Page 6 of The Thought of You

Sniffling sounds from my right, and I strain to follow its trail. The harmonica starts up again, nearly drowning out the crying altogether. I keep walking around the barn until I find a young girl crouched against the side of it between two barrels. There’s no telling what the brown stains on the outsides of them are, and I have no desire to think too hard about it.

The girl glances up as she draws her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “Who are you?”

“I’m Miss Lockhart, the junior English teacher. I’m filling in for Ow—I mean, Mr. Conrad.” It’s been only a month of working together, and I’m still getting used to calling him by anything formal. It so doesn’t fit him. “What’s your name?” I ask, clearing my throat.

“Beth.”

A whiff of whatever animal must have died in these barrels assaults my nostrils. I mask my features with a brave face and lower myself next to the girl, wedging myself into the mix like peanut butter smashed between two crackers.

“I’m fine,” she mumbles and picks at her cuticles. It’s an all too familiar move.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be out here all alone.”

“Am I in trouble or something?”

“No.”

We stay silent for a minute as I mentally conjure my fifteen-year-old self and all the emotions that came along with it. Whenever I felt like this, it was because a boy I liked had crushed my little heart, or because the mean girls were doing what they did best. Either way, I didn’t want to talk about it until I was ready.

So, I give Beth the space she might need.

A few seconds pass before she takes a deep, shaky breath and peeks over at me. “I ran into the door of the cafeteria today. Everyone saw, and I’ve been the butt of every joke for hours. There’s actually a meme of it going viral as we speak. It’s brutally embarrassing.”

I purse my lips and sink farther onto the ground, the cool breeze drifting through the damp strands of my hair and causing a shiver down my spine.

“Please don’t tell me this will pass by tomorrow when they get distracted by something else or that they’re only making fun of me to ignore their own insecurities. My big sister’s already tried. She thinks I’m crazy dramatic for my ‘high school drama.’” She throws up air quotes, then swipes under her eyes. “She just graduated from college a few months ago, and suddenly, she’s the queen of everything.”

“Well, your sister is wise and also pretty right about this. The first part, anyway.” I sigh. “It doesn’t mean this sucks any less. In fact, it sucks a lot.”

Beth releases a watery exhale bordering on a laugh.

“I served as a punching bag for other kids’ insecurities plenty of times,” I say honestly, although the words are difficult, even after all these years. “If they weren’t picking on me for my lopsided braids, it was my nasally voice or my two left feet. I don’t know how many times I tripped just standing upright. I wasn’t very balanced in any sense of the word.” I shake my head as I recall how hard it was to navigate my mom’s cooky ways, my dad’s new life, plus the never-ending “high school drama.”

One side of Beth’s lips tilts upward. “How did you deal?”

“My stepmom convinced me to sign up for dance classes before high school started.”

“And it helped?” She tilts her head to the side, her skepticism as clear as the red paint on her nails.

I nod. “With enough practice over time, I became rather graceful on my feet. Didn’t trip over any rugs or table legs. Not as often, anyway. I’m still human, of course.”

This earns me a soft but unmistakable giggle.

I dip my head, my chest lighter than before as I add, “But mostly, it helped me with my confidence. The kids at the studio were supportive and encouraging, and they opened up a whole world for me. I stopped caring so much about the jokes and comments at school, but again, that’s not to say it didn’t suck.”

“It feels like I’m alone. Even my own friends abandoned me today.”

“I’m sorry, Beth.” I frown. I had my fair share of run-ins with the evil twins, but I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through any of it without my friends. “We can stay out here as long as you’d like, but I think it’d make a bigger statement if you held your shoulders back and your chin up while you marched in there to show them you’re not made of glass. You’re stronger than that.”

“I don’t think I am.”

“Just takes a little practice.” I wink, and a hint of a smile makes her lips twitch. “What do you say? Should we practice?”

She blows out one more breath, then nods.

“Good, because showing them they don’t bother you is the best kind of revenge.”

“What’s another kind? I’m open to options.” Her attempt at a full grin falters before it reaches her eyes, but I appreciate the effort. It helps me know I’m alleviating the suck factor of her situation at least a fraction.

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