Measuring Up

questions. Gives me direction, but it’s not the same. He doesn’t cheer me on the same way. Doesn’t interact. Well, unless you count with his phone.

I’m not sure I could have stuck with this if Brian was my trainer. With him I feel like what I am—just a client, not a person. It makes me so thankful for what I have. Somehow, even though I know Tegan doesn’t jog with everyone, I know he doesn’t treat them the way Brian does.

“Five more,” Brian tells me.

“I can’t…” The words make me mad. I should be able to do this. I have done it, but right now, I just don’t feel like I can.

“Just try.”

Not, you can do it. Try. It shouldn’t matter. The logical part of me knows I shouldn’t need that—I should be able to do it on my own.

I let the weights clank down. I’m done.

***

It’s strange meeting Tegan tonight for some reason. Maybe it’s because it’s the first time we’ve met in the evening or because it’s the first time I’ve worked out

and gone jogging in the same day. Or maybe it’s because it felt so weird to work out with someone who wasn’t him. Whatever the reason is, I almost feel like this is the first time we’ve hung out. It’s more than just butterflies in my belly: fireflies and lightening bugs join the swarm.

This time we meet at the park. It’s slightly busier in the evening than the morning, but still not overwhelmingly so. He’s in basketball shorts like he always wears when we jog and a Celtic jersey. I know enough to know there aren’t many Celtics fans in California.

“Hey you,” he says when I get out of the car. Ever since our day at the court with his family, he’s been light like this. More open. It makes me all warm and gooey inside. Dangerous for my heart, but true.

“Hey.”

We stretch a little and then fall into our familiar jog.

“How’d your work out go today, A

he does with me, but still I wish it affected him a little more than it does.

“Okay, I guess.” I fight to keep my voice steady. Thinking about Mom and how much I disappoint her. Then working out with someone else at the gym. It hasn’t

been the best day.

“Just okay? Did ya miss me?” he laughs like it’s a joke, but I did. I missed him. When I don’t reply he speaks again. “I’d have much rather been there, too. It was a court thing we had to go to…don’t really feel like talking about it though.”

As much as I want to know, I’m thankful for what he gave me. We jog in silence a little longer. No noise but the sound of steps mixing together again. “So… is

something else up? You’re quiet tonight.”

I want to talk about it. It’s unreal how badly. It’s different talking to Em who knows Mom and will just blast her. Or Dad who will come up with a way to defend

her while still trying to build me up too. Ru

“No one is perfect, A

“She is.”

“Nope. Maybe she’s just better at hiding it. There’s nothing wrong with who you are and it sucks she makes you think there is.”

“Yeah it does suck. Can I ask you something?” My words come out much choppier than they should.

“You wa

I don’t reply because I don’t have to.

“Freak sporting accident. Can you believe that shit? Who expects that? For an eleven year old boy who looks up to his brother, to head out of the house with a

football under his arm and end up in the hospital because he’ll never walk again?”

Football… Oh, God. And was Tegan playing with him?

It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize, but I don’t. Somehow, I know he wouldn’t want it. “Sucks.”

“Sure as hell does.” He picks up speed. “Come on. I’ll race you the final stretch.”

“You cheat!” I call after him as I push my legs harder, faster. Of course I don’t beat him, but I don’t end up too far behind so for me, it’s a win. I’m gasping for breath as he’s handing me a water bottle. I suck half the thing down. “You totally didn’t win.”

“Yeah, I totally did.” He mocks.

Feigning anger I cross my arms a little too hard. It squeezes my water bottle which then squirts water at my face.

Holy. Freaking. Embarrassing.

Laugher bursts out of Tegan’s mouth. I want to be mad, but I can’t. I start laughing too. “AHHH. I hate you!” I point my bottle at him and squeeze. He doesn’t

move as the rest of my water sprays at him. He’s too busy laughing. Our giggling mingles together the way our footsteps did not along ago.

When we finally stop, we’re both breathing hard. Standing close. In this moment, I know my life is about to change.

“Go out with me,” Rushes out of his mouth so quickly, I’m not sure I heard him right.

“Huh?” Please, God. Don’t let me have been hearing things. Don’t let me die of shock before I can say yes. No! I mean before I get to go.

“Go out with me. This weekend.” I’m sure I look like one of those wrinkle dogs with the really big eyes, because they’re wide and staring and I can’t help it.

“Like a date.”

“A date?”

“A date.” Snicker. “I can’t seem to get enough of you.”

“Why?” Is it the coolest question to ask in this situation? Nope, but it’s what I need to know.

“Say yes.” He’s smirking.

There was never a chance at me answering any differently. “Yes.”

“I’ll text you. We’ll see each other before that, but I’ll text you anyway.”

I can’t stop smiling.

Chapter Twelve

TWO DATES—HOLY CRAP!

Tegan texts me a few times as the week goes on. Nothing major, but then that’s what makes them special.

What ya up to?

I think my family likes you more than me.

Are you excited for this weekend?

We’re still on our same workout schedule and when we’re there, we only talk “business”. Basically, that just means he wants to drive me crazy. Which he’s

doing. The one time I brought it up, I asked him what I should wear and he said, “Just be yourself. Wear whatever you feel comfortable in.” What does that even

mean? I can wear my jammies, because that’s what I feel comfortable in.

But I can’t do that. In fact, I’m so desperate, I’m heading to Mom’s office to talk to her. Not to tell her I’m going on a date, obviously, but the fact is, I need her help. Which totally kills me, knowing what she thinks of me. Knowing that even though she will want to make me over, she’ll also still not be happy with the outcome.

It’s only 8:00 and she’s already perfectly put together.

“Mom?”

“Yeah.” She doesn’t look up from her computer. It’s been like this since our talk about the pageant. Short, one word answers. Things are more strained between

us than they have ever been.

My words want to stick in my mouth like a huge wad of gum, but I find a way to speak around it. “I thought maybe we could do the spa day today. Maybe get my

hair and my nails done like you said. I have to meet Em this afternoon, so we’d have to be back, but—”

“Perfect!” She cuts me off. “Go get changed and I’ll call and make our appointment!”

An hour later we’re sitting with our feet in a tub of water. They’ve been scrubbed, but oh, here they go, scrubbing them again. Our nails are painted, then I’m

subjected to the same thing to my hands: clip, massage, paint. I hate to admit it kind of feels good. Who doesn’t like to be pampered? At the same time, it feels weird because it’s not me.

“What do you think you want to do with your hair?” Mom asks, eyes closed and head back while she enjoys the pampering.