Be the Girl

They’ve been having a lot of “It’s just pasta” dinners lately. Last weekend she tried to sneak back in at 5 a.m. after a date night. I think they’re having more than “just pasta” now.

My lungs are burning with the cold by the time I’ve lapped the neighborhood, and the next one over, and am heading back. The snow is falling heavier now, and I slow my pace a touch to avoid slipping, but also to admire the beautiful, quiet white night. It reminds me of a snow globe, with a single set of headlights easing along the street, a canopy of trees, and a lone figure in the distance.

As I keep going, I realize it’s another jogger, and they’re heading my way. Not long after that, I recognize the tight form and the fitted white-and-blue toque hugging his head.

Dread builds as Emmett gets closer. Will he at least say hi on his way past? Will he do more than give me a fleeting glance? Is he wishing he turned right instead of left back there?

My eyes sting with those thoughts and, as much as I try to keep my tears from spilling, by the time the distance between us has closed, fat, hot tears streak down my frozen cheeks.

Emmett doesn’t run past me with a hi or a glance. He comes to a stop in front of me and, without saying a word, pulls me into his body, his strong arms wrapping around my back like a cocoon.

I sink into his warmth as the first sob rattles my chest. The soft thrum of music pulses through my earbuds, and regret for all my bad decisions overwhelms my heart.

The front of his down jacket is smeared with frozen tears by the time I finally break free, wiping at my cheeks and thoroughly embarrassed for breaking down on him in the middle of the quiet street.

He gently slips one bud from my ear and holds it up to his for a moment. “Well, no wonder. That’s depressing music.”

I laugh, and even though it’s weak, it feels good to laugh with Emmett again. “So, you run at night now, too?”

“No.” He offers me a dimpled smile. “Your mom said you were out here.”

He came out here for me?

I finally gather the courage to hold his gaze. His eyes are shining brighter than they have when they’ve touched me lately.

“I didn’t have a chance to talk to you after class today, seeing as you bolted out of there.”

I smile sheepishly. “Yeah. I needed a few minutes on my own.” I hid in the bathroom stall and was five minutes late for math.

“I … that took a lot of guts, what you did today.”

“Can’t really pretend it didn’t happen anymore, right?” And being a better person doesn’t mean hiding from or lying about who I used to be.

“So much of what you talked about is shit that happens in school every day, Aria. The gossip, the text messages, the comments. People do it all the time. Everyone does it. I’ve done it. Doesn’t make it okay but … I can see how it spiraled out of control like that.”

I shrug. “I figured, if my story makes people stop and think about what their words could do to a person, then I should tell it, right?”

“Right.” He nods slowly, his eyes roaming my face.

“I miss you.” I don’t mean to say it aloud, but it slips out anyway.

He offers me a sad smile. “I miss you, too, AJ.”

But you screwed it all up.

I study my snow-covered running shoes as another prickly lump forms in my throat, a fresh wave of tears threatening.

“I don’t think you’re Aria Wiser anymore.”

“And yet somehow I ended up at war with another girl, and it started over a boy, again.” I laugh, though it’s not at all funny. “So, who am I, really?”

“Look at me.” His jaw tenses as his thumb catches the single tear that falls. “You’re the girl who charmed a crusty old carnival operator into giving my sister an extra try. You’re the girl who couldn’t leave an old, unwanted dog in the shelter so you brought him home without asking.” A sly smile touches his lips. “You’re the girl who will sit in the cafeteria with Jen Ricci no matter what’s she’s wearing.”

“That green Grinch sweater yesterday almost broke me,” I admit sheepishly.

He chuckles, and his thumb grazes my cheek again. “I like that girl. A lot.” He takes a deep breath. “So, do you think we could start over, from the very beginning?”

My heart skips two beats. What’s he saying? “Do you mean, like ‘Hi, this is Aria with the green face who likes dogs and hates tomatoes’ start over?”

His head tips back with his deep laughter.





Epilogue





“Aria! They’re all waiting outside!”

I check myself one last time in the full-length mirror that Mick installed on the outside of the closet he built me, and then grab my clutch and my heels and head downstairs.

Mom beams up at me from the landing, her eyes watering as they drag the length of the A-line, floor-length silver gown we bought in April, after Emmett asked me to prom.

“You look beautiful, hon.”

I can’t help but twirl the moment my toes touch the landing.

“You sure you won’t be cold? Your back is awfully … bare.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She fusses with one of my shoulder straps. Everything about the dress is perfect—from the V neckline and the lace bodice to the satin material.

A sad smile touches her lips. “When did my little girl grow up …”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll still do plenty of stupid, childish things.”

She sighs with exasperation. “Come on. Heather’s waiting outside with her fancy camera.”

A nervous flutter stirs in my stomach as I step out into the warm June evening. The stretch SUV limo we ordered is waiting in the cul-de-sac for our group of twelve—mostly Emmett’s hockey friends plus dates, but also Jen and Richard, who decided to go together as “friends”—currently milling on our front lawn. Heather tests the lighting of various angles with her camera.

I see Emmett before he sees me, and it gives me a few seconds to admire him without shame—his masculine profile, his stylish hair, how his tailored charcoal suit hugs his form—before he turns.

His lips part as his dark-brown eyes drift over my dress. I catch the hard swallow.

I love the way he looks at me.

Zach lets out a whistle. “Can’t believe you stole her from me, man.”

“Shut up,” Emmett throws back, accentuating it with a playful shove.

“Okay, kids, I think we’re ready!” Heather hollers, then frowns, searching behind her. “Where’s Cassie? She was just here!”

“Hold on! Uncle Merv is just giving me something!”

I take the newly built and painted porch stairs down to the flagstone path that Mick installed last weekend to where Cassie stands next to Uncle Merv, grinning wide. The soft-pink tulle dress that we picked out is so Cassie—the floor-length skirt gives off a princess vibe, and the sleeveless lace top is fitted but modest. We spent the day together getting ready and so far, she’s managed to not rub off her eye makeup or muss her updo or pick off her nail polish, and she’s on a strict water-only rule.

“Here.” Uncle Merv passes Cassie a fuchsia rose bloom the size of my hand. “I cut the stem short because of all those damn thorns, but there’s just enough there to hold for the pictures.”

Cassie beams as she peers down at it in her grasp. “Aunt Connie would be happy.”

“She sure would.” Uncle Merv chuckles. “She would’ve loved to see you two dressed up tonight.”

“Girls!” We look back in unison to find the lens aimed at us. Heather checks the digital screen, smiles with satisfaction, and then calls us over to the group.

“Here, you need one, too, Aria.” Uncle Merv leans in to clip another bursting bloom. He weighed in forty pounds’ lighter at his last doctor’s appointment, according to my mom. While he has a ways to go, he’s finally agreed to eat one plate of “rabbit food” for dinner every night.