The Art of Falling

by Jenny Kaczorowski

  Survivor’s guilt, her therapist called it, but to her, it was just part of her identity. Something she carried with her each and every day.

  She’d survived. Mom hadn’t.

  The burden of doing something to make her worthy of surviving weighed on her until she felt it in every breath, every step she took.

  She ventured into her room and pulled on a tank top. Without her hoodie, the scar stood out bright and shiny against her porcelain white skin.

  With a tilt of her chin, she tossed her hoodie onto her bed and marched out the front door. If hiding it hadn’t made it go away in six years, it wasn’t going to that day either.

  “Where’s my coffee?” Abby said. She sat on the trunk of her Civic, futzing with her makeup.

  “Did you actually get here early?” Bria asked, throwing her bag into the back seat and handing over a steaming travel mug.

  “I rushed to get here so you wouldn’t be late. Thin ice with your dad and Principal Erikson and all that.” She settled into the driver’s seat. “Don’t you see how I rushed my hair?”

  “Not really.”

  Abby narrowed her eyes. “You look different today. I totally get the no hoodie thing, since it’s wicked hot, but seriously. What’s up?”

  Bria flipped down the visor and peered at her reflection while Abby backed down the driveway. “I don’t know. I guess I’m sick of being me.”

  “Okkkkaaaay.” Abby drew out the word and raised her eyebrow. “You know you’re kind of awesome, right?”

  “Maybe not me, me, but the image everyone else sees. The hair and the makeup and the boots. Do you know how heavy these things are? I wore flip flops the other day and they were like heaven.”

  “So, major identity crisis. I get it.”

  Bria slammed the visor back up against the roof of the car. “Do you?”

  Abby turned down the stereo. “Do you know why I obsess over stupid crap like my hair and makeup? Because I’m terrified of the day I have to start caring about real stuff. I am scared shitless. There’s no way I’m ready to be a grown up. I get it.”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing any more.” She buried her head in her hands.

  “What do you mean?” Abby jerked her head around. “Did something happen with Pratt? Your portfolio?”

  “Eyes on the road,” Bria said, gripping her seat.

  “Sorry.” The school came into view and she slowed down.

  “I don’t know if I want Pratt any more,” Bria said. “And not just because the portfolio review is freaking me out. I just can’t put my soul on display for people to come and pass judgment on it any more.”

  “Where is this coming from?”

  Abby parked and Bria unclicked her seatbelt, swiveling to face her. “I don’t know. Talking with Ben, I guess.”

  “God, Bri. Really?” Abby crossed her arms.

  “Why can’t we all hang out like we used to? Why do we have to fit into these stupid little molds we make for ourselves? It’s all so claustrophobic.”

  “Ben’s my big brother and even I think he’s an idiot.”

  “And that’s my point.” Bria popped open the car door and grabbed her bag. The warm sun kissed her bare shoulders and she sighed, letting the rays soak into her skin.

  “What are you guys doing to each other anyway?” Abby said, hurrying to catch up.

  “What do you mean?” She dug around in her bag for a pencil to hold her hair up.

  “He came home yesterday looking all gutted. Ben has never looked like that in his life. He walked out of the womb knowing what he wants and how to get it. I get to be all moody and unpredictable, not him. That’s the deal.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe the guys on the team gave him a hard time about missing practice. Jake Moreno seemed pretty worked up about it.”

  Abby leaned against the locker next to Bria’s and shot her a look. “Yeah. Because he was with you.”

  “We worked on the mural. That’s it.”

  “Okay. Fine. But if you hurt my brother, I’ll burn your favorite brush.”

  Bria laughed and tucked her best set of Winsor & Newton Monarchs into her bag. “So much for being your best friend.”

  “Blood is thicker than water or some lame cliché like that.” She grabbed Bria’s hands. “Seriously. Ben is breakable, believe it or not.”

  “Once the mural is done, that’s it. We go back to normal. Ben goes back to whatever it is jocks do after school and you and I get to go back to our Buffy marathon.”

  Abby grinned. “Deal.”

  Bria let out the breath she’d been holding back and followed Abby down the hall. Her hand drifted toward the scar. It felt like a beacon, drawing the eyes of every student in the whole freaking school.

  “We’re about to start building sets for the musical,” Abby said. “You’re going to help with painting stuff again, right?”

  “Of course. What are you doing this year?”

  Abby stopped and glared at her, icy blue eyes crackling. “Have you been listening to me in lunch at all?”

  “Ummm…”

  “The Secret Garden. I’m stage manager. That’s like, the hugest thing ever in my life.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know how I missed that.”

  “Whatever. We can’t all have awards and scholarships and meaningful protests like you.”

  “Abs. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. We’ll have a sleepover this weekend and you can tell me about everything I’ve missed. I guess this mural thing is getting to me.”

  Abby’s shoulders fell and she gave her a lopsided smile. A smile far too much like Ben’s. “It’s fine. But you owe me an all-nighter.”

  “I’ll bring the espresso and chocolate.”

  “All-nighter?” Rafael said, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. “I’m in.”

  Abby ducked out from under him. “Not a chance. I need my girls’ night.”

  “Then what about Saturday night?” He nudged his hip against Bria’s. “Come check out my band practice. I pick up my new StingRay tomorrow.”

  “Can’t this weekend.”

  “Then next Saturday.”

  “Hmmm.” Bria cocked her head to roll her eyes at him. “A chance to watch you make a fool of yourself on the bass? Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Then it’s a date.”

  “I didn’t say that,” she said, pulling away from his arm.

  “But I did.”

  “I heard it,” Abby said. “Bria’s got a date!”

  “With who?” Dolores said with a grin.

  “Not a date,” Bria said. “Just hanging out.”

  “With me.” Rafael smirked.

  “Shut up.” Bria turned to Dolores. “It’s not a date.”

  ~

  Ben was already on the ladder, finishing the last word of the banner, when Bria walked into the gym. “Hey.”

  He gave her a terse nod and went back to work.

  “Almost done.” She set down her brushes. “It looks good.” The knife had been replaced by a compass and the gun stowed on the hunter’s back. Instead of the original snarl curling his mouth, he now looked skyward, intense but no longer angry. At his feet, waves danced in the place of the dead beavers.

  “What do you want me to do next?” Ben said. His detached tone sparked a rebellion in her chest that made it hard to breathe.

  “What did I do to piss you off?”

  He jumped down from the ladder, reminding her of the extra six inches he had on her even with her boots. “What makes you think I’m pissed?”

  “Come on. We’ve known each other too long for this.”

  “You’re driving me crazy, do you know that?” He stalked away and linked his hands together behind his head.

  “Me? You’re the one having mood swings.”

  “Come on, Bria. Don’t you feel anything when we’re together?”

  Her hands dropped to her side, as limp and
useless as the arguments she’d practiced in her head. “Don’t do this to me.”

  “To you?”

  “Abby already thinks I’m messing with your head.”

  “Because you are!”

  She glared at him. “Well, you’re messing with mine too.”

  “What are we doing, Bria?” He flopped down on the bleachers. “Last night, I thought…”

  “I don’t want to be your dirty secret. The girl you kiss when no one else is looking. ”

  He stared at her, flexing the muscles in his jaw. “Is that what you think I want?”

  Pressing her lips together, she held back another angry retort. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I like you. I want to give us a try.”

  Tears pricked behind her eyes and Bria, the girl made of stone, looked away. “It’ll never work. I’m not right for you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t be that girl. The one on the sidelines cheering you on. The one planning pep rallies and hanging on your arm at dances. We have nothing in common.”

  “We have us. We’ll make up the rest.”

  “I don’t think it works like that. I am who I am, and we’re too different. You really want to ditch Alyson and the guys on your team and come eat falafel with me?”

  “I don’t know. But we’re seniors and I’m sick of having to live up to everyone else’s expectations. Everyone else’s needs. I’m sick of pretending I don’t feel anything for you.”

  She laughed, bitter and cold. “Right. Because you’ve been harboring a crush on me for how long? Since you saw me in my underwear?”

  “You really think I’m that guy? Do you know me at all?”

  “No! That’s my point! We haven’t known each other like that in a long time and we’ve both changed way too much.”

  He walked up to her and curled his fingers in the tips of her hair. “You knew me once. And I knew you. That’s the girl I still dream about. The girl who climbed trees in a tutu and never met a dare she wouldn’t take. The girl who found every stray cat in Oceanside and nursed it back to health.”

  “That girl isn’t real any more.”

  He dropped his hand. “I guess not.”

  “I can finish the mural alone. Go home, Ben.”

  He caught her wrist, sliding his fingers down to lace them through hers. The movement startled her and she sucked in her breath, accidentally meeting his eyes. He stood close enough she could see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and the specks of gold in his irises.

  He hesitantly lowered his head and she tipped up her mouth to meet his. All her protests died in the tangle of their lips and the taste of Skittles on her tongue. Nothing demanding. Just the mind numbing rush of momentarily being, becoming, and belonging.

  The fingers of his free hand curved around her hip, drawing her against his body, and then sliding up to the small of her back.

  She pressed her palm against his chest, ready to push him away when the tears broke free.

  “Bria.” He whispered her name with his face still tucked in against hers.

  A sob caught in her throat and she curled her fingers into his shirt, clutching it in her fist. He made her weak, made her small. Made her remember she was more human than myth. Made her remember everything. That all the bravado and the hard candy shell were just a show. That inside she ached for a safe haven, like the one she found tangled up with him. Her mind screamed to protect herself, but instead she melted deeper into his arms.

  “I’m such a mess,” she said. “I don’t even know who I am any more. I don’t know what I want.”

  “I want you.”

  “Don’t say that.” She pushed him and his hands fell from her body, leaving tangible voids. “Just don’t. I can’t do this. I need to focus on school and my portfolio and Abby will kill me and I…” She snapped her mouth shut.

  “You what? Those are excuses. You owe me more than that.”

  “You kissed me.” She threw it at him like an accusation.

  “You kissed me back. Every time.”

  “Ben, please. Just go.” Turning her back on him, she picked up a brush again.

  Several long, painful minutes passed before the door to the gym closed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bria threw herself onto Abby’s bed. She’d never bothered to upgrade the pink wallpaper and flower-shaped lamp on her desk, so the whole room was like some bizarre childhood flashback. “Season two?”

  “Boy troubles?” Abby flopped down beside her and picked up the remote.

  “Ugh.” Bria covered her eyes with her hands. “Something is seriously wrong with me.”

  “You are going to need to be a lot more specific than that.”

  “I think I’m swearing off men.”

  Abby stopped scrolling through Netflix long enough to roll her eyes. “I guess that means you haven’t asked anyone to homecoming?”

  “Why can’t I find a dark, brooding vampire cursed with a soul?”

  “Maybe we should skip the romance.”

  “No. I want my happy ending. Then let’s go straight to Angel season 1 and the episode when he’s human for a day.”

  “You never need to convince me to watch that combo. Go grab something to eat while I start it? Unless you need to talk?”

  “Nope. I’m drowning my feelings in copious amounts of salt, sugar and grease.”

  “Yes. Please.”

  Bria pushed herself up from the crumpled comforter. “I’m sleeping in tomorrow too.”

  “So you won’t get out of bed until like eight.”

  “Harhar. Ten. I’m not getting out of this bed until ten.”

  Bria strolled into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Mrs. Harris kept the house so immaculate, it never took more than a minute to find things. She grabbed two sodas and a tub of guacamole before heading to the pantry for chips to join their private stash of vegan chocolate upstairs. At the last minute, she added a package of Oreos to the pile.

  Voices drifted in from the driveway and she glanced up to see Ben’s jeep. She meant to look away. She meant to pretend she didn’t care who he was talking to in the middle of the night.

  But a flash of blond hair caught her eye and she twisted in time to see Alyson Kane touch his face, palm against his cheek. They sat side by side, perched on the bumper of the jeep, heads bent together and voices pitched low, creating an atmosphere of intimacy that made Bria feel like a creeper just for watching.

  She yanked her eyes away, ignoring the knife digging into her gut.

  She’d rejected him.

  It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t, it wasn’t.

  Stupid, stupid tears.

  Clutching the sodas to her chest, she turned on her heels and stalked up the stairs with her back rigid.

  No one made Bria Hale cry.

  Especially when he’d just proved her right.

  “What’s wrong?” Abby asked, dropping the remote.

  “Nothing.” Bria dropped the cans beside her. “So. Homecoming.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m going to ask Rafael.”

  Abby squealed and clapped her hands. “Thank you!” She threw her arms around Bria’s neck and squeezed.

  “Don’t ever tell me I’ve never done anything for you,” Bria said, squeezing her back.

  Abby hit play and picked up one of the sodas, but didn’t open it. “So.” She tapped her fingers against the can “I did something really stupid.”

  “Abs.” Bria held an Oreo halfway to her mouth. Her friend’s usual definition of stupid scared her. “What did you do?”

  “I applied to a theater program in London.” Abby winced, like she expected Bria to freak.

  “What’s wrong with London? Or theater? Or whatever makes you think that’s stupid?”

  “What if I don’t get in?” Abby jumped up from the bed and paced around the room. “What if I do? How am I going to pay for it? How am I going to tell my parents I’m
moving to London? Do you have any idea how far away that is?”

  “Abby.”

  She sat down in her desk chair. “Oh God. I’m not going to get in. Why would they let me in? I suck. I mean, I’ve never directed anything. This is my first production as stage manager. I don’t know what I’m doing. It’s going to be a spectacular failure.”

  Bria took both her hands and tugged her back toward the bed. “You’re fine. You’re more than fine. Don’t panic.”

  Abby flopped down on her back. “I’m freaking out.”

  “No. Really? You seem so perfectly calm.”

  Abby cracked a smile. “I’m going to be okay, right?”

  “More than okay. You’re one of those annoying people who succeed at everything without even trying.”

  “But that’s the thing.” Abby turned her head toward Bria. “I am trying. I mean, I don’t try at school and I get through fine. But I really, really tried for this. I agonized over the application. What if I still fail?”

  “What if you don’t?”

  “Then I’m going to London.”

  Bria grinned. “You’re going to London! With cute British boys and the Tube and those red phone booth things.”

  “I’m going to have to eat fish and chips. I don’t think you can go to London without eating fish and chips.”

  “Fish aren’t really meat. You’re fine.”

  Abby blinked a few times. “I’m going to miss you so freaking much.”

  “I’ll visit. My dad has clients in the UK. I’ll tag along when he flies over.”

  “It’s so far away. And the weather sucks, right?”

  “The weather sucks here too. All the sun? And heat? You’ll get awesome fog and rain. It’ll be all moody and you can wear galoshes and long coats.”

  “Galoshes.”

  “Yep. Galoshes.”

  ~

  Abby wasn’t a pretty sleeper. Sprawled out on her face, she made a snuffling, snoring sound every third breath.

  Bria turned toward the clock again. At barely past 9 A.M. she gave up counting Abby’s snores and headed down stairs.

  “Good morning,” Adele said with a bright smile. She wore a ruffled apron sprinkled with cherries tied around her slender waist. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “No, I’ve been up for a while.”