Becky's Kiss by Nicholas Fisher

could figure out how to do it. She actually ached inside. She wanted to write him stupid poems that he’d adore, and call him every night. She wanted to hold hands, and meet after school, and tell him her life story and listen to his.
    Mostly, she wanted to hold him. Forever.
    She crossed Stonybrook Road, turning left down toward Rock Ridge Park. Everything was in such sharp focus! The curve of the road was flanked by majestic trees, some of their branches making statements against the sky and others drooping and weeping, their beautiful leaves fluttering in the breeze like they were whispering little secrets to each other.
    Becky blinked heavily and wondered why it hurt so bad, loving someone. It was so deep and sheer it almost felt like she couldn’t bear it another minute. She plodded forward over the small concrete bridge and started making her way up the hill toward her house on the corner of Stonybrook and Violet Street. She raised her chin a little. If Danny wanted her to run, well, she was going to run like heck every day. He wanted her to throw harder, well, she was going to put a smoking hole in that catcher’s mitt. Hopefully.
    She let herself in through the laundry room door, and the house felt stale, empty. She passed through the kitchen, stopping briefly to open the fridge, look inside without really looking, and close it with vague disappointment. The hall was thick with shadows and the living room was plain, as always. And she had friends coming over tomorrow after practice! It was odd…back home, everyone had simply migrated to the mall or her other friend’s houses.
    People just didn’t visit the Michigan’s, probably because it always seemed her parents were on the brink of disaster all the time. And now she was hosting. She was ashamed of herself, but she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed for what was to come. What if Mother started telling her crazy, neurotic stories? What if Dad came in red-eyed and drunk, slurring and mumbling apologies for no reason, asking incoherent questions? She would die, that’s all. Total flat-line.
    Her room was dark, even with the shades up, and she turned on the overhead switch. Now, it was too bright for comfort, and the light cover had Charlie Brown and Snoopy designs on it from the previous home-owners. She had to change that, had to change a lot of things, and Becky realized that it might be months before she really felt at home here in Scutters Falls.
    She took off her back pack and removed the textbooks. It was going to be tough studying tonight, especially when she had Danny on the brain, but she was going to try. Well, maybe. What was his last name, anyway? And if he wasn’t a pitcher, where did he play defensively?
    Becky reached absently to the lower right corner of her book bag for her pen and pencil case, and when she drew it out, the Rutledge Tigers baseball cap caught on her sleeve, surfaced, and tumbled onto the bed. She picked it up and looked at it. She couldn’t just stick it on her head, because her hair was too big and busy. It would look ridiculous. She turned it to the back and saw there was a pretty big opening there, above the band with the hook and loop strap, so she gathered her hair and did it by feel, pushing the stalk through the hole and pulling the hat over her crown.
    Becky looked in the mirror and gasped.
    The image looking back at her with the blue hat and waterfall of auburn hair settling behind the shoulders was that of a stranger. Sort of.
    Suddenly, she was cute.
    For real-cute, like hot .
    She yanked the hat off and her hair came back through the hole, a few strands catching and stinging. And there in the mirror was the old sad-eyed Becky. She stared at herself another full second, and then anxiously pulled her hair into a ponytail, took the hat, jammed the stalk through the hole, and pulled it forward by the brim.
    Again, she changed, but this time she saw the transformation happen right there before her. It was hard to