Chapter 2:

So I guess the story really starts about three weeks after my 18th birthday. I was walking home from cheer (no big deal, even in this frigid weather, considering the fact I’m only a ten-minute walk from school) when one of my friends' moms drove past.

She must’ve recognized me cause she slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road.

“Isabella right?”

“Yes! Hi! You’re Stacy’s mom right?”

“Yeah, I was just going to pick her up. But she can wait a little bit, come on. I’ll drive you home first.”

Stacy had left school early that day to go to the dentist for her six month check-up. It’s a bit of a walk from her house to the office so I guess her mom had decided to drive instead of making her walk in the snow.

“No, really it’s fine. I can walk, go on,” I tried protesting.

Mrs. Ellison wasn’t having it. After a few more rounds of arguing, I hopped in the back of the car. The heat was on full blast, jets of air moving around the stray strands of blond hair that had managed to escape from under my hat. The heat felt nice, especially compared to outside, but I was still a little sweaty from cheer so I needed to get home and shower fast.

Stacy’s mom dropped me in front of my house, and after some quick goodbyes, I ran inside.

On my way up the stairs, I ran into Amelia. She’s my father's second wife. They’ve only been married for a few years and she’s a bit younger than him, only 30 years old, but they seem to be happy. We get along pretty well, I guess. She’s not my mother, and I think she knows better than to try to be. We have a good enough relationship without her trying to act as my mom.

We’re not super close anyways. She spends a lot of time at work. She’s an orthodontic assistant at one of the places in town, and she really seems to have a passion for it. She’s really enthusiastic whenever the subject comes up, like when I mention one of my friends had gotten their braces off. Not that she’d know much about my friends. No way, they’d be caught dead in the office where she works. The doctor there is semi-infamous for being really strict with patients.

Still, it’s not like I’ll just ignore her whenever I walk past her.

“Oh, hey Amelia! What’s up?”

She glances up from her phone.

“Nothing much. How was school?”

“Ugh, remember that history test I was telling you about? Well, I think I bombed it.”

“Really? That bad?”

I sigh, “Yeah, but I think he’ll let me make it up. Anyways, gotta go shower. I’ll be down for dinner soon!”

I run past her, head right past my room, and go straight into my bathroom. It’s got pink glossy tiles on one side of the wall, and some mirrored medicine cabinets on the other.

Making sure the shower isn’t too cold before I enter it, I hop in, clean myself off, and hop back out again.

I run into my room and start looking for some clothes to change into.

Not pajamas, even if I don’t feel like going out tonight. Still a little early for that. Maybe some sweatpants? That’s it.

I pull on some blue sweatpants, and a baggy pink sweatshirt with the words “Class of ‘23” written on the back. Instead of having the sweatshirts given out at the end of the year, the students had decided we wanted them at the beginning of the year (that way we could wear them on all our class trips and have pictures with them in the yearbook).

I admire myself in the mirror real quick. Clear skin, dirty blonde hair tied back in a bun, and a clear pair of glasses covering my green eyes.

I snap a quick photo, caption it “#sweaterweatherishere”, and post it to my story before heading down.

Amelia is waiting for me in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. She asks me what time it is.

“6:03,” I told her.
 
She sets an alarm, then frowns.

“You’re home early.”

I explain about how Mrs. Ellison gave me a quick lift before she picked Stacy up from the dentist.

Amelia opens her mouth to say something but the timer interrupts her. She busies herself with the food, and calls my dad down for dinner. We all eat our share, then help clear the plates and dishes. Then we each go our separate ways. I head to my room to focus on some schoolwork, maybe read a book, and call a few of my friends (“So Stace, how was?” “Uh, good I guess. No cavities or anything if that’s what you mean”). My dad goes up to his office to continue working, and Amelia mumbles something about checking appointments.

Later that night I’m just about to shut the lights when there’s a knock on the door and Amelia pokes her head in.

“So your story about Stacy got me thinking. It’s been a while since you’ve had a check up, especially since Dr. Booker retired. I’ve made an appointment with that new dentist in my office for tomorrow at three. He’s really good and I think you’ll like him. Plus I'll just be able to take you back with me on the way home from work. No need for your father to have to go out and get you.”

I’m a little upset that she made an appointment without asking me first, especially on a Friday afternoon, but I don’t pay it much mind. We talk a little bit and then I head to sleep.

Chapter 3:

I get out of school early the next day, and while I’d normally be able to go out with my friends, my time is now otherwise occupied by the big nice hour in which I have to sit in a chair and be told my teeth are fine.

At around 2:30 my father comes down and tells me to hop in the car. He’s driving me to the appointment. I try to tell him I don’t have to be there until 3, my dad is someone who likes to be early to everything.

It’s not that far of a drive, and we chat about school and stuff. My dad keeps glancing at me everytime we get to a red light.

“Nervous?”

“Well I wouldn’t be if you stopped looking at me like that!!!”

He chuckles, “Yeah well, I’m just thinking about that time you wouldn’t get out of the car because of how scared you were.”

“Dad, I was nine. And I was scared because they told me I had four cavities that need to be fixed that day. This is just a checkup. I’ll be fine.”

We pull up in front of the building. It’s very new, very modern. Big glass doors are right in front of the building. The words “Clements Orthodontics” are written on the left side of the building, and “Smile Center, by Dr. Shawn Carter” is written on the right.

I hop out of the car and walk into the building, a slight tingle building up in my stomach. My dad had gotten me pretty nervous even though I knew there was nothing to be afraid of.

Worst that could happen is I get a few cavities.

I think Ithabella will go home.. but with a mouthful of metal 

Great start of this story... can't wait to read what happens next with Ithabella

Chapter 5:

“Okay here’s the deal. Your teeth seem to be in great shape. Healthy, white, and no cavities that I can see. But.”

Oh, man there it is. This is where it’s all gonna go wrong, I can feel it.

“I was looking at your x-rays and there are some rather big issues that need to be fixed in regard to your teeth's alignment. I know your mother Amel-”

“Step-mother.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Amelia is my step-mom.”

“Ah, I see my mistake. Anyways, Amelia has written here that you’ve been somewhat reluctant to fix your teeth in the past. And I have here some records from your old orthodontist that say you’ve had some appliances. Obviously, you were not very compliant.”

I squirm guiltily in the chair, trying to disappear into the leather.

“I- Uh, I guess so? I mean it wasn’t really that big of a priority for me at the time.”

“Nor, does it seem to be one now. Else, you’d have already dealt with your teeth. So. Here’s what I’m proposing. Why don’t you come with me to Dr. Clements office? We already have some time set aside for you. Amelia wanted us to take care of you. And we can all have a small chat together. About your teeth, and about your general health.”

I’m sweating. This was not how I wanted today to go. They must’ve planned to have me go to the orthodontist from the start. That’s why Dad dropped me off so early.

There’s only one thing I can say. Not like I ever had much of a choice once the appointment was already made.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Thank you! I‘ve read your stories and I’ve really liked them.

I'm enjoying this so far - thanks for sharing!

Chapter 7:

Looking back on it, it was all my own fault I think. I allowed myself to get bullied into braces. I let them convince me that the braces were necessary.

The next hour passed in a blur. I was being bullied and bludgeoned into understanding that I needed braces. And after a bit I gave in. They were right, after all. I really did need the braces.

And naturally I had to be treated here. My issues were too severe, we’d be getting a discount (thanks Amelia), and Dr. Clements said something about compliance not really being an issue.

And so, despite my concerns here I was. Ready to get some braces.

Once I admitted to them, and myself, that I was ready to have braces things moved quite quickly. Amelia led me out of the room over to a chair situated in the main room. She mixed up some of the pink gunk I remember my last orthodontist used to make molds. She tested out several different tray sizes in my mouth before deciding on one.

She filled the tray with the pink gloop, smoothing the excesses off the top, before telling me to open.

When I do, Amelia maneuvers the oversized tray into my mouth, slipping it past my lips before pressing it up against my teeth.

I can feel the gunk slinking past my teeth, oozing out from the cracks in the tray, and coming to a rest on my lips. I want to gag. I can hardly breathe, and I already know that I’m going to have to do this a second time for the bottom.

“Just two more minutes, honey,” Amelia says.
I glare at her. She does NOT get to call me honey after today's stunt. I’m still not happy with her.

When the two minutes are up, Amelia wrenches the tray off my teeth, and repeats the same process for my lower jaw.

She leaves after that, presumably to take care of the molds, and another assistant takes her place.

He leans back my chair, and moves a tray to rest over my chest.

“Okay Isabella, now I’m just going to be putting in some spacers. These are just so that we can make sure we have enough space for some of the appliances you’ll be having during your treatment.”

Yeah, they mentioned something about appliances, but I’ll be honest I wasn’t really paying much attention to that. I figure I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

The assistant is placing the spacers now. I can feel him stretching them, wedging them between my teeth. There’s a lot, I realize. I don’t know exactly how much, but a lot.

“All right, and we’re all done! Let me just get the doctor real quick, and then you’re free to go.”

Before he leaves, I make sure to ask him for a mirror. I want to see just what has been done to me so far.