Out on a Limb

Sophia sat on the floor, back against the bed, completely out of sightline of the full-length mirror. For that matter, she avoided Danica, too—her cousin who was currently preening at her vanity.

Why Mom insisted she stay at her aunt’s she had no idea. Thirteen was old enough to be home alone.

“Come on, Soph. You can tell me. I know you have a crush on someone.” Danica wrapped a thick lock of hair around a curling wand.

There was no way she’d confess her crush to her cousin, blabbermouth of the school. Not only would she tease her mercilessly, she’d also tell her all the ways Kyle was out of her league. And after the grapevine got wind of it, everyone else would, too. “Unlike you, Dani, I’m not boy crazy. I can go whole weeks without dating someone and not have a meltdown.”

“But why would you want to?” Danica laughed and spun around. “Where are you?”

Sophia waved so her cousin could see her hand.

“Would you come out of there?”

No point sighing. Danica would lecture her about facial wrinkles or some other nonsense. No point arguing, either, because her cousin would just drag her out of hiding. So she climbed onto the bed.

“Ugh. What are you wearing?”

“Jeans and a t-shirt.”

“I told you we’re going out. Boys will be there. You can’t wear that.”

“You didn’t tell me we were going anywhere, and this is fine.”

“Why do you insist on making my life so difficult? I’ll find you something else. But for the life of me, I don’t know what. We’re not the same size.”

“You borrowed my shorts last week.”

Danica ignored her. “Anything that zips or buttons will never fit, but if I give you leggings, you’ll stretch them out. Your hips are huge.”

This time, Sophia did sigh. They absolutely were the same size. She just wasn’t as tall as her thinks-she-is-a-supermodel cousin. Maybe her hips were a little bigger. But they weren’t huge. They both fit in the same stupid pants.

“Seriously, Dani, this is fine.”

“Well, I guess it’ll have to do. I can’t have you stretching my things.”

Unless it was the bust of a skin-tight shirt, that wouldn’t happen. But the insult arrow hit its target, anyway. Sophia stood in front of the full-length mirror. She untucked her tee, pulled her arms inside, then started stretching it out.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to make it bigger. It’s long enough to hide my hips if it doesn’t cling.”

“Don’t make it too big. I don’t want people saying you buy your clothes at a tent store.”

Was there a happy medium? If there was, Sophia had yet to find it. She climbed back onto the bed.

“What are you doing?” Danica asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Sitting.”

“Come here. We have to do your hair and makeup.”

“Where are we even going?”

“Mom wants to make a cobbler. We’re going to the orchard to pick pears.”

“And I have to look nice for that?”

“I asked Aaron to meet us there. And he said yes!”

Danica had been obsessed with Aaron since second grade, so her joy was warranted. But Sophia was less than thrilled. “And I’m going to be the third wheel. Delightful.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You think I want you staring at us while we’re together?”

“You think I would? Ew.”

“Soph, grow up. We’re double dating.”

“I’m not sure what you have going on is considered a date.”

“It is. Or it will be. And I got you a guy, too.”

“I didn’t ask for one.”

“I got you one, anyway.”

“Who? His weird friend Steve? I’ll pass.” No one liked Steve. He was goofy-looking, which he probably couldn’t help. But he could do something about the bowl haircut. And he could definitely do something about the body odor and the surly disposition.

“You’re not a ten, but you’re not a two. I wouldn’t set my worst enemy up with him.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Hold this.” Danica handed her the curling wand, then she turned to get a brush from her vanity. “Aaron’s bringing his brother.”

“Kyle?”

“That’s the only brother he’s got.”

Sophia’s palms grew sweaty. Her fingers trembled, and the wand slipped from her grip. “Oh!”

Danica yelped as it bounced close to her foot. She swiped it from the floor. “What’s the matter with you? You could have burned me. Or caught the rug on fire.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

She grabbed Sophia’s hand, then held it up to examine it. “Are you retaining water? Your fingers look puffy.”

“I’m not really feeling well.”

“Keep that to yourself, or my mom won’t let you out of the house. Then she’ll make me stay here with you, and I’m not missing my chance to go out with Aaron.”

“But I’m really kind of queasy.”

“Do not ruin this for me, Soph.”

Kyle Freaking Hanson. Sophia’d had a crush on him at least as long as Danica had liked his brother. The only difference was the whole school knew about Danica’s infatuation. Not a soul knew how Sophia felt. Not even her best friend. Even in her diary she referred to him only as H, not even daring to use his initial. It stood for “he” or “him” depending on which pronoun she needed.

Or had her cousin somehow found out? Was this a gift?

Worse, was this a horrible prank? Some elaborate scheme about to blow up in her face, designed to humiliate her in ways she couldn’t even imagine?

No. That wasn’t possible. Sophia had never told a soul how she felt.

If Kyle agreed to this double date, then he was interested in her. Or, at the very least, he wasn’t repulsed by her.

Dare she dream it was the former?

“Okay. You’re all done.” Danica put the wand on her vanity. “Let me just freshen your makeup, then we can go.”

She spent ten agonizing minutes waiting while her cousin slathered cosmetics on her face.

“There. That’s the best I can do for you.”

“Should I tuck in my shirt?”

“God, no. Now, let’s go. We’re running late. Not that we want to look eager. It’s better we make them wait for us than we get there first.”

# # #

It was a fifteen-minute walk to the orchard. Sophia hadn’t been lying when she said her stomach hurt. It was positively in knots. Not that Danica seemed to care. Or even notice. She chattered the whole way, oblivious to her cousin’s distress.

Meanwhile, Sophia got sicker and sicker. And more and more nervous. Her palms were clammy, her mouth was too dry to speak, and she’d worked up quite a sweat for October. No way was she taking off her jacket, because there had to be perspiration rings under her arms. Hopefully the mascara was waterproof, or there were probably black trails running down her cheeks.

Which Danica would bemoan, if she bothered focusing on anything other than herself.

They entered the orchard from the west end, where the winter crop was planted. Danica got a text. She took her phone from her pocket, frowned, replied, then looked around.

“What?” Sophia asked.

“Here.” Danica bent to retrieve a basket. She handed it to her cousin, then gestured to a ladder. “We need to bring my mom some pears, anyway. Climb up and get some. Good ones. It’s for dessert, after all.”

“Why do I have to climb the ladder?”

“Just do it. You complain about everything, you know that? We’re feeding you. The least you can do is climb a stupid tree and pick some fruit.”

Sophia sighed as she clambered up. She stopped at the first branch to pick a plump pear.

“Not that one,” Danica called. “The good fruit is up higher, where no one goes.”

“That’s because the ladder doesn’t go up that high.”

“You’re a tomboy. You’ve been climbing trees since you were able to walk.”

“Why do I feel like you’re trying to get rid of me?”

“Just get us a basket of good pears.”

She felt that way because her cousin was trying to get rid of her. That much was obvious. But there wasn’t anything Sophia could do about that. So she scrambled higher into the tree, the bark digging into the tender flesh of her palms, the leaves tickling her nose so she nearly sneezed, the cloying sweetness of the pears so thick, she could practically taste it.

As she plucked the plump fruit from the branches, dizzy from the heady perfume and the height she’d climbed, her cousin’s trilling laugh—the fake one saved for boys she flirted with—filtered through the canopy from the ground. Sophia leaned on a large branch and moved a few boughs aside so she could see what was going on below her.

Aaron had arrived, alone. Danica sat on the ladder leading up into the tree, and they had their arms around each other.

“—so glad you came.”

“I don’t know why we waited this long to get together.” He nuzzled her neck.

“This was supposed to be a double date, though.”

“Are you complaining? You didn’t bring anyone, either.”

“Well…”

He scoffed. “When I told my brother who it was, he totally bailed. Couldn’t believe I asked. Said it figures we were meeting at the orchard since she was pear-shaped, too.”

If the sweat hadn’t made Sophia’s mascara run, the tears surely were. She shifted her weight to wipe her face, and the basket tipped. One of the pears fell and landed on Aaron’s shoulder.

“What the—” He peered up into the tree.

Danica glared as she searched for her cousin.

Sophia recoiled. The last thing she needed was for Aaron to tell Kyle that she pelted him with pears for calling her a pear-shaped loser.

“Come on, Aaron.” Danica took him by the elbow and pulled him away from the tree. “I’m in the mood for pizza.”

“Didn’t you say something about cobbler?”

“We’ll have that tomorrow. Right now, I want something hot and spicy.”

“I like the way you think.”

Sophia waited at least fifteen minutes before she climbed down the ladder. She had twenty dollars in her pocket and spent it all on her aunt’s stupid fruit. By the time she lugged it back to the house, her arms were numb.

“Where’s Danica?” Aunt Ava asked.

“She bumped into a friend at the corner. I told her I’d bring these to you so you weren’t held up.”

“That was nice of you, dear. Want to help?”

“Do you need help?”

“No. Just thought you might find it fun.”

“I’m going to go hang with Dani, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, sure, honey. Have fun.”

Sophia walked home. She let herself into the house with the hide-a-key Mom didn’t know Dad kept in a magnetic box under the grill. Then she went up to her room. Changed into baggy joggers and an oversized sweatshirt.

Her diary was hidden in the bottom of a leather trunk under her baptism gown and first communion dress. She was ninety-nine percent sure it was the one place in her room no one in her family snooped, so it was the only place she felt safe storing her private thoughts. Or, she used to. No longer.

She dug it out from under pure white silk. Recorded what had happened. Wrote each detail of the day, from the full-length mirror to the fruit falling from her hand. Penned all the words said in between, all the feelings those words spawned. Then she took her diary outside.

Sophia put it on the grill and watched it burn. Every last page. Every. Last. Word.

When the final ember died, she returned the key to its hiding place.

Then she walked back to her aunt’s house.

“Want some pear cobbler, Sophia? I just took it out of the oven.”

“No, thanks, Aunt Ava. I loathe pears.”