Waking up to who you are requires letting go of who you imagine yourself to be.

—Alan Watts

Saturday, November 22, 9:45 p.m.

Post-yoga

I went to yoga with Leo tonight, and in a weirdly Zen way, I liked it.

Leo doesn’t live too far from me, so he walked to my house and we walked to the yoga studio together. It was the first time I’d told Mom and Dad about him. I think normally they’d have a problem with me hanging out with a guy who’s sixteen, but they’ve been so distracted lately with their own problems, that when I told them I was going with Leo to yoga, they didn’t even question it.

When we got to the yoga studio, Leo introduced me to the teacher, Natasha, who gave me a mat and told me to go at my own pace. Leo set his mat up next to mine. “Don’t do what I do,” he said with a wink.

But as the class started, I couldn’t believe how good he was. He moved from posture to posture in a strong yet graceful way. I was pretty self-conscious at first. But as Natasha led the class through Sun Salutation, she told us to focus on our breathing and to allow our lungs to fill with air. As I concentrated on my breathing, I stopped worrying about what other people were doing and started to relax.

As Natasha went through the rest of the poses, I followed her lead and tried my best to do what she was showing us. My favorite pose was called camel pose. It’s like doing a backbend while you’re on your knees and it was a great stretch.

We finished the class with something called corpse pose or Savasana. You lie flat on your back with your arms and legs spread out and your eyes closed, and you just breathe as a way of meditating. It was incredibly relaxing. I almost fell asleep while we were doing it.

I probably would have, but Natasha was going from person to person rubbing lavender oil on everyone’s temples. When she got to me, I took a deep breath as she massaged the sides of my head, and my nostrils filled with the scent of lavender and burning incense.

Before we left the class, we all sat on our knees and held our hands in prayer position.

“Each day is a new opportunity. The unexpected can happen. Embrace it,” said Natasha. “Move forward without expectation and with gratitude for what is, not worrying about what will be.” Her voice had a soothing quality.

“Namaste,” she said. Then the whole class said “Namaste.” People bowed and then started picking up their mats.

“What’d you think of yoga?” asked Leo as we walked home.

“You’re amazing at it.”

Leo smiled. “It just takes practice. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”

“I’d like that,” I said.

Leo took in my expression. “You look puzzled.”

It’s so cool how Leo is able to get what I’m thinking without me saying anything. “There’s something I’m not sure I get,” I said.

Leo raised an eyebrow.

I’d been mulling over what Natasha said at the end of the class. “What do you think Natasha meant when she talked about moving forward without expectation?”

Leo was uncharacteristically slow to answer. I’m not sure if he was relaxed from the class or formulating his response. “When I started high school, I had an expectation of what it would be like. Middle school was hard for me. I didn’t fit in, and I was sure it would change when I got to high school. I thought the kids would think it was cool that I was so smart.” Leo paused. “But they thought it was weird. They called me Lab Rat. Burner Boy. Broke my glasses. Kid stuff, but I didn’t like it. It’s why I wanted to be homeschooled.”

So this was the part of his story he hadn’t felt comfortable sharing with me when we first talked about why he is homeschooled. I tried to imagine what it would be like to feel so different from the other kids. I’m sure it was hard.

Leo kept talking. “Now I’m going to college, and I’m trying to have no expectations of what it will be like. I don’t want to be disappointed.”

“Do you think having expectations always leads to disappointment?” I asked.

“No,” said Leo. “Sometimes things happen that are better than what you expected. But if you expect things to go a certain way or that people will act how you want them to, you’ll just be disappointed if they don’t.”

He looked down at me over the rim of his glasses. “Like with Brynn. If you expect that she’s going to embrace Sophie, you’ll be disappointed if that’s not what happens.”

“I get what you’re talking about,” I said. “But isn’t it kind of unrealistic not to have expectations?”

“I’m not saying it’s not hard. But what’s the point? If you don’t have expectations, you avoid disappointment.” I was quiet as I thought about what he’d said. Leo continued. “And with Matt. If you don’t expect him to be a nice guy, you won’t be disappointed when he’s a jerk.”

I made a face.

“Sorry if that was hard for you to hear,” said Leo. “You can’t control what other people do.”

That made sense. “But what do I do? Just let Matt go on being a jerk?”

Leo shook his head. “Absolutely not. You tell him how you feel.”

I looked down. “He doesn’t care how I feel.”

Leo shrugged. “It’s not about him. It’s about you.” His eyes met mine. “I know more about chemistry in a lab than chemistry between people, but I think you need closure with Matt.”

“If I have something to say, just say it.”

Leo did a fist pump. “Tell him how you feel, and be done.”

Leo was right, and I knew it. Matt didn’t turn out to be the person I thought he was, and it’s time for me to move on. Once and for all. As we walked, a comfortable silence settled between Leo and me. “You’re so good at so many things,” I said. “Chemistry. Yoga. Knowing what to say to make people feel better. Is there anything you don’t know how to do?”

Leo laughed. “No one knows how to do everything.”

I knew that was the case, but I wanted to know where Leo was deficient. “Name one thing you don’t know how to do,” I said.

“Are you serious?”

I stopped walking and leaned against a tree. I looked at Leo like I was waiting for him to give me an answer.

“OK,” said Leo. He stopped walking too and turned to face me. “One thing I don’t know how to do is kiss a girl.”

I hadn’t expected him to say that. “You’ve never kissed a girl?” I asked softly.

Leo shook his head. Even though it was dark outside, I could see that his face was turning red. I took Leo’s hands in mine and put them around my waist. He looked at me and silently moved closer. I reached up and circled my arms around his neck. Leo is taller than I am, so I stood on my tiptoes. Our mouths were almost aligned.

I tilted my chin toward his, our lips met, and we kissed. It wasn’t a long kiss, just a few seconds, but it felt instinctive and comfortable, like … like we’d kissed each other before. When we were done, I pulled back, and Leo looked at me. “What did you think of kissing?” I asked.

“I think you’re amazing at it.”

I smiled at Leo. “It just takes practice. Maybe we’ll do it again sometime.”

“I’d like that,” said Leo. Then he ruffled the top of my hair with his hand. “You’re cute, April.”

I reached up and did the same thing to his hair. “So are you, Leo.” We both laughed and as he walked me home, and I felt my lungs fill up with air.

Happy air.

Sunday, November 23, 4:15 p.m.

I talked to Matt. I did it, and it was simple. I went to his house after lunch, rang the bell, and when he opened the door, I told him what I’d come to say. No hesitation.

“When we started going out, you were sweet. I really liked you, and I thought you liked me too. But you hurt me this summer when you kissed Sophie while I was at camp. You didn’t even seem like you were sorry you did it. You said we’d see what things were like when school started. Then you kissed a girl at a party I happened to be at, and when I saw you do it, you told me I’m creepy.”

Matt opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but I didn’t give him an opportunity. “It doesn’t matter what happened,” I said. “You didn’t turn out to be the person I thought you were.”

“April,” said Matt, and he paused. Then he did his head bob thing. I don’t know if he was stalling while he was thinking of what he wanted to say or if that was all he had to say. Either way, it didn’t matter. I was done. I turned and walked back to my house, and as I did, I felt good. Actually, better than good, like a huge weight had been lifted off my chest. No more wait-and-see for me. Finally, I can say I’m done with Matt Parker.

And mean it.