All the Days of Her Life (4 page)

He stood beside her. “In other words, don’t call you again.”

“Don’t make it sound as if I don’t care about you. I told you already, I’m busy with school. It’s nothing personal. Besides, once you get into classes, you’re not going to want to hang with me. I’m a high school kid. You’ll find some college girl.”

“Will you keep in touch?”

“I’ll call.”

“I don’t suppose we could seal it with a kiss, could we?”

In spite of herself, she felt the corners of her mouth twitch with a smile. There was no way she’d allow him to kiss her again. It might make her forget the reasons she didn’t want him in her life. She held out her hand. “I’ll let you kiss my ring.”

“Always cool, calm, and collected, aren’t you, Lacey?”

“It’s part of my charm.” She didn’t dare let him know that the coolness was something she wore like a shield to keep out the things of life she couldn’t deal with. And at the moment, she couldn’t deal with Jeff McKensie, his crystal-clear green eyes and the way his grin made her heart beat like a runaway train.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” At the doorway, he paused.

“I always do.”

“And call me if you need me.”

She promised she would, although she silently told herself,
It’ll never happen
. She didn’t plan on needing anyone.

“Liar!” Lacey spat the word at her bathroom scale. The needle didn’t mind her outburst. It stuck stubbornly to its claim.
Three pounds!
How could she have gained three pounds in less than a week?

She stepped off the scale and kicked it. The first rehearsal for the school play was today. Ms. Kasch, the drama teacher, had asked that everyone involved with the play attend the initial meeting, so that meant Todd would be there. And so would Monet, who’d signed up to paint sets at the last minute. And Monet was model-thin, while Lacey felt like a fat toad.

“I’m leaving for work,” her mother called.

“See you tonight,” Lacey returned.

Alone, she tugged on a pair of jeans and studied herself in the mirror. Her size-eleven jeans felt tight, and she hated the way her tummy strained the denim material. If she didn’t do something drastic, she’d have to buy size thirteens. She shuddered over the thought.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she
must
eat breakfast and get her insulin shot. In a foul mood, she went to the kitchen and jerked open the refrigerator door. She picked up an apple, made a face at it, and tossed it back into the refrigerator bin. She thought back to the time when she’d been
diagnosed. As her islet cells had died off, and with them, her body’s ability to produce insulin, she’d gotten thinner and thinner. Sick too, but right now all she thought about was the wonderful thinness.

Slowly, an idea formed in her head. If insufficient insulin had caused her to lose weight before, then why couldn’t it work again? Not like the other day, when she’d forgotten her shot accidentally. Without any insulin, she’d had to go to the bathroom continuously, plus she’d felt pretty rotten. Omitting her insulin altogether might not be such a good idea. But what if she simply cut back on her dose? Give herself less than her doctor had prescribed? As long as she stayed out of ketoacidosis, she could drop weight effortlessly. Plus, the lower dose would help her avoid dreaded insulin reactions.

“Why didn’t I think of this before?” She shut the refrigerator door and got out her insulin supplies. Carefully, she drew her normal amount of insulin into the syringe.
How much to cut back?
she wondered. Ten units? Fifteen? She settled on fifteen from her morning dose and ten from her evening dose. “If that’s not enough, I’ll increase the decrease.”

She smiled over her clever wording. Yes, this was a perfect solution to her problem. She promised herself she’d eat less too, and pig out on vegetables and low-fat stuff. Confident she could strike a balance between lowering her insulin dose and shedding unwanted pounds, Lacey dabbed an antiseptic-soaked cotton ball on her abdomen, pinched up a layer of skin, and stuck the syringe into herself.

Feeling satisfied with her compromise, she properly disposed of the empty syringe, mixed up an instant breakfast milk shake in the blender, returned to her bedroom, and quickly finished dressing for school.

“W
OW, YOU SURE
do go to the bathroom a lot.”

Terri’s comment caused Lacey’s cheeks to burn with embarrassment, yet she laughed and casually said, “I’ve always been this way. I think it’s a genetic flaw.”

“No matter,” Terri said. “It’s just that while you were gone, Ms. Kasch told us to hurry because we have to have this flat totally painted before we can leave.”

Lacey groaned. It was already after six, and the particular flat the crew was working on was elaborate with detail. At the rate they were going, she’d be lucky to be home by eleven. “What about supper?” she asked.

“Maria and Gordon are making a hamburger run. Give them your order and some money.”

Lacey hated the idea of loading up on fast food for another meal, but what else could she do? She had to eat.

“You’ve lost weight, haven’t you?” Terri asked.

“A little. And it isn’t easy to diet when my menu consists mainly of fat grams either.”

“Tell me about it. This play is ruining my figure. I wish I had your willpower, Lacey. I just smell a chocolate milk shake and I gain. How do you do it?”

“I have my methods.” In truth, she’d been juggling her insulin dosage for three weeks and she’d lost twelve pounds. Of course, going to the bathroom frequently and feeling sluggish and irritable were side effects she still was learning to tolerate.

“Methods for what?” The question came from Todd, who strolled toward them.

Lacey felt her pulse quicken. “Dieting. I thought you were rehearsing.”

“Taking a break.” He stopped in front of Lacey and allowed his gaze to roam her body. “Tell me about your method. It must be a good one, ’cause I think you have one fine body.”

Terri snorted. “Get real, Todd. Cars have fine bodies. Girls are people. We often have fine minds.”

“Excuse me for appreciating Lacey.” Todd’s tone wasn’t kind.

Flattered by his attention but uncomfortable with the tension between Todd and Terri, Lacey interjected, “And I appreciate your appreciation … so how’s the rehearsal coming along? Memorized your lines yet?”

“Not entirely. Maybe I could use some coaching.” He eyed her again in a suggestive way.

Before she could respond, Monet came up and hooked her arm through Todd’s. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Todd turned toward the tall, willowy blonde, and Lacey felt as if she’d been shoved aside. “You found me,” Todd said.

“And you’re flirting with other girls. Honestly, Todd, what ever am I going to do with you?”

Lacey saw Terri roll her eyes and make a gagging noise.

“Since it’s a dinner break,” Todd said to Monet, “why don’t I take you out for pizza?”

“Love to.” Monet continued to hang on his arm.

Once they were out of earshot, Terri said, “That girl’s so icky sweet, it’s a wonder he doesn’t catch diabetes from her.”

“You can’t catch it.” The words were out of Lacey’s mouth before she could stop them.

“Says who?”

Lacey would have given anything to take back her statement. How could she have been so stupid to blurt it out? “I—um—just read an article about it. Diabetes isn’t contagious. It’s sort of a hereditary thing.”

“You mean like your bathroom problem?”

Fortunately, Terri grinned, so Lacey sidestepped the question by saying, “My real problem around here is Monet.”

“She does have
moxie
, doesn’t she? She comes right up and interrupts Todd’s conversation with
you and gets an invite to dinner while we have to settle for cardboard hamburgers. And pizza yet! He could afford to treat the whole cast to lobster, you know.”

“What baffles me is how she never gets fat.”

“She doesn’t seem to pay calories much mind,” Terri said in agreement. “I’ve seen this girl chow down. Once, she ate a whole quart of chocolate ice cream at one sitting. I wonder how she stays thin enough to land those modeling jobs.”

Lacey felt a twinge of envy. Such a binge on so much sugar and fat would probably land her in the hospital—especially now that she was manipulating her insulin dose in order to run higher blood sugars to help eliminate weight. “A whole quart? You’re kidding.”

“I’m not kidding. And because it was chocolate, I almost wrestled the spoon out of her hand.”

Lacey laughed. “I’ll bet you’d eat that flat if I poured chocolate sauce on it.”

“Please, I have my standards. I’d eat that flat only if it were
made
of chocolate.”

Lacey slapped her palm against her forehead. “What was I thinking?”

Gordon pushed open the backstage door and called, “Chow’s here.”

“Oh, goody,” Lacey sighed. “Another five thousand calories for only five bucks. What fun.”

In minutes, the cast and stage crew gathered, sorted out their orders, and shuffled off into smaller groups to eat. Lacey and Terri settled in a far corner of the dusty backstage area, where they sat
cross-legged on the bare floor. Lacey nibbled on her burger, which had already grown cold.

“Want some fries?” Terri asked.

Lacey peered into the unappetizing mound of french fries. “No thanks. I don’t even want this.” She tossed down the burger. “I should have gotten a salad.”

“Rabbit food?” Terri made a face.

“Have you ever seen a plump bunny?”

“Get off the fat routine already. You look fine.”

With a start, Lacey remembered her shot. That morning, she’d tucked her insulin and a syringe into her purse.
Good thing too
, she told herself. She’d didn’t want to have to take a shot when she arrived home after eleven o’clock. “I have to hit the bathroom again,” she said to Terri.

“Again?”

Lacey shrugged. “Nature calls.”

“I’d say she was shouting at you, girl.”

“Save my place,” Lacey called over her shoulder as she dashed away. She found her purse where she’d stashed it in the prop room and hurried off to a bathroom in the farthest, darkest recesses of the theater.

Once inside a stall, she rummaged in her purse for her diabetic supplies. Her fingers fumbled with the syringe as she squinted in order to see the tiny demarcations along the barrel of the needle that aided in measuring out her correct dosage of insulin. She automatically backed off the dose by ten units and slid the sharp needle into her flesh.

She was putting things away in her purse when
she heard the bathroom door open. Lacey froze. She gripped the syringe tightly in her hand and pressed herself against the cold metal side of the stall. She heard someone go in the stall next to her. Lacey held her breath and felt sweat dripping down her back.

All at once it occurred to her that she had every right to be there in the bathroom, but she also realized that by making an appearance now after she’d been so quiet might seem weird to the other person.
Stay put
, she told herself.
Don’t make any noise, and sneak out
.

Lacey heard the latch close on the adjacent stall and waited for the girl to make some noise so that she could escape undetected. What she heard next was the sounds of someone throwing up. She eased open the lock on her stall and crept out.

Now what am I supposed to do?
Lacey wondered. From the sound of things, the girl was really sick. Maybe she should go and tell someone. Trembling, unable to decide whether to flee or help, Lacey stood in front of the locked stall door trying to make up her mind. Before she knew it, the awful sounds of retching stopped and the next thing she heard was the sound of the toilet being flushed. In a panic, Lacey stepped backward, but not before the stall door opened and Monet stepped out.

The two girls locked gazes, each shocked at seeing the other. Monet recovered first. “Well, what are you staring at? And why did you follow me in here?”

Monet’s accusation angered Lacey. “Excuse me, but it’s a public facility, isn’t it? Who died and left you in charge of planet earth?”

Monet brushed past her. At the sink, she bent her head and rinsed her mouth under the faucet. Monet was shaking visibly. Her skin was the color of paste and covered with perspiration.

Watching her made Lacey remorseful over her cutting words and she asked, “Are you sick? Do you need some help?”

Monet straightened and caught Lacey’s gaze in the mirror. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“But I heard you being sick. You look ill.”

Monet spun. “Oh, Lacey, grow up! I was purging.”

“Purging?” The truth dawned on her slowly. “You mean you were forcing yourself to vomit? Why?”

Monet crossed her arms and leaned against the sink. “Because I ate pizza and drank beer. I can’t eat that stuff day after day and stay thin. Who can?”

“Yeah. Who can?”
So that was Monet’s secret!
She’d have never known if she hadn’t caught her. Lacey found the truth unsettling.

“Everybody does it,” Monet said. “It’s the best way I know of to eat exactly what you want but never have it settle around the waist.” She managed a tight smile that made her eyes look like bright, hard marbles. “But you’re not going out there and blab it all over the set now, are you?”