Page 16 of Grace

“Because I wanna show off in front of the guys,” he said, shrugging playfully.

I punched his shoulder with a bit of sting, but his smile seeped into my stomach—and then even lower. Now I understood why Dad had wanted to talk to me. I was fifteen, starting to grow into a woman. And while my body showed it, I was changing on the inside, too.

Billy was honest, and made me smile, so I’d definitely wanted to check out his practice. Even though I hated football.

We talked until it got dark. His words sometimes ventured into compliment territory, making me blush. And naturally, I couldn’t forget Mom and Dad who kept watching us from behind the living room’s window.

Before dinner, he asked me out to his practice, then kissed me on the lips and left.

I didn’t understand why love was supposed to take away one’s appetite—maybe all the butterflies in your stomach filled it up. That evening, I just kept pushing my lasagna around my plate, playing with it like a child. I drifted deep into the illusion of our future, daydreaming as I watched Mom and Dad. This was the kind of life I wanted for myself, too.

The next morning, I woke up at 6:00 a.m., at the same time Mom did. While she was getting ready for work, I dropped subtle hints about how I had nothing to do my makeup with, and how happy I’d be if she lent me some.

“Go ahead, they’re all in my room. Just make sure you put everything back the way it was when you’re done,” she said, smiling at me gently. “But if you don’t mind me saying, I don’t think you need any of it yet. Your face is as soft and clean as a baby’s. And your eyes are clear blue, like an ice cave.”

“You’re exaggerating, Mom.”

“All three of you are gorgeous.”

Then she cast a glance at Nikky’s door, and her smile faded.

“We’re going to get her back.” I gently wrapped my fingers around her warm, soft hand.

She blinked to get rid of the glistening tears in the corners of her eyes.

“And what are you wearing today?”

“I picked a short white overall with lots of lace. It has thin straps, but they’ll cover my bra straps just fine.”

“Perfect choice. It’ll highlight your childlike innocence and angelic beauty!”

After Mom and Dad left, I closed the door behind me and stood there for a long time, staring at the makeup kit—and then at my face. Finally, I decided not to put anything on my face, only apply a little mascara. The girl looking back at me was me—but at the same time, someone else, too.

The minimal makeup I had on highlighted my eyes. In the mirror, I saw an older, more experienced version of myself. And it scared me.

I rode my bike to get to my date, and locked it to the rack in front of the school. I looked at the red brick building.

The hot summer had left its mark: some of the hedges next to the entrance were yellow and the bright green lawn was burnt out here and there. The huge, winged door of the school was left open so that the draft would cool the building down.

August is the hottest month. And I felt that that day was the hottest day in August.

The yard of the school was also open. I crossed it to the football field. On the way, I snuck a glance at the park and saw that the white van wasn’t in its usual place. This was reassuring—at the same time, an intense emptiness tore at my heart.

By the time I arrived at the stands, the practice had been going on for a while. Even though I was still far away from the players, I saw that Billy was shading his eyes, furtively looking for me. I lifted my arm high and waved to him.

Their coach didn’t go easy on them. The T-shirts of the boys were sticking to their bodies, drenched in sweat, and they were visibly out of breath. I was hot even though I was sitting in the shade—I couldn’t imagine how they felt in the scorching sunshine.

As soon as their coach blew the whistle, indicating the end of the torture, Billy immediately sprinted toward me. All the other boys were whistling and cheering. I felt embarrassed with all those eyes on me.

Billy ducked under the thick white metal rails and got to me in an instant.

“Weren’t you bored?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his face with his T-shirt before kissing me on the lips.

His lips tasted salty, and the sour tang of his sweat hit my nose right away. Come on, Grace, don’t be so picky, I chided myself.

“The whole time, I kept wondering how crazy you have to be to run around with a ball in this heat,” I said honestly, making Billy smile.

“Yeah, you aren’t wrong,” he laughed. He looked me up and down and coughed into his fist. He might have blushed, but I couldn’t tell.