinal sin. “Or hang out with cheerleaders?” (Also said with a certain amount of disgust.) He huffs and waves his hand toward Jace. “You’re kissing guys in the parking lot.”

  My face turns bright red. It’s bad enough that he’s saying all this stuff, but in his heated state he’s getting louder and louder, and all the guys laugh and jeer at that last comment. Several of them congratulate Jace on his accomplishment. “He’s my friend, and he kissed my cheek,” I snap. “It’s not like we were making out or anything.”

  Eric is not moved by my defense. “And what’s all this?” He gestures to my outfit and flicks my hair. “Skirts and lipstick? Sparkly sandals? You look ridiculous!”

  I flinch. He may as well have slapped me in the face. Or punched me in the stomach. He definitely knocked the wind out of me.

  “I think she looks hot,” someone calls out, making me remember we’re not exactly having this conversation in private.

  Eric whirls on the guys and shouts, “It’s Charlie! She’s not supposed to look hot! She’s supposed to be one of us!”

  The team laughs, but I gasp and stagger back. Jace jumps up from the table and is at my back in a second. I don’t have to see his face to know that he’s glaring at my best friend. “Back off, Sullivan.”

  Eric’s eyes fill with horror as if he’s just realizing how much he insulted me. I don’t think he meant to make a scene any more than he meant to hurt me. His face pales at the sight of the tears in my eyes. “Charlie,” he pleads, shaking his head. “Don’t you see? This isn’t you.”

  I can’t speak. I’m not panicking this time; I’m just devastated. Eric Sullivan has just broken my heart.

  “Charlie.” Jace’s arms come around me, but I stagger away from him. I have to get out of here. I’m going to seriously lose it, but crying will only make things worse. The team will never respect me anymore if I start bawling in front of them. This is no place for Charlotte. Right now, I have to be tough tomboy Hastings.

  I say nothing. I break away from both of them, glare at Eric, and storm out of the cafeteria. The second I burst through the doors into the hallway, I let out a cry and gulp in a huge breath of air. My eyes brim over, and I run to the bathroom. The sobs hit me the second the bathroom door closes behind me. I hunch over the sink, bracing myself with one hand, the other clutching my heart because it hurts. I don’t think I’ve cried this hard since my mother died.

  I’m not alone two minutes before Leila bursts into the bathroom and wraps me up in a big hug. “Hey,” she says. “Shh, shh, shh. It’s going to be okay, Charlie. I’m here, okay?”

  Her comfort makes the floodgates bur
st all over again. Like now that she’s here, it’s okay to really let go. Leila isn’t going to judge me. She’s not going to think less of me for breaking down. “He hates it,” I sob. “He thinks I’m crazy.”

  Leila pulls me in so tight I can’t breathe. “Sweetie, he’s just surprised. He doesn’t understand. It’s a bit of a shock, but he’ll get used to it. Don’t let him ruin this good thing for you.”

  I pull back and sniffle. “Is it a good thing?”

  “Yes,” Leila says firmly.

  I hiccup, but at least the sobbing has stopped. “But he’s right. It’s not me.”

  Leila folds her arms and stares me down with a no-nonsense look. “Do you like it?”

  I want to say no, but something stops me. When I looked in the mirror this morning, I was excited. When I showed my father my hair and told him about the prom, I was happy. I had fun at the mall with Leila yesterday and was more comfortable than I have been in a long time. “Yes,” I whisper, sniffling again. “I like it.”

  “Then it’s you.” Leila hands me a tissue from her purse. I wipe my nose, and she turns me to face the mirror. She grips my shoulders and meets my gaze with steady reassurance. “You can be whoever you want to be, Charlie. If this makes you happy, then love it and don’t let anyone take it from you. Not even Eric.”

  I look at her in the mirror, standing over my shoulder with all the poise and confidence of a beauty queen. Will I ever be so sure of myself? “What if what I want to be is someone he could actually like? Like a girlfriend.”

  Leila freezes. She watches me for a long moment, then carefully says, “Eric?”

  I nod helplessly and wipe my wet cheeks with the back of my hand. “He’s never seen me as anything more than a friend.”

  Her expression stays neutral. “And that’s what you want? For Eric to see you as something more?”

  I start to say yes, but again, something stops me. Jace’s flirty smile and kind eyes flash through my mind. Then I remember Leila’s enthusiasm as she dragged me through the mall and her excitement when I joined her in singing my favorite song at the top of my lungs. I swallow hard. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t know anything anymore.”

  Leila’s face softens with sympathy. “This isn’t about Eric,” she says. “And it’s not about Jace, either.” She turns me to face her. “This is about you, and what’s in here.” She taps my chest right over my heart.

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

  “You’re not doing this for Eric,” Leila promises. She cracks a smile and adds, “And I’m not just saying that because Jace is my brother and he’s had the biggest crush on you since freshman year, and you guys would be so cute together.”

  A giggle bursts out of me, and I hiccup again. Leila grins and hands me one more tissue. “Now,” she says, opening her purse, “let me teach you about the magic of concealer, and then we’ll go back and sit at my table for the rest of lunch. I’ll introduce you to some of my friends.” She holds up her hand when I start to protest. “Trust me. Having a few girlfriends in your corner is a powerful thing, and you’re going to love it.”

  I smile at Leila, never more grateful for a friend in my whole life. “I already do.”

  Sitting with Leila at lunch, I feel eyes on me from across the room the entire time. I refuse to look. I’ll see Eric’s frown of disappointment and start crying all over again. Leila’s friends are really nice. It’s enough to distract me for the rest of lunch. I don’t eat much, though. I’ve lost my appetite.

  I leave the cafeteria early to avoid Eric. We usually walk to fourth hour together, but there’s no way I can talk to him right now. I’m so embarrassed. He doesn’t see me as dating potential, and he doesn’t think anyone else should, either. You look ridiculous. It’s Charlie. She’s not supposed to look hot.

  He must see my makeover as some desperate attempt to get boys’ attention. I must look so stupid to him. And he hates it. He didn’t tell me I looked nice; he freaked out and asked what was wrong with me. Because me acting like a girl is wrong. Because I’m supposed to be boyish Charlie Hastings.

  What’s so wrong with wanting to be a girl? I am a girl. He doesn’t hate other girls. He’s taking the prettiest one in school to prom. Why does she get to be hot and I don’t? Why does Eric get to date and go to the prom, but when I want to, it’s laughable? I just don’t understand.

  Eric zeroes in on me the second he walks into the classroom. I don’t look up when he sits in the desk behind mine. I pull out my notebook and start doodling in the margins.

  “Charlie.”

  I ignore him. I have to. If I make eye contact, I’m going to start crying.

  “Charlie, please. Just talk to me.”

  I pinch my eyes shut. The remorse and worry in his voice is too much. He doesn’t get to rip my heart out and then make me feel bad for him.

  “Why won’t you talk to me?”

  I whirl around, anger bubbling up from deep within me. “Because there’s nothing to say. This is me now. You don’t approve, and I’m not changing it. I’m not going to let you tear me down and make me feel like crap for wanting to look nice, or date, or have other friends besides you.”

  Eric leans forward and shakes his head. His eyes are a mix of frustration and hurt. “I’m not trying to tear you down. I’m worried about you. You shouldn’t have to change everything about yourself just to make some guy like you. If he can’t love you for who you are, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

  Does that mean you don’t deserve me? I wonder. What would he think if he knew I started this whole thing because he didn’t like me?

  “Don’t become someone you’re not,” he pleads. “Don’t ditch your real friends, who you’ve known your entire life, for some guy who just wants to get in your pants or because you want to be popular with the cheerleaders.”

  I suck in a breath. He’s just cut me up again. Does he really think I’m so shallow? “Why would Jace only want in my pants?” I whisper, my voice trembling as I fight the urge to cry. “Why can’t he genuinely like me? Just because you don’t look at me like that doesn’t mean no guy will ever like me. And why can’t Leila be a real friend? Why does wanting to be her friend mean I’m only chasing popularity? Am I so unlovable that only you, Diego, and Kevin could possibly have sincere feelings toward me?”

  Eric frowns. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yes, you did!” I snap. “And why does me being friends with them have to mean I’m giving up on you, Kev, and Diego? Can’t I be friends with all of you?”

  Eric rakes a hand through his hair. “Of course you can, but are they really your friends, Charlie, when they’re changing everything about you?”

  “I’m still me.”

  When he shakes his head, I close my eyes, fighting the sting of tears. “You don’t get it. You’ll never get it.”

  I turn back around and glare at my notebook.

  “Charlie. Charlie, come on. Charlie!”

  This time I ignore him. And I ignore him the rest of class. I’m so mad at him, and I’m so hurt by what he said. I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly my best friend has become toxic for me. I hope this isn’t the end of us, but I’m afraid we’re never going to be the same again.

  . . . . .

  I feel like crap the rest of the day. I see several guys from the team, and it’s super awkward. They all witnessed my fight with Eric at lunch, and they have no idea how to act around me anymore. As if Eric breaking my heart wasn’t enough, he had to ruin the one thing I love as much as him.

  After school, I get ready in my practice clothes and cleats, but when it comes time to leave the locker room, I just can’t do it. What’s waiting for me out on the field? Three pissed off best friends and a bunch of teammates who all think I’m going crazy? Have I just been fooling myself? Do I really look ridiculous, like Eric said? Does the whole team think I’m some desperate loser pretending to be something she’s not?

  Instead of heading out to p
ractice, I drop all my gear and sit down on the floor with my back against the lockers. I grab a baseball out of my bag and grip it like it’s a stress ball. I can’t do it. I can’t face them.

  I don’t know how long I sit there, but I know practice has started already. Still, I can’t make myself get up. I start throwing the baseball up and catching it.

  Suddenly, Jace’s voice calls out into the locker room from the door. “Hello? Charlie? Anyone?”

  I don’t answer him. I know he’s worried about me, and I know he’s been sent to check on me, but I don’t want to see him. I’m not mad at him at all, but I feel so stupid. He witnessed that fight between Eric and me. He heard all the cruel things Eric said. What does he think of me now?

  “Hastings, I’m pretty sure you’re in there. Come out, or I’m coming in.”

  I should go out there. I don’t move.

  Jace doesn’t come in, but my phone starts ringing. “31 Flavors of You.” The song I set as a ringtone for the King twins. Jace is calling me, and he can hear my phone ringing. Busted.

  “Charlie?” When I still don’t respond, he raises his voice and calls out loudly into the locker room. “Warning! Guy entering the girls’ locker room in 5…4…3…2…1…!”

  I’m not surprised when Jace follows through on his threat and comes into the girls’ locker room. He rounds the corner and says nothing as he sits down beside me on the floor. He leaves no space between us, sitting so that our arms are pressed against each other. Then he simply waits me out. It doesn’t take long. “You know, you could probably get suspended or something for being in here.”

  “Then you should get up and come to practice with me before someone catches me in here, because I’m not leaving without you.” He nudges my shoulder. “You promised you wouldn’t quit.”

  I sigh. “I’m not trying to. I just can’t make myself get up. I don’t know how I’m supposed to face everyone.”

  “Don’t do that,” Jace says with force. “Don’t let Sullivan kill your confidence. This morning you loved your new look. Since when do you care what anyone thinks?”