Falling by Design

by Lind, Valia

  "You can't judge everyone by your family's mistakes."

  As always, Chance sees right into the heart of things. He understands exactly where this fear comes from, even before I understand it myself. He reaches over and grabs one of my hands in his, giving me the comfort of knowing not everyone is of the bad lot.

  "Look, I'm not saying Grayson is your, how did Dakota put it? Happily ever after. But I know that you need to give him a chance to explain. You owe that to yourself. He owes you an apology. The closure that can come from knowing the full story maybe just what you need. There is always more going on that you know, trust me. Just hear him out." He gives my hand another small squeeze before letting go.

  I know he's right, but the fear of being let down by yet another person sits too heavily on my heart. I'm doing that thing again, where I over-think every little aspect to a point of denial. It's not like Grayson is proposing right? He just wants to have a normal conversation, where I don't feel like pushing him off a building. I'm not a kid anymore. I can handle talking to him for five minutes. I guess I could manage that, if just for the sanity of my friends. I honestly cannot imagine them steering me in a direction that would not be beneficial to me. And the fact that I’m stressing over this whole Grayson thing may end if I let myself take that leap and just talk to him.

  "So what did you decide?" Chance asks, after giving me a moment to mull his words over. I love him for that, he always knows how to say exactly the right thing and then give me the time to process it. He has a tendency to think things over before making decisions and we're alike in that sense. While Dakota just usually dives head first without the moment to think, I'm the cautious one, so Chance understands me. I meet his eyes with a determined look.

  "Fine, Mr. Know-It -All, if he wants to talk, I’ll listen."

  FIFTEEN

  I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.

  - Fred Allen

  I can hear the dogs barking even before we round the corner.

  The shelter's been open for only a few years, but it's been a great success. The building that houses all the animals is an old motel structure, which allows for numerous rooms to be used for housing animals, while others are used for bathing, exercise, and visiting days. Only half of the buildings survived after the property was sold, but it works just fine. The back lot was redesigned to allow the animals to be taken outside for walks and exercise, while the front was expanded for more parking spaces.

  I love volunteering here. I had to talk my aunt into letting me come in later on some days just so I can have an extra day to participate. Chance is not working at the moment so he'll be here five days a week, that punk. I guess that's what you get when your dad has all the money you may ever need. No, I'm not being fair. He worked all summer for his father, and he’s anything but a rich party boy. He uses his powers for good instead of evil. Like Batman. His words, not mine.

  "Brooklynn," Mrs. Baker, the co-owner of the shelter, greets me warmly as soon as we walk in. As her arms come around me I inhale the sweet aroma of baked cookies and Christmas. Regardless of where she is or what time of the year it is, she always smells like the holidays. "I'm so glad to have you back here. Chance said he was brining you in today but we all know not to trust what Chance says."

  "Hey Mrs. B, I'm a trustworthy guy," the boy in question exclaims, giving Mrs. Baker a hug of his own. It’s plain to see they adore each. Chance doesn't have a mother figure in his life and Mrs. Baker decided that "just won't do". The first year we worked here, Chance was just a scrawny little freshman, all arms and legs dangling in no particular order. Mrs. Baker toughened him right up, and after carrying bags of food from room to room, Chance is anything but scrawny now. He filled out nicely, if I do say so myself.

  "I just love having you all here," Mrs. Baker states clapping her hands together in glee, "So much help this year, I'm going to have to send that principle of yours a fruit basket or something."

  "All the help?" I ask looking around. It was just us in the room. "Who else is coming?"

  "Oh Chance didn't tell you? One of his friends is volunteering here as well. He should be here any moment. He's just the most darling of boys." Mrs. Baker continues to chatter as she goes behind the counter to give us our badges. I turn my attention to Chance.

  "Who's volunteering with us?" He won't meet my eyes and I have the most horrible feeling at the bottom of my stomach. "Chance. Chance!" I stalk up to him, and he moves away. I follow. He finally looks at me, once I corner him between the desk and a wall and my heart drops.

  "You didn't."

  "Of course I didn't." He replies with a sweet curve to his lips, but I hear the exact opposite.

  "Chance!" I exclaim poking him in the chest, "You are so dead! If you did what I think you did, I'm going to strangle you." He ducks around me, and I fall forward just a bit before catching myself on the counter.

  "Everything okay?" Mrs. Baker asks glancing up from her papers with a smile. It's not the first time Chance and I have had a little disagreement in front of her.

  "We're fine," I reply, eyeing Chance on the other side of the room. He stands, feet shoulder length apart, ready to sprint if I make a dash for him. I know exactly what to do to punish him for sticking his nose into my business.

  "Prepare to lose that perfect mop of hair," I growl and launch myself at him. He shifts, jumping out of the way at the last possible moment, before dashing around the waiting chairs.

  "You are not touching my hair!"

  "Ha, that's what you think." We make another go around the chairs and he sprints for the counter and all its glorious safety. I shift to follow, but before I can take two steps, I hear the unmistakable sound of the door opening and the sense of something specifically Grayson fills the room.

  "Should I come back later?" Grayson asks from somewhere behind me. I flick the hair out of my eyes, turning to face the amused expression on his face. Briefly, I wonder how much trouble I'd get into if I just sweep the feet from right under him. I'm definitely tempted. I shift to get out of his way, but trip over my own two feet. I would’ve face planted if Grayson’s arms didn’t stop the process. Literally. He wastes no time, just grabs me by my elbows and hauls me to my feet.

  "Thanks," I mutter under my breath. I can hear Chance trying not to laugh behind Grayson's shoulder and I twist my face into a grimace before giving him my best death stare. That sets him off, until tears are starting to come out of his eyes. Enough is enough. I take a step in his direction, but Grayson's hands are in front of me and I freeze before he can actually touch me. I'm not giving my body that satisfaction again.

  "You guys good now?" Grayson asks glancing between Chance and me, an inquiring expression on his face.

  I grumble.

  He makes a face.

  Chance is still laughing.

  "Fine," I reply before stalking off to Mrs. Baker. She's been watching us closely, a smile of her own amusement plain on her face. "Is it okay if I start with the chihuahua's?" I ask ignoring the boys behind me.

  "Actually, why don't you take Grayson on a tour? He needs to know where everything is at." She doesn't give me a moment to reply. "Chance, can you come with me? I have a little project to keep you out of trouble."

  "Sure, Mrs. B." He smirks at me, wiggling his eyebrows and I fight the urge to trip him as he goes by. My friends have officially devised a conspiracy that's going to drive me up the wall.

  "Behave," Chance whispers as he walks past me and I can't help but smack him in the arm. Taking a deep breath, I turn my attention to Grayson and find him watching me. Again.

  "Ready?" I ask, making a mental note to act normal. Sure, he's the sworn enemy of my childhood, but I did promise Chance I was going to have a talk with Grayson, so why not now right? Maybe this will actually save me from going anywhere with him.

  "Lead the way."

  We walk out of the main office and head toward the doors on the west side of the complex. We're not touching,
but my body seems acutely aware of exactly where my personal space ends and Grayson's begins.

  "Since this building used to be a motel there are a lot of spare rooms to use," I begin in my best customer service voice, "We house a lot of strays here, but we also have a few rooms set up as play rooms for when we have family days. The yard at the back of the rooms allows parents and kids to take the animals out while still staying on grounds. There are a few we take to see patients in hospitals, and those animals actually live with a caretaker during the week. Over here we—"

  "Brooklynn," Grayson's soft voice interrupts my babbling. I do that, talk until someone stops me, when I'm nervous. He runs his hand absently through his thick locks.

  "I know you think the worst of me," he says. I open my mouth but he rushes on, "And I deserve that. I wasn't exactly the nicest kid growing up."

  "Try tormentor or imp," I grumble, unable to help myself. His eyes flash for a second, and for some fleeting reason I want to take the words back. He looks so vulnerable.

  "Okay, I was horrible to you. What I was trying to say, what I've been meaning to tell you—umm—I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."

  Well that is not what I expected. Maybe a little. Maybe I hoped. I would be blind not to admit that he’s changed, but his words still shock me into silence.

  "I'm not asking you to forgive me. Yet. But I want to run something by you that I hope you would be open to." He waits for an answer once more, and I mentally slap myself.

  "I'm listening." Good answer, Brooklynn. Go me. He takes a deep breath, almost as if stilling himself for whatever is to come, before he speaks again.

  "I'm planning on going to school for photography, seeing if there is a place for me in that world, and I was wondering if you would be willing to help me out." Talk about out in left field. I have no idea what this has to do with me, but I'm intrigued why he'd ask.

  "I don't really know anything about photography."

  "But you know fashion." Whatever mental rebuttal I was about to utter falls flat on my tongue. I forgot he already asked me about my work.

  "Please Brooklynn, you've loved clothes since the day I met you. You were always daydreaming and drawing designs when you should've been working on math problems."

  "You remember that?" I hate that my voice comes out a little breathless, as warmth spreads over my skin at his words. I know he remembers that day in the cafeteria as clearly as I do. But for some reason, standing here and now, I can't seem to hate him for what he did. Maybe it's because he's not the way I remember him. Maybe it's because my best friends seem to trust him. Maybe it's because my heart knows there's more to his story than I am aware of, and not just because Chance mentioned something. Grayson watches my reaction and I fear he can read these thoughts in my eyes. His gaze intensifies with something I can't place before he finally whispers, "I remember a lot of things."

  Time seems to stop as I let those words sink into me. We don't say anything, neither one of us wanting to break the small comradeship of memories his words bring. Since he's been back, everything about him is nothing like what I remember. He's more like the boy I thought him to be when no one was watching. He confuses me. There are so many questions at the tip of my tongue, but a part of me knows right now is not the time and place.

  "Still," I say. "I don't know how that would help you."

  "I have to create a portfolio for college admissions and I've noticed the more rounded the subjects are the better the reception. I have still life, landscapes, variations of depth of field projects, but one thing I don't have is fashion."

  "You want to photograph my work?" Panic. Red lights flashing. This is so not happening. I am not ready for anyone to see that. Especially him. I think my whole body is going into convulsions. This sounds a little too much like the last conversation we had, and that one didn't turn out well. I’m sure he can see the emotions racing over my face, so he gives me a moment to come to terms with his proposal. When he speaks again, it’s like he’s approaching a caged animal.

  "Yes, I want to photograph your work. I know for fashion design you'll need a portfolio too, and I'm willing to share the pictures if you're willing to work with me."

  "You're serious?" But what I really want to ask is if this is another joke.

  "Yes."

  We’re at a stand off. I have no idea what to think or feel. I never expected him to ask me something like this. I study his face, looking for some tell-tale sigh that this is a joke, that he’s preparing the greatest Brooklynn embarrassment since the beginning of our history together. Yet, I see none of that. I see a boy who is unsure of himself, unsure of his offer, who looks vulnerable and sincere.

  I try to be rational about this. I do need a portfolio. So far, it's just my sketches but to make a good impression I'm actually going to have to sew some things and have them worn. On the other side is the fact that I’m not a child anymore. I’ve built up enough resistance battling daily with my family that even if this is a ruse, I can handle it. I’m a stronger person than I’ve ever been. My past has prepared me and now I need to utilize the lessons I’ve learned.

  Grayson doesn't say anything, waiting for me to make a decision. Regardless of how Grayson makes me feel, this is what I need. I'm not that little kid anymore and I can handle myself. I can handle him and I can use him.

  "Yes," I reply, finally turning around to give him an answer. "I'll do it."

  The smile that blossoms on his lips makes my heart flutter with promises no one is making out loud.

  Yet.

  SIXTEEN

  Always remember that you are absolutely unique. Just like everyone else.

  - Margaret Mead

  It's a week later when we finally meet for our project.

  I've been pacing the length of Flowers in the Desert for the past hour, ever since Dakota came in. She told me she’d stop by to make sure I was actually here when Grayson showed up.

  "Would you stop with the pacing?" Dakota breaks through my thoughts now, her fingers arranging the bracelets on the display. She really just needs to get a job here already. Her constant need to fix a display could come in handy.

  "I'm not pacing."

  "No, you're running a marathon in the middle of the shop. Calm yourself down."

  "I'm calm."

  "You're a horrible liar." I resist the urge to scream, knowing there is nothing I can say to stop where this conversation is going.

  "What are you so nervous about? He's not going to eat you," And there it is. She's asking the questions I have no answer too. "Although the whole eating thing, it could be—"

  "Please stop," I half shout turning back to her, surprising myself and her in the process. "Sorry, you're freaking me out with the eating talk."

  "Honey, you're already freaked out. Could it have something to do with the fact that you'll be here, with Grayson, all alone and you like him?"

  "I do not like him."

  "Terrible liar." I groan, there is just no stopping her. I've been waiting for her to get to this point.

  "Look, I have to work with him. I don't trust him, and I definitely do not like him."

  "See, I believe two thirds of that sentence."

  "Ugh."

  "Brooklynn," Dakota begins getting off the barstool and walking over to place her hands on my shoulders. "He is not exactly a candidate for the nicest guy on the planet, but he's not the kid we used to know." I wretch away before she can continue.

  "I'm so sick of people telling me that. You're my best friend, you're supposed to be on my side."

  "I am on your side, but this is exactly why I think Grayson can be good for you. I know how things are at home, I understand the pressure your parents put on you. And Grayson, he gets that too. The whole pressure thing. Plus, he has a certain affect on you. He makes you stand up for yourself, he gets you out of your shell. It’s great!"

  "Wait," I interrupt, turning to study her, "How do you know he 'gets' the whole pressure thing?"

  "Well." S
he moves away, hiding behind the counter again. I follow.

  "Dakota!"

  "Fine, I talked to him."

  "About?" When she doesn't continue, I feel like stomping my foot. "You didn't."

  "He asked."

  "So you had to answer?" I stalk away from her, reaching for the closest rack and start rehanging clothes with a vengeance.

  "Brooklynn."

  "No, first Chance, now you. It's like a flipping conspiracy. Don't you guys remember how miserable I was in school? How horribly Grayson treated me? Yet, both of you, keep pushing us together like it's a game for you."

  "Brooklynn," Dakota says again, coming to stand in front of me and blocking my path. "First of all, I didn’t discuss your family life with him. We just talked about the uncertainty of fashion design and he told me it’s the same with photography. It’s a very subjective business and he understands that. Second of all, I know how things were and I know you don't let people in easily. What happened in seventh grade? Well, I think it's something Grayson and you need to talk about. In depth. But I also know that you've been more alive since Grayson came back to town. You're not the same little kid anymore and neither is he. I wouldn't be a good best friend if I didn't push you outside your comfort zone."

  I grumble under my breath and she does a little happy dance right then and there.

  "I'm glad you agreed to work with Grayson because I think this is exactly what you need to get your work out there."

  "My parents—"

  "Aren't here. This is your world, this is what you love. It's about time you let someone besides me take a look at your creations, and because you're trusting Grayson with this, I think you feel more for him than you're willing to admit."

  "When did you turn all philosophical on me?" I ask, not admitting anything one way or the other.

  "When my best friend needed me." She blows a kiss in my directions as I sigh heavily.

  A part of me knows she's right, but I have to keep that part filed away into the depths of my mind. If I let any kind of feelings cloud my judgment when it comes to Grayson I know I will end up getting hurt. Again. Even more than not trusting Grayson, I don't trust myself. But I don't get to say any of that because Grayson has arrived.