The Missing Piece

by Jessica Baxter

  Danielle bumps into me in the hallway. “Hey, I was just coming to find you.” She takes in my outfit and breaks into a huge grin. “Wow! You’re HOT, Em.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “It’s nothing.”

  “Oh please!” She rolls her eyes. “You are a babe. Anyway, this is for you.” She thrusts a small box with a pink bow in my hands. I open it up and inside sits a replica of the necklace Ariel’s voice gets trapped in.

  “I know it’s cheesy, but after we first met I had the feeling we were going to be great friends, so I wanted to get something special and when I saw how much you loved Disney I thought these friendship necklaces would be perfect.” Danielle pulls at the chain around her neck and then glances at me nervously, “So, do you like it?”

  I fling my arms around her, pulling her into a hug. “Like it? I love it.”

  After we pull apart, I clasp my new necklace around my neck. Danielle looks at me hesitantly. “Is everything okay back home?”

  “Yes,” I say, biting my lip. “Well, no. My dad . . . he just likes to be in control and loses his temper when things don't go his way.”

  A shudder rips through Danielle. “He's not letting you talk to your mom?”

  “No.” I sigh. “He doesn't want me to upset her.”

  “That's ridiculous.”

  “Yeah, well,” I say, slowly. “He makes the rules.”

  “Screw his rules,” Danielle says, shaking her head. “From now on, if you want to talk to your mom, use my phone.”

  Her generosity takes me by surprise. A lump rises in my throat and I need to blink a few times to keep the tears at bay. I might not have Mads to talk to anymore, and Mason might have just discarded me as last week's smelly garbage, but as Mr. Allen's words echo in my mind, I know without a doubt that my friendship with Danielle is nothing like the friendship I had with Madison; it's a firm, constant, never-changing variable I know I can rely on completely.

  When we finally make it to the lounge, everyone’s already there. Even Ian and that surprises me.

  “Alright,” I smile weakly, “Let’s get this show on the road.” I much rather be sitting in my room working my way through my Disney DVD collection and stuffing my face with popcorn. But, I’m here and it’s my birthday and Ian is smiling at me.

  Did I mention that Ian is smiling at me?

  Wait.

  Mason’s email is still fresh in my mind. I need to slow down, he’s still with the Evil Queen and I don’t want to be anywhere near her.

  Ian walks over to me. “Glad you could join us.” His dopey grin fills me with giddiness and my heart beats rapidly in my chest, the way a child feels riding a bike without training wheels for the first time.

  “Cute,” he says as he reaches out and lightly touches the seashell on my necklace. “Like The Little Mermaid?”

  Ian’s fingers brush against my neck and I suddenly feel like I’m Ariel on new legs.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “So, what should we see?” I ask an hour later as my friends and I walk across the Santa Monica Pier towards Santa Monica 7.

  Danielle shoots me a pleading glance, biting her lip. “Uh. I actually have to leave after dinner. Big French test tomorrow, but we should have a Grey's marathon soon?”

  “Absolutely! I'll bring popcorn.”

  She flings her arms around me and gives me a giant hug. “Happy Birthday, Emily. Don't do anything too crazy,” she says, winking at me and then heads back towards the parking lot.

  Danielle is the only person I know who would take French IV for fun. She has been stressing about her Yale application since the beginning of the year, rewriting her essay every chance she gets and taking any electives she can. The school has the best French program, aside from going to France, and it’s the only school she’s interested in.

  I doubt she’ll have any problems, though. Her grades have been perfect since she’s started at Baldwin Hill Academy—she hasn’t received anything less than an A-minus. The teachers love her, and half of the staff has already promised to write her letters of recommendation, plus she’s joined like every club known to man; she’s on the yearbook committee, debate team, math club, and is running for senior class president. Seriously though, she has nothing to worry about, and I’m sure any college would be lucky to add her to their enrollment list.

  I mailed my college applications in two weeks ago, but haven’t given it much thought since. I’m not sure if I even want to go to college with my mom’s condition. What if something happens? It already feels like I’m walking on pins and needles. I’ve applied to a few schools in the US, but most of my applications are for foreign colleges—I want to get out and see the world, but I’m not sure I can handle being away from my mom much longer. And, Emory University is starting to look better each day. I mean, it has one of the best creative writing programs in the US. And, I've always wanted to visit Atlanta. Besides, that's where Ian applied.

  “Well . . .” I glance at Ian, Liam, and Calliope. “I'm okay with whatever you guys want to watch.”

  “It's your birthday,” Calliope says. “You should be the one to pick.”

  “Actually, Cal,” Liam says, shooting Ian a quick glance. “I totally spaced, but we have that thing tonight and we really can't get out of it.”

  “What thing?”

  “You know the thing,” Liam says, giving her a meaningful look, but she looks as if she has no idea what he's talking about. I glance at Ian. He's smirking like he's trying to keep from laughing. Liam shakes his head and grabs her hand. “Come, on.”

  “Where are we going? I thought we were going to—oh!” Calliope gasps.

  “Honestly, women.” Liam laughs as they walk away. “I don't know what I'm going to do with you.”

  "You could have told me what was going on.” She bumps into him with her hip and he wraps his arm around her waist.

  “Where's the fun in that?” He asks as they turn the corner and disappear from view.

  “So,” Ian says, rubbing his hands over his jeans. “Uh, did you know, they filmed Forrest Gump here.”

  He gestures to the pier with his hands.

  “Really?” I heard that films like the Hannah Montana Movie and Titanic, were recorded here, but I never imagined anything but touchy-feely chick flick movies would be recorded here. Forrest Gump has it’s chick flick moments, sure, but it is more comedic than anything.

  “Yeah.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “There’s a Bubba Gump Shrimp Company Restaurant on the pier, that’s actually owned by the company that produced the film.”

  Ian is like a walking encyclopedia.

  He loves everything about history, and usually has a random fact or two stored in his back pocket, ready to pull out whenever an opportunity presents itself. I guess his love of history comes from growing up in a country that’s dripping with a history so rich, it’s starting to spill over the edge.

  Sure, America has its own unique history, but nothing can compare to the deep history of England that’s been around for thousands of years. Plus, I love the way his random factoids always seem to leave me hanging in awe, always wanting more. There’s never a dull moment with him around and I love that about him.

  Ian stops at a gigantic wooden carousel, with bright lights and painted white and brown horses. Then he looks at me. Calliope and Liam pass us, “See you later,” Calliope calls cheerfully. Liam glances over his shoulder, giving Ian a knowing look and then nods.

  Ian winks and smiles “Make a wish.”

  “Uh, E-excuse me?”

  Why am I always fumbling over my words when I’m with him? It’s like my brain doesn’t know how to act around Wonder Boy or something.

  “Well,” he shoves his hands in his pockets. “After the . . . uh . . . the carousel burnt down in the 70’s they had to rebuild the pier. The construction workers working on the carousel started a protest because they weren’t being paid enough and um . . . the city of Los Angeles shut down the project, leaving the carousel a
lmost unfinished.”

  Oh my gosh. Is he nervous? WHY is he nervous?

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  The carousel is gorgeous. The amount of detail painted onto each horse makes it feel like the carousel is almost alive somehow. Ian shrugs his shoulders, starts walking around the carousel, and I quickly follow.

  “Well, it turns out the city wasn’t able to er . . . hire more workers to finish the project and the city really needed the money from tourists,” Ian says, pacing back and forth in front of the carousel. “So the mayor balled up a bunch of plastic bags together and taped them onto this horse’s back hoof, and now it’s lucky. So, make a wish.”

  Ian speaks so quickly it takes me a moment to process what he’s said. He laughs loudly.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to talk so fast. Are you going to make a wish?”

  He looks at me expectantly.

  “Uh.”

  Ian smiles again. “All you have to do is rub the plastic bag hoof.” He explains and points to the muddy brown horse’s oddly shaped back hoof again.

  “Oh. Okay.” I mumble and start rubbing the plastic hoof. “I wish I—”

  “Wait!” He rushes forward. “Don’t you know anything about wishes? You can’t say your wish out loud.”

  “Ian,” I say, pushing his shoulder. “I doubt I’ll be struck down with lightning for saying my wish out loud.”

  He ignores the dig. “Maybe, not. But I don’t think you should mess with the wishing fates. Just say it in your head, okay?”

  I close my eyes and nod.

  If Ian had brought me here a month ago, without hesitating, I would have wished to be back in Cedar Heights surrounded by my family and Mason. All I wanted from the moment I stepped off the plane at LAX was for nothing to change. The mere idea of everything going back to normal and stepping back into my everyday routine in Cedar Heights was enticing, desirable.

  Now, I'm not so sure what I want.

  I've come to like Los Angeles. Even though it sucks being away from Sammy and my mom, it's a lot more bearable. My heart still longs for Ohio, but a piece of my heart also wants to be in Los Angeles, too.

  I bite my lip, nervously.

  Ian's probably wondering why I haven't made a simple wish yet or maybe he thinks I'm taking this “wish thing” way too seriously.

  Wishes don’t come true. Mason's voice says, cold and calculating. His words slam against the sides of my skull, viciously. You'll never find your Happily Ever After. Fairy-tale endings don't exist, Em.

  No. My nails dig into my palm. Mason does not control me anymore. He doesn't have the power. As soon as I think the words, an uncanny sense of ease fills me.

  Just like the Genie felt when he was no longer bound to the lamp, I feel freedom coursing through my veins now. I no longer feel tied down, tethered to Mason, unable to choose for myself. Instead I feel light and carefree and for the first time I feel almost . . . I rack my brain, trying to find the right word; Happy seems a little too far-fetched, but maybe—

  I squeeze my eyes tighter and start rattling off Disney princess names in my head. The plastic hoof is cold and rough as I rub my hand across it. I chant I wish for happiness three times, hoping and believing this little mantra will somehow fix all my problems.

  When I open my eyes again, Ian is staring at me, a dazzling smile on his lips. “So, what’d you wish for?”

  “You said it’s bad luck to say the wish out loud.”

  “Just testing you.” He smiles and then nudges my shoulder. “Come on.”

  The theater is dark as Ian and I find our seats. It bums me slightly that Calliope, Liam, and Danielle can't be here, but as I slump down into the navy blue chair I can't help the excitement bubbling up inside of me. My heart constricts in my chest as Ian slides into the chair next to me. His leg rests against mine. He doesn’t move it and I feel like I can’t breathe.

  Should I be sitting this close to him?

  I put my hands in my lap and instead try to guess what movie we'll be watching. Ian insisted on buying the tickets and making it a surprise, so I have no idea what we're seeing. He leans towards me, whispering in my ear. “Do you want the armrest?”

  His warm breath tickles my neck and causes my heart to speed up. I shake my head, pulling my legs up on the chair and resting my head on top of my knees.

  Advertisements from different businesses fill the screen. Ian nudges my side. I glance up and he’s staring at me, again.

  “What?” I ask, slightly irritated. He can’t just give me the look whenever he pleases. “Popcorn stuck in my teeth?”

  Ian throws his head back in laughter. When he finally calms down he says, “No.” He pulls a small silver box from his pocket and then points to the theater screen.

  My face flushes as I read the message displayed for all the world to see . . . well, at least everyone in our theater.

  Happy Birthday, Emily.

  The girls sitting in the same row as us whisper under their breath. “That is so romantic.”

  “I wish my boyfriend would do something like that for me.” Another girl gushes.

  “Happy Birthday, Emily,” Ian says handing me the box.

  “Thanks.” I breathe. My heart races. He got me something for my birthday when he didn’t have too. Ian got me a gift. And, he wrote that message for everyone to see.

  That must mean something right?

  I slowly untie the bow and lift the lid to the box. Inside sits the small elephant pin, I pointed out to Ian weeks ago in a shop’s window as we were walking through downtown Los Angeles. A lump rises in my throat. I can’t believe he remembered. “It’s—it’s perfect.”

  The past few weeks have been a little rocky and Mason's email didn't have me in the best mood earlier, but today's the best birthday I've had in a long time. I thought I'd feel sad and depressed after receiving Mason's email, but all I feel is . . . relief.

  A whisper of a smile spreads across my lips as I recall when Aladdin finally wishes the Genie free and he's so excited and thrilled, the Genie asks Aladdin to wish for the Nile just so he can say no. My mind feels at ease knowing that my relationship—can it even be called that?

  Whatever, it was that I had with Mason is over.

  The Disney castle fills the screen and my heart soars. The audience goes quiet and the movie starts. Ralph, the main character, goes to a BAD-ANON meeting with other villains from popular video games. He tells the group he wants to be a good guy, the ghost from Pac-man flat-lines. Bowser coughs up the fire, Ian laughs and I can’t focus on the movie playing in front of me.

  I’m aware of every shift Ian makes in his chair. I can smell the mixture of his laundry detergent and cologne. He smells like vanilla, oak trees, and Tide detergent. He moves his leg and it brushes against mine. My heart starts beating rapidly and I’m certain no one can hear the movie. I glance at Ian’s hand resting on the armrest. His hands make mine look tiny.

  The sudden electricity that flows through me feels amazing. How is it possible for me to be more aware of him? I turn back towards the screen and try to focus on what’s going on, but I can’t. Not when he’s sitting so close to me and his leg is resting against mine.

  His hand is inches from mine. Every inch of my body is tingling, demanding I reach out and touch him. I cross my arms tightly across my chest, balling my hands into fists, fighting the urge to grab his hand and intertwine his fingers with mine. Ian’s thoughtfulness earlier surprised me. I can’t believe he remembered the pin and even though I was slightly mortified by the birthday message, it was a very cute gesture. It’s almost funny, how differently he contrasts Mason.

  Being with Mason felt like being a tightrope walker in a grand circus. It felt like I always needed to be cautious of what I said or how I acted so I didn’t offend him, but with Ian things are different. He takes me for who I am and doesn’t try and mold me into something that I’m not . . .

  Mason wanted me to be the type of girl who gets giddy watching him score the wi
nning touchdown at the football game, but as much as I tried, I could never be that girl, and I'm not even sure I want to be that girl. He's the only boy I've ever dated. I've never known anything different than Mason and his football-star-center-stage attitude. But, Mason and I are complete opposites, the only thing we have in common is that we come from the same hometown.

  We are like two magnets, with different magnetic fields, being forced together.

  Impossible and useless.

  However, with Ian things feel refreshing and new. He makes me feel like I could take on anything in the world and succeed. And, while I never know what's going to happen when I’m with Ian, I can't deny the chemistry and compatibility I feel towards him. He might not be obsessed with Disney or constantly have a book in his hands like I do, but he is just as much a nerd as I am. He’s always making me laugh, whether it’s from him quoting the College Humor Batman videos or imitating a Disney princess. And, I do love his unpredictable and spur-of-the-moment personality.

  At first, I thought I could never be attracted to someone that has so much in common with me, but maybe that's been the problem. Mason and I couldn't be more different, and, while Ian and I have our differences, we have a lot more in common than I realized.

  A smile spreads across my lips . . . I've never thought about it before, but maybe I've been a sucker for nerds this whole time.

  And, if there was ever an award given for being a nerd Ian would win hands down. My smile deepens. Does he own a Batman costume? I bet he’d look adorable fleshed out like the Dark Knight. Heat rises to my cheeks as I imagine the way the material would tightly mold to his figure.

  My eyes linger on his hand.

  I want to touch him. And, not in the playful, we’re just friends way, but I want to really touch him. I want to lace my fingers through his, run my hands through his hair, and I really, really want to lean in and kiss his perfectly curved lips. He shifts and I get the feeling that he’s just as aware of me, too. I can’t breathe. . . Ariel, Aurora, Belle, Cinderella, Jasmine, Mulan. I force myself to look at the screen, and I’m surprised that I have no idea what’s going on. Ralph is talking to a little girl and making a racing car out of chocolate.