Brace yourself, I’ve got big goals for the new year. And not just debuting my incredible Daisy costume for The Great Gatsby–themed costume party I’m going to on the Lower East Side tonight. Bigger than that.
You know I’m tired of being That Girl. The one everyone thinks they know. The one the world pins down to that one thing that happened to them that one time. It’s as if everyone thinks that my whole life can be boiled down to a single moment or turned into a single hashtag. As if Bliss Batrowny is no longer, like, a fully formed human with a past, a present, and a future.
I’ll bet the world thinks they’ve got you pegged, too, when the truth is, we’re wonderfully complex creatures full of beautiful, layered mysteries!
But to be a girl means to have a million voices constantly telling you who you’re supposed to be. And it’s so easy to let the world take over. There’s something, I don’t know, easier about the idea that we can all fit into neat little boxes, right? To never even bother to define yourself and just listen to all the other voices because they’re so loud. It’s honestly what I’ve been doing the last few months.
I’m not angry about it. Seriously, I’m really not. But I am done. I’m officially done talking about that video. You know the one. From now on, I get to decide who I am and where I’m going.
Ugh. I don’t have the brain capacity to think about it anymore, anyway, since all my attention until the party is focused on practicing for my upcoming audition. I am determined to land the part of Cinderella in my school’s new production of Into the Woods! It’s been a long time since I’ve done any kind of theater, and I’m really excited to get back into it.
Was I surprised that my big-time New York arts school would go for something so … safe? Well, yeah. I thought we’d be doing, like, Spring Awakening or Cabaret … You know, a show that would rile up at least a few parents.
But Into the Woods it is, and I was born to play Cinderella because her songs were basically written for my voice, even if sophomores never get cast in leads. This place always picks seniors for the lead roles because it’s, like, a pipeline into Juilliard and that’s a big deal for the school, but if I can move on from the past, so can the drama department!
So, you see? I don’t have time to talk about—
You know what? I’m not even going to say it. Because that’s how done I am.
I mean, you get it, right?
LAINEY
If I were trapped in a horror movie, this New Year’s Eve party would be it. It’s got all the elements:
1) loud music and those insanely annoying blowout noisemakers
2) a lot of people I don’t know
3) the people who I do know only talking to me to ask how my twin brother, Aidan, is doing
4) me sitting alone on the couch trying not to look like I have no friends
5) too many potential murder weapons in the kitchen.
And here I just made a New Year’s resolution to decide who I am and where I’m going, like my friend Bliss.
There are a few things getting in the way of that, namely that Bliss has waaaaaay more self-confidence than I do, and I don’t have a clue about where I want to go.
There’s something about your parents getting divorced, your dad remarrying before the ink on the divorce agreement has dried, and him immediately moving across the country to California, despite promising “nothing will change.” Then your twin brother decides to leave you and Mom to go live with Dad, even after finding out that your dad and stepmother are expecting a baby. It all tends to throw everything you thought about your life out of whack and make you decide that digging in your heels and staying where you are is a better idea than dealing with one more change.
I wasn’t even supposed to be in Connecticut for New Year’s. I ended up coming home from California early because of what happened at Dad’s. I thought Mom would be thrilled I was back, but it turns out she has a date with some guy from nursing school named Victor.
So here I sit, observing Shula’s different friend groups maneuvering around one another like animals in a nature documentary.
Dexter Jackson and Tyler Foster, two of Aidan’s former football teammates, spot me on their way to the kitchen to refill their drinks.
“Hey, Lainey,” Dexter says, like he’s seeing me for the first time this year, even though we’ve literally passed each other in the hallway almost every day, and he’s only acknowledged my existence once or twice since September. “Looks like Aidan is living his best Cali life.”
“I saw his new team won state,” Tyler adds. “No wonder he wanted to ditch Westford.”
“No wonder,” I echo dryly, but they’re already heading into the kitchen. I try to figure out how far away from Westford I’d have to go for people to talk to me without mentioning my brother. That’s another thing I love about Bliss. She sees me as me, Lainey, not as Aidan’s quiet, awkward twin.
Until Aidan left, I took for granted just how much he smoothed the way for me socially. Turns out people don’t actually like me that much; they just put up with me, like a toll they had to pay for basking in Aidan’s golden
glow.
Between my disastrous trip to California and Bliss’s message, I realize it’s time for me to step out of my brother’s shadow, but that’s easier said than done when my anxiety makes every social situation a battle—one I usually lose. I hug myself as I look around, wondering how long it’ll be before I can escape to Shula’s room.
“What’s up, Lainey?” My brother’s Argentine American friend Rafe, who also happens to be my best friend Mia’s cousin, interrupts the whirlwind in my head. He drops onto the sofa next to me and holds out a bowl of chips with a jar of salsa in the middle.
This time, it’s not the anxiety that makes my heart speed up. It’s just the natural rhythm it beats out anytime Rafe’s around.
I grab a few chips and shove them in my mouth to avoid answering.
But Rafe’s brown eyes meet mine, warm and genuinely curious. He’s not going to let me deflect like I usually do.
“Tell me. What’s going through that head of yours, Lainey Johnston?”
I start to make something up, but as I swallow the mush of chips in my mouth, I remember my resolution. I want to answer honestly, but the anxiety elephant is sitting on my chest. The ever-present, all-doom-and-gloom little creature that trumpets my potential failures all day long.
I force myself to say it, anyway. “I’m wondering what’s the matter with me because I hate parties.”
Rafe’s brow furrows. “Pretty deep thoughts for New Year’s Eve.”
“I know. You should probably go hang out with someone less tragic.”
“Why would I do that?”
It makes me wonder if he ever thinks about us being more, the way I do, or if I’m just Aidan’s twin to him.
“It must be weird not having Aidan here.”
Do you communicate telepathically using your secret twin connection?”
“That connection doesn’t work from three thousand miles away,” I say, tucking my hair behind my ears. But I’m not sure how well it worked when we were in the same house, because when Aidan announced he was moving in with Dad and Marissa, it came as a total shock.
“Do you ever wish you’d moved to California with him?”
“I don’t know …” I trail off, tongue-tied, wishing I could disappear into the sofa cushions.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Rafe says quickly. “Forget I did.”
He stands and my heart sinks. My inability to be normal strikes again. But then Rafe passes the chip bowl to Chris Casey and grins down at me.
“Come on, it’s New Year’s Eve—let’s dance!” he says, taking my hand and pulling me up so quickly I lose my balance. He grabs my shoulders to make sure I don’t fall, and my breath catches at his nearness. He takes a step back and tugs me to the den, where the rug has been rolled back and colored LED lights flash in rhythm with the music.
I freeze, too self-conscious to move in the sea of dancers.
Rafe grabs a pair of sparkly New Year’s glasses from the top of Shula’s head and places them on my face. I imagine that they’re magic specs that give me the power to dance like no one’s watching and start moving my hips to the beat of the music. Shula winks at me and gives me a thumbs-up, because she knows I’ve had a crush on Rafe pretty much ever since he moved here from Hartford.
For a few moments, the voice in my head quiets, the elephant is gone, and a strange feeling bubbles up in my chest. Rafe is smiling at me, and I beam back. This year can be different. It will be.
He grabs my hand and twirls me around, the two of us laughing.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse Mia holding up her phone, recording herself for her YouTube channel, Makeup with Mia. She’s been trying to build it up since last summer, which means most of the time she’s around lately, there’s been a camera in my face. She’s dancing next to Rafe and me and giving a running commentary on everything. I move out of the line of sight of her camera, but it’s too late. The elephant returns, sending my brain into overdrive. You dance weird. Your outfit is all wrong. You are all wrong.
I rip off the stupid glasses. Magic isn’t real. I should know that by now.
Rafe’s busy posing with Mia, so I escape through the dancing bodies, heading for the door. They don’t seem to notice I’m gone.
I rush upstairs to Shula’s room and collapse onto her beanbag chair. The beat of the music and a hum of voices rise from downstairs. The party is in full swing and it’s coming up to midnight, but as usual, I’ve turned into an awkward pumpkin.
Why am I so bad at this?
I wonder if Aidan’s busy helping Marissa set up for the big New Year’s party tonight. The one I was supposed to be there for. Part of me wants to FaceTime him so that we can share this moment like we’ve always done. I get out my phone and my thumb hovers over his name.
But he hasn’t texted me since I left California early. We live three thousand miles apart and in different time zones, but right now it feels like he’s on Mars.
I put my phone away and stare at the ceiling as I hear people downstairs starting the countdown to midnight.
Lucky Bliss is all decked out at some fancy New York party surrounded by friends, instead of hiding out in someone else’s bedroom, alone.
poppers, I take out my phone and send her a message.
Happy New Year, Bliss! I hope it’s all you dream it will be. Xo Lainey
BLISS
Heeeeeeeey!
So, I got the part!
You’re looking at my school’s new Cinderella! And I am absolutely wearing a tiara right now. I admit, it’s a bit more, well, sparkly than I normally go for. As you know, I’m pretty devoted—okay, obsessed—with my Bejeweled necklaces. And no, I’m not trying to start a new fashion trend. But it’s totally called for in this moment.
According to Raven, I’m the first sophomore to land a lead role at my school since Taylor Mackey got the part of Oliver six years ago, and I’m definitely the first kid with cerebral palsy and the first power wheelchair user to ever be a lead, too. Raven would know because she keeps track of stuff like this. By the way, she was totally robbed from getting the part of Little Red Riding Hood. The perfect Red is all about sass, and let’s be honest, that’s her.
I told you about Raven. We became friends last year when we were in choir together, but really she is exactly how you would picture a theater kid from the city to look. Like, Raven’s so naturally cool that if she decided tomorrow that berets were going to be a thing again, half the school would be wearing them by next week. She also takes crap from absolutely no one, which you know is very much my vibe. She’s classic mean girl energy on the outside, but a squishy cinnamon roll on the inside.
Okay, so let me give you the play-by-play of my audition. Raven came over the night before and we obsessively ran through our audition songs about a billion different times until my dad finally came in and was like, “I will pay you to stop.” L-O-L, old people.
So then, day of, Mr. Giambini, the head of the drama department, called my name and I took to the stage. And this stage—oh my god … It has red velvet seats like at the Met, gold curtains, and even a small chandelier, and it was so much bigger compared to the old community theater I used to perform in.
I’ll admit it. In a very un-Bliss moment of me, I was kind of a nervous wreck. You have to understand, the kids in my school, they’re all so …
Different from me.
They were all basically made for a school like this. But my first instinct was to turn around and leave.
Then I felt the familiar heat of the stage lights hit my face. Theater lights always do something to me, like they make me wake up when I didn’t know I was sleeping, and it made me realize that since no one expected me or any other sophomore to land Cinderella, I literally had nothing to lose.
So I moved to the center of that stage, handed over my sheet music, and just went for it.
Suddenly, everything disappeared. Mr. G, the other teachers judging us, the rows of empty seats in that cavernous auditorium. And, dude, I hit every. Single. Note. Like magic.
Then Mr. Giambini thanked me and that was it. It all happened in such a blur that I left kind of wondering if I’d just imagined the whole audition.
Raven hugged me when we saw the list on the auditorium doors this morning. She said she had no idea I had that kind of voice inside me. People always say that, either because they’re ableist and they don’t expect me to
actually be good at something, or they’re like Raven, who is a singer and knows how difficult it is to build up your diaphragm and lung capacity to belt properly when you’re sitting.
So the other thing about being Cinderella is that Cinderella has a prince and she has to kiss that prince. The guy they cast as my prince is a senior named Silas Ledbetter, who literally has performed on Broadway. He was Gavroche in Les Mis when he was ten and his mom is a famous opera singer who performs at the Met all the time. I don’t really know him. I mean, I do, because everyone at school knows him. He’s a legend. But I’ve only ever talked to him a couple of times.
Rehearsals start next week, so now I get the joy of cramming that into my normal schedule, which is already bonkers. Hi, my new profession is Juggler of All the Things. But I’m actually looking forward to it. School, rehearsals, memorizing lines. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to perform, but I feel like it’s exactly what I need right now.
Okay, so, what do you think? Be honest. Even with fake diamonds, a tiara kind of suits me, right? ...
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