Dedicating Every Day to You

Chapter Eight

On Monday morning, I'm up and out of bed at six thirty in the morning. I didn't used to be this excited about Jackson Middle School, but that was before I got to study ballet and choral arts for actual credit.
I have my clothes all picked out. My binders, schedule, and books are in a stack on my dresser. I have my pointe, jazz, and tap shoes (requisite) in my dance bag with my tights, shorts, and leotard. In short, I'm ready.

I take a shower, making my hair manageable for once in its existence, and then get dressed. I picked out a fairly simple outfit- a cute purple flannel that I found when we were shopping on Friday, a shirt which reads "Wild Hearts Can't Be Broken", skinny jeans that don't inhibit my climbing ability, and my beloved black Converse.

I also have a little yarn bracelet, like an old friendship bracelet, but cleaner. It's made of three colors of thread- blue, green, and yellow. Alex, of all people, bought three yesterday at the mall. One for me, one for him, and one for John. The bracelets are beautiful, and when I slide mine on, a little piece of paper falls out.

Kathryn, sorry I couldn't be there on your first day of school. Washington called me in to discuss financial stuff. John is going to make you breakfast and bring you to school. I'll be home in time for dinner so we can talk about your day.

Love, Alex

I fold the note and tuck it into my pocket, and then bring my books and dance bag downstairs. As always, John is in the kitchen with his apron on, flipping pancakes. He's listening to loud rock music and dancing around as he pours batter and moves steaming cakes.

"I love Bon Jovi!" I call, laughing and spinning into the kitchen to give him a hug. I dance around with him, singing along and sliding chocolate chip-strawberry pancakes (yum) onto two plates.
"Good, Alex hasn't ruined you with his showtunes yet." John starts slicing strawberries as I pour him a cup of coffee.
"I like showtunes! But you can't resist Eighties rock." I stir the coffee. "Can I have coffee?"

He winks conspiratorially. "Just a little bit. Don't tell Alex."
I giggle and pour a second cup, filling it only halfway with actual coffee, then adding sugar and milk until the cup is full.

We sit down at the breakfast table, each of us with a plate of pancakes and a cup of coffee.
"You excited about school?"
I swallow my mouthful of chocolatey pancake and smile. "Yeah! I'm a little nervous, though. I don't have the best singing voice, and sometimes my dancing is a disaster."
John squeezes my hand. "You've got nothing to be nervous about. I've heard you sing, and you're...not as bad as Alex is. Plus, your dancing has to be good. You got into the school, didn't you?"

I feel instantly reassured. "Thanks. Wait, when did you hear me sing?"
He cracks up. "You sing showtunes in the shower. You're loud!"
I roll my eyes, and he stops laughing. "Seriously though. Your dancing is really good. Just hold your head up and you're gonna be fine."

I give him a hug. "Thanks, John. What are you going to do today without me to entertain you?"
"I've got a job interview today at Keller's Diner on West and Sixty-Fifth. After that, I'm going to start dinner. I'm making your favorite tonight."
I clap. "Oreo Pop·Tarts?"

"Yeah! Wait, no. Those are terrible. I'm making fettuccine Alfredo and garlic bread. Your favorite and Alex's favorite."
I grin and bring my plate to the sink. "Better make extra bread- half of it'll be gone by the time I get home from school."
"Of course it will. Now go get in the car! I have to be at Keller's for eight."

In the car, we don't talk. The radio plays, and we get to school at seven fifteen, five minutes before school starts. I run inside, having received my locker number and combo by email, throw my things into locker 789, and slide into my desk in homeroom at seven nineteen.

"Gutsy," says the girl next to me. She's pretty, with dark skin and a long black braid. Her eyes sparkle with mischief. She's wearing a pair of jeans not unlike mine, a purple blouse, boots, and a beret. It would look ridiculous on me, but she pulls it off. "I like it."
I smile at her, in what I hope is a winning way.
"Theodosia Burr," she continues, extending a hand for me to shake. "I'm thirteen."
"Kathryn," I say, grinning now. "Kathryn Laurens-Hamilton."
"Oh yeah, you're the Hamilton chick. How old are you?"

Theodosia has a sort of funny bravado, where she's clearly in control and not afraid to show it. I try to mimic it as I shift my posture and flick my hair out of my eyes. "I'm thirteen, too."
She bursts out laughing. "I like you, kid. Besides, we're some of the youngest here. We've got to stick together." Theodosia adjusts her beret. "Let's be friends."

"Quiet, please!" The homeroom teacher, an elderly woman draped in layers of shawls, barks.
"Meet me at lunch," Theodosia whispers, then sits up straight at her own desk.

My first five minutes of school and I've already made a new friend! I'm geekily excited about this now. As our teacher takes attendance, I mentally plan out all of the fun things that Theodosia and I can do together.