How to Get Ainsley Bishop to Fall in Love With You by T. M. Franklin Page B

for this moment for two years. Granted, I’d been a little more excited before my Ainsley plan took a detour, but still.
    “All right then, open,” he said. I looked above his head, avoiding his huge hairy nostrils. Dr. Schulz was kind of hairy all over, and he wheezed when he breathed, but I generally tried to avoid thinking about that, too. I tried to avoid breathing as well, especially when I had an appointment after lunch.
    He had a thing for garlic.
    “Okay, I’m going to remove the rubber bands first,” he murmured. “You okay?”
    I said something in the affirmative around his gloved hands. Somehow he always seemed to understand me.
    “Good . . . good.” He reached for a tool off the tray. “Time for the wires.”
    I clutched the armrests, my mouth wide open and my heart beating steadily as he clipped the wires and removed the brackets and adhesive. In no time at all, he picked up a mirror and flipped off the light, stepping on the pedal to raise the head of the chair.
    “You ready to see?” he asked.
    I swallowed and ran my tongue over my teeth. They felt . . . weird. Smooth, almost slimy. But I nodded, and he handed me the mirror. I held it up and took a deep breath before baring my teeth. After two years, it was strange to see them without the glint of metal. My gums were a little swollen, which made my teeth look even weirder—kind of smaller than I expected. I couldn’t even wrap my head around it, to be honest, and I couldn’t say if I looked better, although my head told me I must. I couldn’t really look worse, right?
    “Bite looks good,” Dr. Schultz said, tugging my lips open a little further, then reaching for the mirror. “You’ll need to wear the retainers for a while.” At my panicked look, he winked, “But I think we can limit that to after school and nights, okay? We’ll see how it goes for a couple of weeks, and then you can probably go to nights only.”
    I smiled, my lips sliding easily against my teeth. “Cool.”
    The drive home was an exercise in restraint, as I tried to keep from examining my new mouth in the rearview mirror. My mom met me at the door.
    “Smile,” she said, the order softened by the quirk of her own mouth. She squealed when I obeyed and pulled me into a tight hug. “You’re so handsome,” she gushed. “I mean, you were before of course, but even more now.”
    I was surprised to find my dad home from work, and we sat down to a meal of pizza and all the stuff I couldn’t eat while I had braces—popcorn, taffy, corn on the cob, apples. It was ridiculous and kind of awesome.
    “Oh, I forgot the beef jerky,” my mom said, tossing her napkin on the table as she stood up.
    “I’ll get it.” My dad nearly knocked his chair over in his haste, and Sherlock and I turned identical stunned expressions his way. He smiled nervously at my mom.
    “It’s in the cupboard next to the fridge,” she said, and I noticed her cheeks were a little flushed.
    Weird .
    My dad retrieved the bag of jerky and dropped it in front of my mom with a grin.
    “Thanks,” she said.
    “No problem.”
    Sherlock and I exchanged confused shrugs and turned back to our food.
    I was working my way through a particularly sticky piece of licorice when the phone rang. My dad was closest, and the only one without his mouth full, so he reached behind him to pluck the receiver off the counter.
    “Hello?” His eyes flickered to me. “May I tell him who’s calling?”
    I froze. The only person who ever called me was Viney, and my dad wouldn’t have to ask if it was him. His eyebrows lifted, and he held the phone out across the table. “It’s an Ainsley Bishop . . . for you.”
    Ainsley? Calling me?
    “Umm. Okay.” I took the phone and tried to ignore the three curious pairs of eyes watching me. I raced up to my room, not pausing to catch my breath until the door was shut.
    “Hello?” My voice cracked, but Ainsley was already talking.
    “Hi. It’s Ainsley.”
    I