The Upside of Falling

This is fake, I reminded myself. And it was safer like that.
“What was that for?” Brett asked.
“For show,” I said, all cool and casual.
Then he was smiling again. We were back on track.
The couple sitting in front of us stood up and disappeared into the trees. Brett
nudged me, wiggled his eyebrows, and made these very weird noises. It was
dumb. I laughed anyway. Then I realized that, aside from his football games, this
was kind of my first time doing something normal. Like, high school normal. I
hadn’t gone to a party before. And it was all because of Brett. It was like he was
slowly showing me that there was actually more to school than sitting in a class
and taking notes. Which used to be all I wanted. But now, I was kind of
wondering, had I been missing out all these years?
Brett stood up suddenly, said, “C’mon. We should get out before the rumor
reaches Tallani or Ryan,” and bent over again. I jumped onto his back and we
were off, moving through the sloshy grass. People were watching us tonight, and
it was the first time I really felt like we were a couple. I mean, holding hands in
the hall was one thing. But tonight it actually felt like we were dating. And even
if it was fake, it was still fun.
I was thinking that Brett must have been here before because his feet knew
exactly where to go when he stopped in front of the lake. I sucked in a breath.
Wow. It was beautiful. It almost made up for the gross walk over. From here,
you could see where the two lakes met in the middle. There was still a sliver of
land between them, like two halves of a heart that couldn’t meet quite yet. And
the moon was directly over the lake, making a small patch of water turn silver.
I went to jump off Brett’s back, but his grip on my legs tightened.
“Brett?” I was whispering, like if I spoke too loud then it would ruin the
peacefulness.
“Yeah?”

---

“What are you thinking about?”
“Jelly bells,” he said.
I smacked my foot against his thigh. “Be serious.”
“I am. Doesn’t the moon kind of look like one?”
Then I was laughing really hard because he was right, it totally did.
Brett’s hands loosened around my knees, and I hopped off his back. The
ground was solid around this side of the lake. You could barely hear the people
back at the party. Their voices were just a slight murmur.
“I get the appeal now,” I said. “This is so pretty.”
“Makes you want to sneak off into the trees, huh?”
I snorted. “Not that pretty.”
Brett bumped his shoulder against mine.
I bumped his back.
“Sometimes,” he said, “I forget places like this exist in Crestmont. Like I’m
so focused on wanting to leave after high school that I forget there are reasons to
stay.”
“What do you want to do after we graduate?” I asked, realizing I didn’t
know.
Brett was staring intently at the water. “I don’t know. Play football? I’m
waiting to see what colleges are interested. I’m hoping to move somewhere big,
like Atlanta. I want to be in a town that has more than a few thousand people.”
“What about your family?”
“I think my parents want that future for me more than I do.” Right. His dad’s
football dream. “What do you want to do?” He turned away from the lake now,
watching me instead. I shifted from foot to foot, not knowing what to say.
“College is hard. I don’t think my mom has the money to pay for it.”
“You’re smart,” Brett said, “you can get a good scholarship.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I might have to stay here, help out at the bakery for a
while and save up some money. College can wait.”
“Yeah. Sometimes I wish the future could too.”
We were quiet then. There were crickets chirping and the sound of water
lapping against the shore. It was so much better here than back in the clearing.
Then a weird noise came from the trees, a rustle, and I latched onto Brett’s arm.
“Did you hear that?” I whispered.
Brett took out his phone, turned on the flashlight, and pointed it in the
direction the sound came from. “Hello?” he called.
The noise came again. This time it wasn’t a rustle. It was more of a—
Moan.
The light exposed a couple hiding in the trees. The girl yelled, reaching up to

---

cover her chest. I looked away, feeling the secondhand embarrassment. Brett
fumbled with the flashlight, pointing it in my face while trying to shut it off.
“Sorry!” he called out, walking backward. “We’ll leave now. Uh, carry on.”
We ran back through the forest, laughing so hard we had to stop to catch our
breath.
My curfew was in an hour, but Brett had no intention of allowing the night to
end with us catching two people going at it in the woods. So we hopped in his
car and drove two towns over, which sounds far, but it barely took fifteen
minutes. Why two towns? Brett wanted fast food. Apparently the only
“respectable” burger, shake, and fries in all of Georgia were at Paul’s Diner.
There was no Paul’s Diner in Crestmont.
When our order was ready, we sat in Brett’s car with the windows down,
munching away on junk food at midnight. In five minutes I watched him inhale a
burger, chocolate milk shake, and a large fry. It was equally impressive and
gross. Now he was stealing my fries and dipping them into my strawberry shake
and I was kind of annoyed but not really. The night was going well, so I was
rolling with it.
“How do you know about this place?” I asked, slurping my shake. I was
learning so much about Georgia tonight. And a little more about Brett.
He pointed down the road. “There’s a park a few miles down. This huge
stretch of grass with soccer fields and stuff. My dad and I used to come here
when I was a kid on the weekends. This was before his promotion, back when he
was home more often. We’d throw a football around for a few hours, then drive
here for lunch. It was this tradition we had.”
“My dad used to take me for ice cream after class,” I said. “That was our
thing.”
Brett dipped his fry in my shake, held it out for me. “Is this our thing, then?”
he asked. “Eating fast food at midnight in my car?”
I opened my mouth. He stuck the fry in. “I am totally okay with that.”
“Me too.”
“Why does your dad travel so much?” I knew his family had money, but I
had no idea why.
“Have you seen that new hotel being built off the interstate?” I had. It was
right when you drove into Crestmont, a few miles after the welcome sign. It was
supposed to have its grand opening at the end of the month. “There’s a bunch of
them throughout the country, but this is the first one being built here. My dad
works for them. He’s the chief financial officer, does all that money stuff. So he
flies around the country and checks in on different locations. Makes sure
everything’s running smoothly, I guess.”

---

“What about your mom?”
“She doesn’t work.”
I wondered what that was like, to have enough money to feel secure. Not
having to worry about the price of tuition, student loans, or how much textbooks
were going to cost. Having the ability to go to whatever school you wanted to.
“My mom always worked. She used to be a nurse,” I said. “When she first
opened the bakery, she was worried. It wasn’t doing that well. Only a few
customers per day. She invested so much money into it and I don’t know what
we would have done if it failed. A few months later, it started to take off. People
were talking about it in town and we started getting huge orders. That’s when I
began helping out there. I don’t think my mom expected the bakery to become
so popular; she only hired, like, three people.”
“I’m happy her business took off,” Brett said. “I don’t know what I’d do
without jelly bells.”
I smiled at him. “Me either.”
“You know what would make this moment even better?”
“Jelly bells?”
“That too, yeah, but I was gonna say another burger. I’ll be right back.”
How was he still hungry? And how did he stay in such good shape? There
must have been some secret gym routine he was on, plus the intense football
training.
I was watching Brett outside the car; he was rummaging through his pockets,
probably looking for his wallet, when a car pulled into the spot in front of us. I
was expecting more teenagers craving something greasy like us. Instead it was
an older couple holding hands, and wow, that car looked expensive. Like, way
too expensive for this town. Brett must’ve noticed them too because he was
hovering outside, watching. I thought he was admiring their ride because he was
standing there, frozen. One of his hands was still on the door handle. Did all
guys have a thing for nice cars?
But then I really looked at his face. His mouth was wide open and he looked
like he’d just been punched in the gut.
He jumped back inside, mumbled something about having to leave, and sped
out of the parking lot. I barely had time to put my seat belt on and went flying
into the door when he turned onto the road. “Slow down!” I yelled, placing the
cup between my thighs so it wouldn’t spill. “Brett!”
He was driving so fast. I looked at him and it was like he was in a different
world. His eyes were locked on the road; his hands had a death grip on the
wheel. His lips were moving. Was he talking to himself? He looked like he was
either going to cry or hit something.

---

“Brett, you’re scaring me. Slow down.” He was mumbling so low I turned
the radio off to hear him. “What?”
“I have to get out of here,” he said.
“Brett.” I reached out, placed my hand on his arm. “Pull over.”
“He’s not supposed to be here.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
I watched the needle on the speedometer go higher. Higher. Higher. Until it
was nearly at one hundred. We were going to crash and die and my body would
be covered in a strawberry milk shake when the police found us.
“Brett.” I leaned across the middle, placed my hand directly over his on the
wheel. “You need to slow down.”
Brett blinked, shook his head, then glanced down at my hand on his. He
looked at me, must’ve seen the terrified look on my face, and swore under his
breath. Then we were slowing down. Finally, Brett pulled over, shut the engine
off, and buried his head in his hands.
I was speechless.
I breathed in. Out. In. Out. Did a mental count of my body parts. Wiggled
my toes. Wiggled my fingers. Ten each. I told myself we were both okay. When
I was sure I could speak, I said, “What was that?”
No response.
“Brett?”
Nothing.
“You’re freaking me out. Did you know those people?” It was too dark for
me to see their faces clearly, but they didn’t look like anyone I knew. And
Crestmont was pretty small, so I’d probably recognize them at least.
Then I remembered that no, we weren’t in Crestmont anymore. So how did
Brett know them?
He lifted his head off the wheel and rested it back against the seat. His eyes
were closed, his chest moving in and out too quickly. Was he having a panic
attack? Should I call an ambulance? When I took my phone out, he placed his
hand on top of mine. “I’m fine,” he said, sounding anything but.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who was that?” I tried instead.
“I don’t want to know.”
This was making less and less sense by the second.
Then my heart dropped, plummeted right into my stomach, because Brett
said, “I think that was my dad. And that woman wasn’t my mom.”
Oh.

---

Oh.
“But I— You said your dad was in Ohio.” As soon as I said it, I realized how
dumb it was. And then everything sort of clicked into place, a puzzle neither of
us wanted to solve.
“I thought he was,” Brett whispered.
I reached for him—his hand, his arm, anything. I latched on. Tight. I knew
what it felt like to drown without water. It was worse when no one was there to
bring you back to shore.
I held his hand. Squeezed it really tight.
“Are you sure that was him?” I asked because it was dark out and I was
desperate for this look to leave Brett’s face.
Brett didn’t say anything. We sat there, parked on the side of the road while
cars rushed by. I didn’t know what to say. Hell, I’d been through this too. Well,
a different version, but it was still the same. And if that really was his dad, I
knew there were no words to help. No “sorry” could fix this wound.
“Do you have a book?” Brett asked.
What? “Um. Yeah. Somewhere in here.” I pulled my bag onto my lap,
rummaged through it.
“I need a distraction.”
Right. That made sense. Mom’s baking. My reading. They were both
distractions.
“Do you have it?” he asked again, sounding panicked.
I pulled out the book. Brett sighed, undid his seat belt, and reclined his chair
back. He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. He looked so
different than he had earlier. Smaller. Sadder.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, wanting to reach out and hold him.
“Read to me” was all he said.
“I don’t think you’ll like this book.” It was romantic. Like, embarrassingly
so.
“Please, Becca.”
I flipped open to the page I had bookmarked and began to read. My voice
sounded weird at first, more high-pitched, but then it evened out and I started to
sound like me again.
Reading out loud was weird. I was so used to occupying this fictional world
alone that having Brett there with me felt different. Not a bad different. Just
different. I wasn’t sure if he was even listening. He kind of looked like he was
sleeping. I kept pausing after each paragraph, sneaking a peek at him.
After I finished the first chapter, our eyes met. He said, “Keep going.”
So I kept reading.

---

That was the first time I missed curfew.

---

Brett
HE WASN’T IN OHIO.
That was his car. His suit. Those were his hands holding someone else’s.
That was my dad.
But it wasn’t my mom.
It didn’t make any sense, because my dad would never . . .
I couldn’t even think the word. It all felt wrong. A never-ending nightmare.
He was supposed to be on a business trip. In Ohio. At a hotel. He was
supposed to be in meetings and talking to staff and dealing with financial stuff.
He wasn’t supposed to be at diners in the middle of the night with a woman I’d
never seen before. And he was not supposed to be holding her hand like that.
Like Becca had said, it was dark. And even though I knew it was my dad,
there was this voice in my head that kept saying but what if it wasn’t? I clung to
that voice because it was easier to be confused than to be angry. With confusion
there were still possibilities; it wasn’t black and white just yet. And there was a
shred of hope somewhere in the gray that I needed right now.
It was better than the opposite: convincing myself it really was my dad. What
would that mean? Were all those business trips a lie? They couldn’t be. He
brought back souvenirs from each state. But what else was he doing while he
was away? What was he doing when he wasn’t working?
Then I remembered when he came home from New York last weekend and
didn’t bring me anything. Was he even in New York? Probably not. He was here
the whole time. Wasn’t he?