Teaser: Lesbian!Brendon
I should be writing my Big Bang and four or five different research papers, so of course I started writing this. I blame harriet_vane and her Brendon's-appearance theories.
When Bren is fourteen, she decides to have her first crush on Dale Hallman.
She decides this in the middle of a Mia Maid sleepover, in her brightest hot pink polkadot pajamas that are maybe a size too small, but seriously--seriously--it's not like Lucia has any brothers or anything, and Bren loves her hot pink polka dot pajamas. Also it's just possible she didn't tell her mom she was packing the pajamas she's been strictly forbidden to wear around the house anymore.
It's Bren's first Mia Maid sleepover, and she wants to make a good impression. Of course, mostly it's the same old girls that Bren has been having sleepovers with for six years now, but there's also Hannah Shleissmann, who just moved into the ward from California, for crying out loud. She's tall and pretty-almost a Laurel, really, she's moving up soon-and so far she's been kindly pretending not to notice what a spazz Bren can be. Bren is really hoping not to tip her over the edge into where the entire ward has been swimming since she was, oh, four. Hannah wears asymmetrical, spangly dresses to church and ancient band t-shirts with her jeans for Mutual, and Bren was sure Hannah would wear something just as awesome to the sleepover.
Oversized Ariel t-shirt. Bren knew it.
They've done the pizza and ice cream sundaes, and the glitter is drying on the giant valentines they're sending to their ward's missionaries-Linda's brother and Tammi's sister and Drew Dillingham, who used to make Brenda's brothers give back her scriptures when they stole them after church. Brenda maybe spent a little extra time on the rainbow for his poster. Now's the time for curling up with jellybeans and mini candy bars before they put in a chick flick.
It starts out simpler, breezier, but inevitably it becomes about boys, because some things really are, honest to goodness, just like the movies. Bren can feel herself getting quieter, her usual chatter funneling into playing with the zipper on her sleeping bag.
"-you're awfully quiet, Bren," Hannah says, and Bren looks up at her, startled. She's smiling, but she noticed. She realized Bren is normally going about five thousand miles a minute, and Bren feels a hiccup lurking in her throat.
"Don't you think Jeremy's cute?" Hannah prods.
Bren shrugs. Jeremy's nice enough, she guesses.
"This isn't like you," Hannah says, and her voice is starting to sound teasing. Like everybody else when Bren gets quiet, like it's impossible for her to be still, and just because it is doesn't mean Bren likes having it pointed out. "Is there a boy, Bren?" Hannah asks, and all the breath whooshes out of Bren at once, because it isn't about her spazziness after all.
"No," she says, quickly.
"Oooooooooo," Hannah says, and the other girls pick it up like coyotes in the desert.
"No, really," Bren says.
"C'mon," Hannah says, "you can tell me," and her smile is engaging, confidential, and she wasn't teasing Bren about being a monkey on crack.
"Okay," Bren says in a rush, and starts frantically searching the range of boys with whom she comes into daily contact. "He's-in orchestra with me," she throws out, and hey, yeah, that makes sense, that she would like a boy she can talk to. None of the girls here are in the orchestra, they won't know, this can't come back to bite her.
"A musician? Classy," Hannah declares, and Bren feels her stomach warm a little. "What does he play?"
Bren lets her eyes drop coyly, putting on a performance, just a little, while she thinks. "Trumpet," she says.
"Strong lips?" Hannah says, grinning, and Bren's a little shocked even though she shouldn't be.
"Well, I mean, I'm only fourteen," she says. "We aren't dating, or anything," and Hannah looks disappointed and Marianne looks smug. "But I like to think so," she adds, and Hannah brightens.
"What's he look like?" Lucia pipes up.
Bren really isn't ready for the inquisition, jeez. "Blond," she says wildly. "And he has the most gorgeous-eyes." Oh, please, let nobody have noticed that pause. "And he's tall, like, his arms are the length of my entire body," not that that's saying much, because Bren is still a shrimp.
"What's his name?" Tammi asks, and oh, she had to ask that? Tammi goes to Bren's school, she's gonna know.
There must have been somebody in the back of Bren's mind when she started dropping horseshoe nails like confetti. Tall, blond, trumpet-hah. "Dale," she says, and hopes she doesn't sound too triumphant.
"Like Chippendale?" Hannah asks, snickering.
"I guess," Bren says uncertainly. She's growing up in the suburbs of Vegas and everything, but she doesn't really look at billboards like that.
"You'll have to tell me all about him sometime." Hannah nudges her in the ribs conspiratorially, and Bren smiles back helplessly.
So she tries having a crush on Dale at school on Monday. A kind of experiment. She smiles at him when he walks in the room, and he smiles back warily before going back to his conversation with the percussionist. Bren gives up for the moment; she doesn't like the percussionist. He doesn't keep time. She goes back to reworking her fingering, trying to figure out why her third stop seems to be sticking a little in the fourth measure. She figures out the flute problem, but then Mrs. Dunkin comes in with notes for the Princess Bride piece and Bren is too busy stopping herself from vibrating with excitement to think about a boy.
When they're packing up, though, Dale's elbow brushes against hers, and she looks up to see him smiling at her. "Uh-how are you?" he asks, with a funny expression on his face.
"Fine," she tells him, snapping her case closed before she's late to English. "You?"
"I'm-good," he says, and reaches out towards her flute case. Bren snatches it hastily away.
He stops smiling, and backs up a step or two. "I'll see you around," he says, ducking his head away.
"Sure," she says, baffled, and charges off through the hallway. She's past three classrooms before she realizes he was actually standing kind of close. Possibly she should have made a move or something. Although how you make a move in the orchestra room is beyond Bren.
Well, she'll try again later, she thinks, shrugging her bag carelessly to the ground as she settles into her seat. But somehow she never gets around to it.
He's always hanging with the stupid percussionist, for one thing.
When Bren is fourteen, she decides to have her first crush on Dale Hallman.
She decides this in the middle of a Mia Maid sleepover, in her brightest hot pink polkadot pajamas that are maybe a size too small, but seriously--seriously--it's not like Lucia has any brothers or anything, and Bren loves her hot pink polka dot pajamas. Also it's just possible she didn't tell her mom she was packing the pajamas she's been strictly forbidden to wear around the house anymore.
It's Bren's first Mia Maid sleepover, and she wants to make a good impression. Of course, mostly it's the same old girls that Bren has been having sleepovers with for six years now, but there's also Hannah Shleissmann, who just moved into the ward from California, for crying out loud. She's tall and pretty-almost a Laurel, really, she's moving up soon-and so far she's been kindly pretending not to notice what a spazz Bren can be. Bren is really hoping not to tip her over the edge into where the entire ward has been swimming since she was, oh, four. Hannah wears asymmetrical, spangly dresses to church and ancient band t-shirts with her jeans for Mutual, and Bren was sure Hannah would wear something just as awesome to the sleepover.
Oversized Ariel t-shirt. Bren knew it.
They've done the pizza and ice cream sundaes, and the glitter is drying on the giant valentines they're sending to their ward's missionaries-Linda's brother and Tammi's sister and Drew Dillingham, who used to make Brenda's brothers give back her scriptures when they stole them after church. Brenda maybe spent a little extra time on the rainbow for his poster. Now's the time for curling up with jellybeans and mini candy bars before they put in a chick flick.
It starts out simpler, breezier, but inevitably it becomes about boys, because some things really are, honest to goodness, just like the movies. Bren can feel herself getting quieter, her usual chatter funneling into playing with the zipper on her sleeping bag.
"-you're awfully quiet, Bren," Hannah says, and Bren looks up at her, startled. She's smiling, but she noticed. She realized Bren is normally going about five thousand miles a minute, and Bren feels a hiccup lurking in her throat.
"Don't you think Jeremy's cute?" Hannah prods.
Bren shrugs. Jeremy's nice enough, she guesses.
"This isn't like you," Hannah says, and her voice is starting to sound teasing. Like everybody else when Bren gets quiet, like it's impossible for her to be still, and just because it is doesn't mean Bren likes having it pointed out. "Is there a boy, Bren?" Hannah asks, and all the breath whooshes out of Bren at once, because it isn't about her spazziness after all.
"No," she says, quickly.
"Oooooooooo," Hannah says, and the other girls pick it up like coyotes in the desert.
"No, really," Bren says.
"C'mon," Hannah says, "you can tell me," and her smile is engaging, confidential, and she wasn't teasing Bren about being a monkey on crack.
"Okay," Bren says in a rush, and starts frantically searching the range of boys with whom she comes into daily contact. "He's-in orchestra with me," she throws out, and hey, yeah, that makes sense, that she would like a boy she can talk to. None of the girls here are in the orchestra, they won't know, this can't come back to bite her.
"A musician? Classy," Hannah declares, and Bren feels her stomach warm a little. "What does he play?"
Bren lets her eyes drop coyly, putting on a performance, just a little, while she thinks. "Trumpet," she says.
"Strong lips?" Hannah says, grinning, and Bren's a little shocked even though she shouldn't be.
"Well, I mean, I'm only fourteen," she says. "We aren't dating, or anything," and Hannah looks disappointed and Marianne looks smug. "But I like to think so," she adds, and Hannah brightens.
"What's he look like?" Lucia pipes up.
Bren really isn't ready for the inquisition, jeez. "Blond," she says wildly. "And he has the most gorgeous-eyes." Oh, please, let nobody have noticed that pause. "And he's tall, like, his arms are the length of my entire body," not that that's saying much, because Bren is still a shrimp.
"What's his name?" Tammi asks, and oh, she had to ask that? Tammi goes to Bren's school, she's gonna know.
There must have been somebody in the back of Bren's mind when she started dropping horseshoe nails like confetti. Tall, blond, trumpet-hah. "Dale," she says, and hopes she doesn't sound too triumphant.
"Like Chippendale?" Hannah asks, snickering.
"I guess," Bren says uncertainly. She's growing up in the suburbs of Vegas and everything, but she doesn't really look at billboards like that.
"You'll have to tell me all about him sometime." Hannah nudges her in the ribs conspiratorially, and Bren smiles back helplessly.
So she tries having a crush on Dale at school on Monday. A kind of experiment. She smiles at him when he walks in the room, and he smiles back warily before going back to his conversation with the percussionist. Bren gives up for the moment; she doesn't like the percussionist. He doesn't keep time. She goes back to reworking her fingering, trying to figure out why her third stop seems to be sticking a little in the fourth measure. She figures out the flute problem, but then Mrs. Dunkin comes in with notes for the Princess Bride piece and Bren is too busy stopping herself from vibrating with excitement to think about a boy.
When they're packing up, though, Dale's elbow brushes against hers, and she looks up to see him smiling at her. "Uh-how are you?" he asks, with a funny expression on his face.
"Fine," she tells him, snapping her case closed before she's late to English. "You?"
"I'm-good," he says, and reaches out towards her flute case. Bren snatches it hastily away.
He stops smiling, and backs up a step or two. "I'll see you around," he says, ducking his head away.
"Sure," she says, baffled, and charges off through the hallway. She's past three classrooms before she realizes he was actually standing kind of close. Possibly she should have made a move or something. Although how you make a move in the orchestra room is beyond Bren.
Well, she'll try again later, she thinks, shrugging her bag carelessly to the ground as she settles into her seat. But somehow she never gets around to it.
He's always hanging with the stupid percussionist, for one thing.