December 31, 2012
One way Brooklyn did not want to spend the last day of 2012 was in an Orthodontist's office. She hated the Orthodontist. All they did was steal thirty plus minutes from her every month- that amounted to over six hours a year- putting metal on her teeth that she always cut herself on, tightening wires that were already too tight, pulling her jaws together with rubber bands, putting her in great pain. This was not how she wanted to spend New Year's, but she was, in fact, at the orthodontist that day.
"Good to see you again, Brooklyn," one of the workers greeted her sweetly. Brooklyn only shrugged and climbed onto the chair. She would give them as little conversation as possible.
"This shouldn't take too long," the worker promised as she adjusted the light overhead.
That's what you say every time.
Brooklyn bit back the retort. For all she knew, if she got short, the orthodontists could always put her in worse pain- make her mouth bleed by roughly brushing her teeth. Or, in the extreme, request to remove her currently non-existent wisdom teeth. Her twelve-year-old molars weren't quite finished growing in. Maybe they'd remove those instead.
Or Brooklyn could just stay quiet. It was hard to talk while her teeth were being inspected, anyway.
"Take out your rubber bands," the orthodontist instructed. Brooklyn gladly obeyed.
They always acted nice, but they took everything else out on her teeth. Brooklyn and her siblings like to joke that in their training, orthodontists have to kick a puppy every day to learn how to be mean.
"I'll just replace your wires now. Oh, you have a spring on the bottom. Hmm..."
One of Brooklyn's bottom teeth had grown further behind all the others. At her last appointment, the orthodontists had removed the brace on it. Now they seemed to be regretting that decision.
The worker removed her top wire and replaced it with a much tighter one. Then she focused on the crooked tooth. With her fingers- just her fingers!- she pushed it forward to line up with the others. Brooklyn squirmed in pain. They replaced her rubber bands.
"All right, we're done."
Brooklyn sprang out of the chair and hurried back to the waiting room. Pain exploded from her jaw. She paced by the door while her mother set the next appointment.
Forget it! Brooklyn mentally screamed. I don't care if my teeth aren't straight, just take these braces off already!
As soon as she was in the car, Brooklyn unhooked her rubber bands. They weren't actually fixing her overbite. They were just there to make everything hurt ten thousand times worse.
