by Donna Cooner
Jesse stands nearby in his Superman cape, his silver homecoming prince crown dangling from one hand. He’s almost close enough to touch if I were to step toward him, yet there’s so much space between us. We’re a million miles apart.
A winner’s glow lights up his face, erasing all the troubled signs from this morning. He shoulders his way through the crowd, bumping fists and accepting congratulations for tonight’s victory. Everybody adores him—from the way he smiles to the way he moves across the room. My dark side whispers in my ear and, for a minute, I feel a seething rage at how oblivious he is to my revenge. I put my heart and soul into my charade and he walks through the room untouched.
Was it worth it?
I swallow hard. It’s bittersweet. I stand there like a rock in the middle of a white-water river—the bubbling excitement of the crowd a contrast to my mood.
“There you are.” Grace stands in front of me with Owen. “We’ve been looking for you.”
“I blend in,” I say, wishing it were true but knowing it never will be.
“They’re going to make the announcement,” Owen says, his eyes on the stage.
The homecoming king, Josiah Brown, adjusts his gold foil crown on his head and steps up to the microphone. He taps at it a couple of times and someone stops the music. The excited roar of the crowd lessens to a rumble.
Josiah leans down from his six-foot-plus height to reach the mic stand. “Hello out there!” he says in his best news anchor voice. “I know you guys are not here tonight to see me.”
There is scattered laughter. Someone shouts from the back of the room, “You know it!” And there is more laughter.
Josiah quiets the rowdy crowd again, then continues, “But I’m the lucky one who gets to introduce our guest of honor. Help me welcome our most famous graduate ever …”
The DJ plays a drumroll and the crowd draws in one big collective breath.
Oh my God. Somehow I forgot all about Lexi. But it’s really happening. She’s here!
Josiah shouts into the microphone, “Lexi Singh!”
When Lexi appears onstage, everyone erupts into cheers. In person, she is larger than life even though she is only five feet tall. Her thick black hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that swishes from side to side as she walks toward the microphone. She wears cute peg pants in a black-and-white check paired with a black turtleneck and black high-top Converse All Stars. Everything about her is perfect. I clap as hard as I can.
Lexi bounces up to the microphone, grins widely, and holds up her hands to quiet the noise. The silence is almost immediate.
“I want to thank everyone for coming out this evening. It’s so great to be back home in Fort Collins.” She beams at the audience.
Cheers again.
“You all look great,” Lexi says, then laughs at the enthusiastic response. “I’m ready to meet my special mentees back here in the coach’s office in thirty minutes. And don’t be late!”
She motions to the door at the back of the gym. I wait, a nervous smile on my lips. The floor stretches in front of me like a huge crevasse and I am so close to falling, I lean against the wall for support. I want this so bad I can hardly breathe.
Lexi goes on. “I loved watching all those ChitChat videos. Didn’t you?”
That gets a big round of applause from even the students who didn’t turn in videos.
“It was so hard to choose the winners. We have three.” Lexi holds up three fingers for emphasis. There is a collective gasp across the room and I can almost see everyone scoot forward a step toward the stage. “And I really wish it could have been more.”
My heart is pounding and my palms are clammy. This is it.
“The first winner is your amazing senior class president, Divinity Gates.” There is a burst of applause and I hear Divinity shriek with joy. Lexi holds one hand over her eyes and peers into the lights. “I can’t wait to talk to you, Divinity.”
“Same here!” Divinity yells back. Everyone laughs.
Lexi checks her phone. “Next is … Dezirea Davis.”
Squeals of delight ring out from the corner. I turn around to see Dezirea hugging Bella. I’m happy for her. She deserves it.
“And last but certainly not least …” Lexi pauses.
Grace reaches for my hand and squeezes it tight.
“Another sophomore …”
I breathe. My heart beats. But I’m not inside my body anymore.
“Maisie Fernandez.”
I feel my eyes go wide. I can’t believe it. Lexi really said my name.
“It’s you, Maisie!” Grace says, grabbing me in a hug.
I forget all about Jesse and Sienna. Grace and I jump up and down, screaming and hugging each other. My heart pounds rapid and crazy. It’s a life-changing moment.
Like fate.
When I get back to the coach’s office, a girl with outrageously, no-way-it-is-possibly-real red hair looks at me. Her badge says HELLO! MY NAME IS SUMMER in big blue letters. She is holding a clipboard and has a Bluetooth earpiece that she taps at periodically.
“Are you Maisie?” Summer asks me.
I nod, pulling the Catwoman mask off so she can see me better.
“I’m Lexi’s assistant.” She looks at her list, then back at me. “It says here that Lexi wants to talk to you.”
I nod again, enthusiastically.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” Summer motions toward a couple of empty chairs by the door and taps at her earpiece. “Lexi’s with …” She looks down at her clipboard. “Divinity right now, but you’re up next.”
I perch carefully on the chair, biting my lower lip nervously. There’s no sign of Dezirea yet.
Divinity comes out of the office, grinning widely, and Summer waves me in.
“Your turn,” she says with a perky fake smile.
I stumble toward the office door, my brain in a fog. I’ve dreamed of this happening so many times. My heart is going fast and loud. Is this real?
Lexi sits at the tiny desk across from the door. She looks up when I enter and smiles. It’s like a spotlight is shining down on her thick black hair, illuminating her brilliance. This is my chance. Now or never. I make my way forward. Then I’m there, standing in front of her.
“Hey,” she says, looking up at me. “I’m Lexi.”
“I—I know,” I stammer. I don’t know whether I’m scared, or nervous, or just plain terrified. But there’s no going back now.
“Come over and sit down.” She motions to the chair across from her. I manage to take the few steps and perch on the edge of the seat.
I gather my courage and find my voice. “My name is Maisie and I want to draw.”
Duh. It sounds stupid. So simplistic.
“Cool.” Lexi’s smile is warm and inviting. “Yes, I remember the comic strip you showed in your ChitChat video. I’d like to see some more of your work.”
She remembers!
“Um. Sure.” I pull my phone out of my back pocket and pull up one of my drawings. It’s a sketch of Dezirea at her party. “You can scroll from here. This is my album of drawings on my phone.” Lexi takes my phone and acts like she doesn’t notice my shaking hands.
Lexi studies the first drawing, her brows furrowing. I wait. Her fingers magnify the image quickly. Then she slides her finger around on the screen to look at every angle. More silence. Finally she looks up and meets my eyes.
“Do you really want to know what I think?” she asks matter-of-factly.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, nodding. I can hardly choke out the answer. “More than anything.”
“Do you really want my opinion, or for me to just say something nice?”
“I want to know the truth.”
Lexi nods, pushing her black hair over one shoulder. She looks from the drawing back to me.
“You’re very talented.”
The relief is intense. She likes it.
Lexi Singh thinks I’m talented.
My hands are s
till shaking, but now I’m smiling.
I wait while Lexi scrolls through a few more of my pictures. A minute passes. Then a few more. Her face gives nothing away. “Can you work with a variety of graphic software, such as Adobe’s Photoshop and Illustrator, and Made With Mischief?” she asks.
I nod.
“A Wacom tablet is also a must-have.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I say.
“Do you have a personal website?”
I shake my head.
“You need one. But I’d also suggest you take a look at some other sites like Reddit, Imgur, Tapas, or Webtoon, just to name a few. Find other people who share your passion and study what they do.”
“Thanks,” I say again. This advice is awesome.
Finally, Lexi looks up and clears her throat. “You’re really good. I see a lot of myself in your work.”
My head buzzes. This is everything I’ve been dreaming of hearing. I can’t believe it.
“I … wow,” I manage to say. “Thank you. That means so much.”
“But …” Her voice trails off and my world ends. Panic freezes the smile on my face.
“I don’t see you.”
What?
My expression must show how confused I feel.
Lexi takes a deep breath and puts her palms down on the table in between us, leaning in to look straight into my eyes.
“Do you want to do this?” Lexi asks.
I nod. “I can’t see myself doing anything else.”
“Then listen. The things you’ve shown me are good, but they are not good enough.”
The walls of my dream start to crumble before my eyes.
“I think you’re incredibly talented, but you need to dig deeper,” Lexi goes on. “Find your own voice. Your own style.”
I try to say “okay,” but no sound comes out.
“When an artist goes out into the world, she doesn’t see things the same way as everyone else. It’s that difference—that uniqueness—that matters. And in that uniqueness is a deep truth.” Lexi pauses. “I don’t see that truth in your drawings. Not here.” She taps my phone. “Not yet.”
There are tears in my eyes. I blink and they roll down my cheeks. There is no use in wiping them away.
“Truth?” I whisper.
Lexi nods. “I want to see what’s true. Be yourself. Nobody else can.”
I’m not even embarrassed that Lexi Singh sees me crying. I just mumble thank you, take my phone back from her, and get to my feet. I don’t remember stumbling back into the crowded gym, almost bumping into Dezirea, who’s waiting at the door to come inside.
Lexi Singh doesn’t think I’m good enough.
I’m not enough. It’s over for me. My dream is dead.
My brain feels fuzzy and disconnected from my body. Music and people surround me, but I’m standing all alone in a bubble of disappointment. I showed Lexi what I was capable of, but she didn’t like my drawings. All I can think of are her comments. So cruel and cutting. She said she didn’t see truth in my drawings. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am a fake.
The string of lights draped across the basketball goals glow into life for a slow song. People mill around the dancing couples, talking and laughing. I lurk in the back behind a group of theater kids, desperately wanting to leave, but seeing no sign of Ant-Man or the Wasp.
I see Dezirea and Camila chattering away over by the refreshment table. Dezirea does a quick twirl and I can tell she’s happy about her conversation with Lexi. If I were Sienna, I would congratulate her. Instead, I just watch her slip an arm through Camila’s and say something that makes them both throw back their heads and laugh. They start toward the bleachers, blowing kisses into the air over their shoulders like true stars.
I guess it’s good someone is happy about something. I stumble toward the door to the hallway, my thoughts a jumble of disappointment. Forget finding Owen and Grace. Maybe I should just go home. The night can’t get any worse from here.
“Maisie!”
I look up at the shout. At the door is an all-too-familiar face.
Claire.
She waves me over excitedly. “Oh. My. God. So … this dance is amazing! I heard you were picked to meet Lexi Singh.”
In shock, I just go into her open arms and let her do her hug thing. It is useless to resist. “How did you get in?” I mumble.
She holds me at arm’s length and peers into my face. “I found Divinity on ChitChat and sent her a message. She left an extra pass for me at the door. Can you believe it?”
I look at Claire—Sienna—no, Claire. And all my schemes suddenly seem so stupid. My creation is in front of me, but she isn’t me at all. No amount of spite, desire, or loneliness can justify what I’ve done. I can’t even remember what is good anymore. I want to tell Claire to leave, to hide, to run away. But I can’t move my mouth.
And then things get even worse.
“Sienna!”
My head jerks around. Jesse is walking toward me, waving. He is smiling, but he isn’t looking at me.
He’s looking at Claire.
My heart starts hammering and my stomach clenches. There is no way this will end up okay. Jesse isn’t looking in my direction and I think I can probably slip out the door before he notices me. But then I see his face, his eyes wide and stunned, staring across the room. He looks surprised, but happy.
Everything is wrong, especially me.
Stay where you are, I think, as if I can send a silent message to Jesse. Don’t come any closer.
But he keeps approaching Claire.
I want to jump in between the two of them and stop everything from happening. Instead, I watch him bridge the distance and get closer to Claire. The whole scene seems to be moving in wobbly slow motion, but I can’t stop watching.
“Sienna?” The sound of his voice makes me feel ill. “What are you doing here?”
Claire looks at him with raised eyebrows and a vague smile. “Sorry?”
Jesse’s grin wavers. “Are you kidding? It’s me. Jesse.”
Claire squints at him. “I don’t know you.”
Jesse frowns. “What’s going on?” For the first time, he glances at me. “Do you know Maisie?” he asks Claire, looking back and forth at both of us.
So many questions. So much confusion. I need to leave now. Get out of here. But it’s too late.
“Of course I know Maisie,” Claire says. “But I don’t know you.”
Jesse shakes his head slowly, then rakes a hand through his hair in frustration.
“I don’t get it,” Jesse says to Claire. “We’ve been talking on ChitChat.”
Claire shakes her head while I remain frozen. “No we haven’t. You must have me confused with someone else.”
There’s a moment of silence and then Jesse’s eyes lock on mine, his square-cut jaw tight. He’s starting to piece things together. A crack shoots through my chest. I should feel guilty, but instead I just feel panic crashing over me so hard I want to scream. My mind desperately scrambles for a way out, but every path my brain follows ends up going off a cliff. Happy endings in this story don’t exist.
I stand there beside Jesse and Claire, but it’s like I am far away down a long dark tunnel. Their voices blur into incomprehensible sounds. I hear Claire’s confusion as she says something else to Jesse. He says something back, then shakes his head slowly, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He taps on the screen and holds the phone out for her to see. The conversation continues, more animated and more intense. They are talking about me.
Saying horrible things.
True things.
Claire looks up at Jesse. Then they both look at me. Suddenly, they stop talking. Claire points at me, her hand shaking, and it’s like her finger keeps me frozen in place. “You posted my pictures … as you?” Her face crumples. “How could you?”
I glance at Jesse, and his face looks stricken. “It was you the whole time,” he says quietly.
Suddenly, Camila is there, and then Hunte
r … and Graham … and Dezirea. They are all listening and talking to Claire, to Jesse.
The story … my story … is spreading across the gym like wildfire. People are staring and pointing. At me.
My whole house of lies crashes down around me, the pain and panic ricocheting through my body. I have no one to blame but myself. I turn and run. I’m not sure where I’m going, but I have to leave.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Then buzzes again. And again. But I don’t stop to look. I dash out of the school and into the cold night. Finally, I reach the student parking lot. I find my car, slide into the driver’s seat, and slam the door behind me, slumping down behind the wheel. It feels safe and hidden. Like my life used to be before I ruined everything. My hands tremble on the wheel and I try to catch my breath. I sit there, back in my old skin. I thought of my body as a horrible disguise, with my real self hidden somewhere inside, somewhere no one could see. The truth is my body is me. I’m not a shape-shifter or a superhero.
I’m just a super freak.
I start driving without thinking of where I should go. Where can I go? I’m not ready to go home yet. I’m alone, and it’s all my fault. My pain is mine. No one caused it but me. I want someone who knows me to tell me I’m okay. Only I’m not.
I drive to the only place I can think of—the Thinking Bench. Owen stands there, almost like he’s been waiting for me.
I park my car, then get out and walk over to Owen.
“Where’s Grace?” I ask him.
“She’s still inside,” he replies. “I told her I wanted to talk to you alone.”
I swallow hard.
“Shall we sit down?” he asks formally.
“Yes.” I brace myself, and then I sit down on the bench.
He sits beside me, then sighs a disappointed kind of sigh that hurts my heart. I wait for him to say something first. He finally does, and it’s worse than I imagined.
“I heard a horrible rumor from some of the people at the dance. Is it true?”
