I successfully dodge breakfast, faking eating it early and using my normal breakfast time to practice dance moves. I even put a plate in the dishwasher and dirtied a knife in the margarine just so no one would suspect it.

I did take a little milk, if only for some energy and, of course, calcium. That wouldn't last. I realized it wasn't enough to help me, and more would break my fast.

At school, I found Olivia at her locker and gave her the news.

"But Julie, it's not good to skip meals"

"I only skip lunch," I told her, lying. "Mrs. Sanchez does it too, and I could use more time to practice and fewer calories. And that way, you have a good lunch every day"

"I don't know... It feels weird," she said.

But I convinced her. Somehow, I did, but it made me realize that maybe I should really keep it to myself, like I had decided to do with my parents and Edith.

The first class was with Mr. Cook. Sadly, it was mainly a class for him to help students with their short stories.

He did do something special, which I was unsure of. In short, he asked students to raise their hand if they were already done with the short story. With no surprise, I was the only one.

"Wow, Julie, I can't wait to read it. Seeing as you are done, and I am sure you fully understood the assignment, today is all about helping the other students finish. Would you like to help some of your classmates too? I am sure you have a ton of ideas they could benefit from".

Now, here is the thing. Like most teenagers, I don't want to be put on the spot. That's how you get bullied. But at the same time, I wasn't actually bullied when my essay got me semi-famous. Is it because I am a girl? Because I wasn't developed yet? Because Edith is my sister, and many seem to be afraid of her? Or is it that she is dating Charlie, who everyone is definitely afraid of?

I'd like to say it's because I had a good school with little bullying, but that's a lot of crap. Mindy got some light bullying, Olivia had some girls bitch against her, and I saw a few fights between older guys in the courtyard. I was aware it existed. I just wasn't at the center of it somehow.

And yet, I'll have to be honest. I only had a few months of high school before going on Ritalin, and while on that pill, I don't think I would have realized it if I even was bullied. I got the feeling, now that I am an adult, that many bullies don't just want to punish others. Rather, they want them to suffer somehow. Bullying someone who is emotionally unavailable might not have been rewarding for them.

In all cases, that morning, I felt valued somehow.

My first stop, of course, was Olivia. Who else? She might not be quite my best friend, but she is the only friend I have in my English class.

Mr. Cook was with 3 students on the left, two guys and a girl, and he was basically fielding questions. Most of the other students were writing on paper, but a few had laptops. It was starting to pick up, but they weren't mandatory yet.

Of course, I would like to pretend that my laptop for my dyspraxia inspired them, but maybe it just made them realize they could. The one thing, however, is that I could use my laptop for many exams, and they needed to use paper.

Hey, I remember! Once, I came close to being bullied for that while on Ritalin, but that wasn't a good day, and I just ended up collapsing in tears that my brain didn't work well or something. If that was a bullying attempt, it stopped on the spot, and if it was just envy, they realized that they had nothing to envy.

Olivia thanked me again for the help and made me read her work so far. She had spent time adjusting it after we spoke, and honestly? It worked significantly better. And don't think it was only my input. She added many elements that improved the story.

When I was done, I looked around and realized that Lyndon was trying to get my attention. Yes, the same guy from the social studies class.

I went to see him.

"Hey Julie. I know you are great at this thing, and I feel like my twist is super weak. Would you mind helping me out?"

"Lyndon, do you remember that we are in a group for social studies?"

"D'uh. I am reading all I can about Plato and Aristotle. But I am not that good with that stuff"

"Lyndon, the only thing we need from you is to figure out how it was rediscovered. You don't need to know what they talked about"

"Oh, that's easy. I even know how many of their books were found. Ok, that's a load off my shoulders"

"Wait, you actually did the work?"

"Yeah. Wasn't I supposed to?"

That moment made me question something.

Let's pause, because I had that thought later, and I feel like it fits here.

My friends were girls. Mindy, Edith, Marge, and Olivia. The only one with a brother was Marge, whom I then considered to be the worst example of what a boy could be. I didn't know the boys in my classes that much. They didn't notice me because I wasn't formed yet, and I didn't because, well, I didn't desire them yet.

I still didn't. My first erotic dream was too abstract, probably because my desires are not formed yet.

But here is the thing. I didn't see boys non-erotically either. What I mean by that is that I put in my mind that boys were immature, didn't pull their weight, and didn't contribute. I don't know why. When Lyndon actually did the work, it surprised me.

And until lunch that day, I wondered. Lyndon is nice. He is single and doesn't look that bad. Could he be my first boyfriend? I mean, I could do worse.

I still had no desires for him, or, well, anyone, but that morning. At that moment. I wondered.

And I think that this is a great sign of maturity on my part. I might be wrong, but what can I say?

So he talked me through his short story.

In short, it was a mess. A complete mess. It went in every direction, with a rebel fighting against an invading foreign power forming alliances, and the twist is that he is brainwashed to lead the rebels into a trap.

The worst is that it's not even that bad! There is potential.

"You know, there is something in here, Lyndon. I think you just have too many characters"

"But shouldn't we know them since he will betray them?"

"It's a short story. I might be wrong, but I feel like it should be focused more on how he feels when he betrays them. Make us recoil in pain when seeing how his mind betrayed him more than how he betrayed his people"

He looked at me. "You are good. Wow, thanks, Julie."

I smiled and went to help Anna. Or is it Hannah? I don't remember much of her. She is another big-city transplant, and most of those kids were basically ignored by the long-term residents.

Wait, was it us bullying them, and that's why I didn't notice it? I doubt it.

Her story was just far too long and too complex. She didn't know what to cut from it. She was a laptop user, so it was easier to edit.

"You have, like, 3 story lines. You should have one, perhaps two, since your twist mixes them."

"Right, but that they are brothers and sisters works, right?"

"I don't know. Mr. Cook will need to confirm, but I feel like if it was just one brother and one sister, and we think they are enemies, it will work better than three of them. Perhaps, instead of having Peter decide to kill Georgia, he could be given the mission, so when he realizes that it's his sister, he is more confused than regretful or something"

"Right, focus on the emotional journey. I like that. Thanks Julie"

I went to help Robert, but Mr. Cook stopped me. "I'll deal with him"

So, I helped Isabelle. She is a blind spot in my mind. She is a local. I knew of her in grade school, but it's like we never connected. Not as kids, not as teenagers. It's like in my life, she was a background character, and in her life, I was a background character.

She did ask me to be a Facebook friend last year (when I was 21), but that felt out of the blue. I accepted, and she mainly posts inspirational quotes with puppies on them. It's a nice profile, but I still don't know anything about her. She is still a background character in my life...

Her story occurred in school, and her character was studying a chapter for an exam that she can't fail. She puts a lot of emphasis on how bad of a student her character is and how this is her last chance.

When the exam arrives, she realizes that she studied the wrong chapter and cannot answer a single question.

I could help her with some details, but I had to admit that I had to let Mr. Cook handle her twist.

The reality is that I wrote a story about a husband who killed his wife and daughter. Olivia is writing a story about a kidnapped girl. Lyndon's characters will all die in a trap. Hannah wrote a story with assassins and killers. No one dies, but we feel the tension.

But Isabelle? Her story? It is the stuff of complete nightmares. I wasn't ready for a realistic story. For something so close to our reality. It gave me chills, and that evening, nightmares. So bad, I will spare you the twist so you can sleep tonight.

Isabelle, what the hell is wrong with you?

Mr. Cook thanked me at the end of the class and made me stay for a minute during the change of class.

"I heard some of your intervention, Julie. You were good. I'll give you extra credit."

"Wow, thank you, Mr. Cook."

"And Julie? I can't tell you enough how good it is to see you so lively."

I smiled.

Remember when I said that I could tell that Mr. Cook was charming? Well, I think I blushed. He really is a handsome man. I didn't need my desires to be turned on to see it.

I left and had a great morning, but soon enough, I was in the dance studio with Mrs. Sanchez. She was alone; no other students were there today.

"Did you eat already?" she asked. I lied, saying I ate on the way here.

"Good. So, I have other moves to teach you"

"Oh, I learned a ton of them yesterday! My mother took dance lessons and helped me"

"She took some? Nice! Did you tell her about my confession?"

"Oh, I did. She says that she does know you and that you are nice"

She smiles. "She said that? I am so happy. Your parents are nice too. I hope you come to our next event. Your friend Marge is usually there, and I feel like she is lonely."

I look at her. How can I explain that I don't feel good enough with my body when hardcore naturists believe that naturism helps with body perception?

That I do want to return, but that I hate my look so much that I only recently began being able to look at myself in the mirror, and that when I do, I see it as someone else?

So I just lie and tell her, "Soon. I am still getting over the Ritalin"

"Yeah, that's rough. So, you learned new moves"

"First, can I ask a question about social studies"

"No"

"No? Why?"

"I am now your dance coach. We have social studies right after this, I think. If you'd like, I can answer your question as we walk there together, though."

I smile. "This is fine"

So I show her some of my moves. She actually applauds a few times and comments on adding grace and poise to some of my moves, but otherwise, she is impressed.

"Ok, I am very proud of you. You are a super-fast learner that can hold plenty of moves in your mind. Let's do some conjugations"

"Huh?" I said, confused.

"You know a wide dictionary of words. Of moves, let's see how you can learn to put them in a sentence. "

"Oh, you mean do some grammar?"

She looks at me. "Yeah. Don't tell Mr. Cook I used the wrong word", she says, laughing.

"You know he is my English teacher?"

"Julie, he told everyone how amazing your short story is. I love the contrast between how loving your character is and that he is a brutal murderer of his wife and daughter. I still don't understand why he bought a dress for his daughter if she is dead, but otherwise, fantastic"

"Oh, he didn't. He is saying he did"

She hits her forehead. "Of course! Wow. I didn't even see that coming. Hey, you seem to have a vivid imagination. Would you want to do a figurative dance for the recital?"

"Which recital?"

"Oh, Julie, we have two dance shows per year when parents are invited to see their kids dance or play music. The music department also participates. And there is poetry and stuff."

I search deep in me, and I realize that I was at last year's recital. I read my award-winning poem. I realized there was dancing and music, but I didn't pay attention. I was backstage for most of the show, worried.

"Oh, I was there last year for my poem. I didn't realize I would be on stage. Shouldn't I be in a group?"

"You? No. Julie, to be in a group, you not only need to learn the dance moves but also to coordinate. Let's say I put you with the three girls from yesterday. They have years of dancing experience. Years. If I teach them a routine, and one of them messes up, the other two know, from experience, how to recuperate and hide the mistake. If I put you with them, even if they are older, they will recover from your mistakes, but by the time the practice comes up, they will complain of how unprofessional you are. It will demoralize you, and yet you will have done nothing wrong. You will be there with your level of experience and your age and level of maturity, but even if you catch up to them today, by the time you do, they will be elsewhere. Trust me, Julie, I know it sounds stressful to be alone on stage, but it's 10 times worse fearing not being able to follow your co-stars."

I look at her. It does make sense

"And I think that a figurative dance could be just, well, perfect for you", she says.

"What's that?"

"Ok, so there would be a text read on the speakers, perhaps to some background music, and you dance the emotions of the text"

I take it in. "So it's not music, it's a text?"

"Well, set to music."

"But which text?"

"One of yours, of course. You write a story, and then we record you half reading it and half singing"

"You want me to sing?" I say, almost with horror.

"Lightly. Listen, it wouldn't be live. You could do as many takes as you want. Don't worry. At worst, we'll get a singer to sign it. But for now, let's make some sentences, that is, let's chain some moves"

She removed her sweater and then her blouse, showing her black leotard. Then, it's her pants, which are jeggings today.

"Ok, let's try together"

I won't bore you with the details, but we both laughed a lot. She was very impressed with how fast I was learning, even if my perception was that I was super clumsy. "You won't learn to dance in a single day, Julie. You start from zero. Everyone falls, everyone misses. Don't be too hard on yourself. Plus, with your dyspraxia?"

Of course she knew. Still, I had fun. I admit it.

And when we were done, while she got dressed, she confirmed we were right on the right angle for Plato and Aristotle, that we had great ideas.

"You really are intelligent, Julie. Keep going. You are on the right path for everything", she says as we leave the dance studio.

Characters

Episodes