Running Lean (17 page)

“Yeah, I know,” Calvin said just to get past that part of the conversation.

“It hurts me that I can’t get you to understand about my weight. I feel like you’re judging me and suddenly you’re not really seeing me anymore. All you’re seeing is this … thing …”

Shoot the romantic impulses dead. Bang
. Calvin sighed. But wasn’t this the conversation he’d wanted to have with her?

“I understand you want to be pretty, and that you had a really hard time in the past. I don’t even care if you want to stay away from junk food so you can stay thin. That’s cool. I’m just worried that you’re going about it the wrong way. I’m scared you’ll get really sick.”

Maybe even die. But he couldn’t say that much.

She sniffed. “I don’t want to get sick either. I feel like my life is out of control. You know?”

Calvin didn’t dare move or speak. Even breathing might disrupt the course of what Stacey was saying.

“Everyone expects me to behave a certain way, do certain things,
say ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, ma’am,’ and be this perfect little girl with no mind of her own. Ever since I was little, that’s the way it was.”

His shoulders relaxed. She wasn’t about to confess her eating disorder after all.

“But you’ve never been like that. You let me be me, and you get excited when I draw pictures for you, and you tell me I’m beautiful. I
love
you for that. But, the last few weeks …”

His throat tightening again, Calvin swung his head to look away. She slipped her hand over one of his, calling his eyes back to her. “Just love me, Calvin. Like you always have. If I lose your love, I’ll lose everything else too.”

The quivering fear turned into a rotating ball in his gut, like a gyroscopic sphere, rolling and rolling but going nowhere unless he could scream and let it out.

What exactly
was
she confessing to him?

Although Tyler’s guitar wasn’t plugged into his amplifier, Calvin could discern the soft notes and see his friend’s fingers fly over the fret board. The guy was getting good. His uncle, a former traveling musician, was teaching him. Even though Tyler wasn’t into the country music his uncle played, clearly he was getting a lot out of the mentoring.

Flannery sat on the floor near Tyler’s knee, glancing at him a little too often for her attention not to be obvious. The television in Tyler’s “media room” competed with his plinking guitar, but no one was that interested in the afternoon entertainment news program anyway.

Also sitting on the floor, Calvin stretched his legs out and leaned back on his elbows. He liked this room. Tyler’s mom had decorated
it with a movie-time theme to go along with the big-screen TV. Framed posters for action/mystery films hung on the walls. The massive leather couch had its own drink holders. The windows of the room were covered with heavy drapes for optimal viewing. There was even a miniature theater popcorn popper in a corner.

The wide coffee table was covered with textbooks and class notes, but the studying hadn’t gone far.

“June tenth,” Flannery said. “It’s a Sunday. We figure the campground won’t be too busy on weekdays.”

Calvin stared at the television screen and held out his hand until the reporter’s head appeared to be between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed. “I still have to ask my parents.”

“Better ask,” Tyler said. “My parents won’t let me go if you aren’t going too.”

Flannery grumbled and pulled her knees up to plant her chin on them. “Obviously I want both of you to come, but I don’t see why you can’t sleep on the couch in the RV if Calvin can’t make it. It’s not like you and I are going to be alone. My whole family will be about six feet away from wherever we stand.”

“I know, right?” Tyler made a circular gesture with his hand holding the guitar pick. “But I know they’re going to feel better if Calvin’s there too.”

“So all this is on me?” Calvin said. “If I don’t go, the whole deal is off?”

“Would your parents let you go if I wasn’t going?” Tyler asked.

Flannery threw her hands out and let them flop to the carpet beside her. “This is so stupid! If neither of you go, then I can’t go riding. I’ll have to, like, hang out with my little brother the whole entire time. There won’t even be any reason to go all the way to Badin Lake. My dad can go fishing a thousand other places.”

Tyler set his guitar lengthwise on the sofa and leaned toward the coffee table. “Let’s see what this place looks like, anyway.” He
extracted his tablet computer from the books and papers and swiped his finger across the screen. Flannery scooted closer to him until her face nearly pressed against his arm. Calvin stayed where he was until Tyler announced that he’d found the website for Badin Lake.

“Dude, check this out. They got a map showing all the trails.” Tyler turned the computer so Calvin could see it, handing it to him as if it were a book.

Calvin’s eyes chased the red and blue sketched lines of miles of trails weaving through a large section of woods, crisscrossing each other, squiggling all around the terrain. Each trail had a name and a ranking, from easy to extremely difficult, and little symbols marking their purpose. Bicycle and horseback riding, and hiking. The red lines were for motorized vehicles only. This place put Calvin’s little cleared-out trail by his house to shame.

“Oh, yeah. I’m there, dude. This is sick.”

“So you’re gonna ask you parents, right?” Flannery slapped the coffee table in front of him. “Your dad has to give you
some
vacation time.”

“Yep.” Although as Calvin handed the tablet computer back to Tyler, it wasn’t getting his parent’s permission he was worried about. Stacey was
not
going to like this.

“Call them. Ask your dad so we can start planning this thing,” Flannery said.

Calvin scrunched his face up. “Impatient much?”

“No. But it’s like the first weekend after school lets out. The place might be booked up if we wait too long.”

Tyler simply pulled his cell phone from his pocket and passed it over to Calvin. Yeah, he knew better than to push against the force that was Flannery Moore when she got some idea stuck in her head.

Calvin took the phone and got to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he sang.

Tyler’s house was as familiar as his own, and Calvin did not need
permission to go anywhere on the property. The Victorian-era stairs creaked beneath his weight, in spite of their careful restoration. He passed through rooms where newer furniture mixed with antiques, and the paint colors and decorations were chosen with authenticity in mind. Tyler’s house always smelled like warm candles.

Calvin’s shoes waited for him next to the front door. He slipped them on without retying the laces, and went outside to the porch. A streetlight cast a gentle glow on the white railings and painted floor boards. He leaned against the carved post by the steps and negotiated the maze of options on Tyler’s smartphone.

The conversation with Mom took all of two minutes. Sure he could go camping with Tyler and Flannery’s family. Of course Dad wouldn’t mind if he waited a few days before going to help in the garage this summer. When and where were just formalities. Flannery’s parents were known and trusted, and it was all good.

The tough stuff would come with his second phone call. Calvin dialed Stacey’s number. He smiled at the sound of her voice, his heart doing a little happy skip even after so many months of dating, and in spite of his worry over what she’d say about the camping trip.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked. “You’re using Tyler’s phone.”

“Yep. Came over to study and watch television. Um, Flannery is here too. I thought about inviting you, but it’s getting a little late …” Why should he have to apologize for this stuff?

“That’s okay. I’ve been studying too. Got a quiz in French tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh-huh,
oui oui
, I see, my
cherie
.”

She giggled. “You’re silly.”

“Yeah. Listen, I called you because we’re, um, I wanted to tell you about …” Yeah, make it seem like he was asking her permission. “Did you, like, have any plans for this summer, right after school lets out?”

“Mmm, no. Not really. I want to go to the beach sometime, but I haven’t made specific plans. Why?”

“Well, we’re trying to set up this camping trip. We’re going to Badin Lake, Uwharrie National Forest. Me, Tyler, and Flannery’s family. They’ve got these awesome trails where we can take the bikes. Now that I’ve got the Yamaha running again … It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Oh. Wh—where’s U-war—that place? Badin Lake?”

“West of here, past Raleigh. I’m not sure how far.”

“Camping?”

“Yeah. For a few days. I don’t think Dave can be away from his shop for too long.”

“With Flannery.”

“With her whole family. They’ve got that RV, but I think Tyler and I will use my tent. We’re just starting to plan the trip.”

This was ridiculous. In the two second pause while Calvin waited for Stacey’s response, he thumped his fist against the porch post. Why was he asking permission? He should just be able to say, “This is where I’m going. See you when I get back.”

“Stace? Look, I really want to go. I just wanted to tell you about it, so you’ll know we’re making plans for it.”
Lame
.

“So, I’m supposed to find something else to do while you’re gone?”

“Come on, Stace. It’s just a few days. I didn’t think you’d want to come because—”

“Because I can’t ride a motorcycle, right?”

“Well, yeah. You’d probably just be bored. I mean, unless you like fishing, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say you like fishing.”

She sighed. “I don’t. Actually, I’ve never been fishing. But I’m not really comfortable thinking about you going off somewhere with another girl. I mean, I know you’re just friends, but it’s … not right, somehow.”

“Her whole family is going. Dave, Patty, and Flan’s goofy little brother. And Tyler will be there. We’re just going riding, Stacey. It’s no big deal.”

“I-I know, but …” Was she crying? Already? “The thing is, Calvin, it isn’t so much that I’m jealous of Flannery, it’s that I feel like, like, she has so much more in common with you than I do. Like, maybe she would be a better girlfriend for you than—”

Calvin thrust his index finger out, as if she were standing in front of him and could see it. “Stop right there. That’s not true. If I wanted to be with Flannery, I’d be with her. But I don’t. I’m with you. Because you’re the one I want to be with. And you need to get that straight.”

She whimpered. Definitely crying now. “I’m sorry, Calvin. It’s just … you deserve someone better—”

“No, I don’t. Shoot, Stacey, I didn’t even think I deserved
you
before we started dating. You’re so beautiful and amazing, and I don’t get why you put yourself down so much.”

“It’s because—”

“Because people teased you before. Because your uncle was a … major … scumbag. Because your dad put you down. I know all that. But here’s the thing, Stacey.
I love you!
I love you just the way you are, and it doesn’t matter to me that you can’t ride a motorcycle. I’d still love you if you weighed three hundred pounds—”

“No you wouldn’t! You wouldn’t even talk to me if I was fat. No one would.”

“You really think I’m that shallow?”

“It’s not about being shallow. People are just like that. They make judgments based on what people look like before they know anything else about them. It’s simple psychology, Calvin.”

“Whatever. Even if that’s true, it doesn’t change the fact that my feelings for you are based on who you are, the person I know inside.
You need to get past this insecurity about yourself and about me. I’m not interested in anyone but you.”

He loved her, but anger tightened his spine and made him practically yell into the phone. Weird. He had to get out of this conversation and regain his sanity. “Look, if my going camping with Flannery is going to make you crazy, I won’t go. Okay? I just won’t go. It’s cool. I can ride at home, or go to the MX track with Tyler. I don’t have to go camping.”

Her only response was a wet-sounding sniffle.

“I’ll make that sacrifice for you, because I love you.”

“Don’t … don’t decide right now.”

“I have to tell Flannery something.” Ugh. The girl would freak.

“It’s okay, Calvin. Tell her you’ll go. You’re right, I have to get control of these insecurities. I’m sorry.”

Calvin sighed and grabbed a hunk of hair. “You’re sure?”

She huffed a sad laugh. “No. Can I think about it?”

She’d hang up with him and immediately dial Zoe. Whatever.

“Sure. Go ahead. I gotta go back inside.” And figure out what lie he could tell his best friends so they wouldn’t think he was a total wimp.

F
inally able to pull off US 264 after a rather scary ride from Raleigh, Stacey rolled into a Waffle House parking lot, eased the Honda into a space, and leaned back in her seat. She placed her hand over her chest and released a long breath. “Thank God that’s over!”

“I thought we were going to get squashed by that one truck.” Zoe yanked her hands from her eye sockets as if the near-accident had just happened.

One truck? Try six or seven before they were able to get off the Interstates. Daddy would kill her if he knew what she and Zoe had done—she wouldn’t need an eighteen-wheeler to do the job. But they were at last back in Bentley, a couple of miles from Zoe’s house where they were
supposed
to be having a sleepover. The trip was so worth it, though. Zoe’s antics in the malls drowned out all her guilt about Calvin for a while.

“So, what are we doing here?” Stacey asked. “This is definitely not a low-cal eatery.”

“Don’t worry, I got it covered. Bring your sketchbook.” Zoe jumped out of the Honda—escaping the nightmare—and started toward the door of the narrow yellow building.

Stacey grabbed her big purse, with her sketchbook inside, and
hurried after her friend. A warm blast of bacon-scented air swept over her as she stepped inside the building. The contrast to the cool night sent a shudder chasing down her spine. She clenched her arms against her body. Late April; why was it still so cold? Zoe had lunged into spring with flip-flops and layered tank tops, while Stacey fought the urge to bring her Uggs back out of the closet.

The sight of someone in a police uniform standing at the counter jolted her. She swayed, caught Zoe’s shoulder to regain her balance. City cop, not county.

The cop sent a scowling glance at them as he turned away from the cash register, but he walked past and out the door. Stacey let herself breathe again.

Three men sat at the counter, empty stools between them. A couple at a booth shoveled food into their mouths. Seemingly unfazed by the departing cop, Zoe strutted to an empty booth by the windows. Showing off her makeover for the truck drivers. Head down, Stacey followed.

Those makeup consultants sure knew how to push a sale.
Let me show you how to make your eyes look big without that heavy eyeliner. Look in the mirror! See how beautiful you are? You’ll be breaking hearts for sure. Buy this mascara, this foundation, this color, and look gorgeous every day
.

And spend three times what similar stuff cost at Kerr Drugs.

Stacey caught her reflection in the window beside her. She smiled at the new Stacey staring back. Maybe if she turned up the sex appeal a little she could turn Calvin’s thoughts away from Flannery, and away from how much she did or didn’t eat. Maybe he’d even get a clue about what she was trying to achieve and give her a break.

Not likely.

“Just order water,” Zoe whispered as the waitress approached their table.

“Y’all ready or you need a couple minutes?” The smiling, pony-tailed waitress held her pen and pad ready to scribble down their order.

Zoe sat up straight. “We’re ready. Scrambled eggs, but use egg substitute. And tell the cook no butter. Two slices of turkey bacon, again no butter. Or grease. And a salad. No cheese.”

The waitress wrote. “Dressin’?”

“Just some lemon slices.”

“Toast? Grits?”

“No, thanks.” Zoe turned her face toward the window, showing she’d finished her order.

“What you want, honey?” the waitress asked.

“Oh. Uh, I’m not hungry. Just water, please.”

A quick scowl creased the woman’s forehead. She shrugged and turned away.

Zoe reached over and squeezed one of Stacey’s hands. “Size five! You’re doin’ it, girl!”

Stacey gave Zoe a grin she didn’t feel. She’d hoped for size three. And the little skirt she’d bought to go with Zoe’s lace top made her backside look bigger than a size five.

“When the food comes, we’ll share it. That way we cut the calories in half. Okay, inspiration time.” Zoe slapped her sketchbook open. “When I say go, start drawing the first design that comes to your mind.”

Stacey dug a pencil out of her purse and opened her book. “Ready.”

“Go.”

They’d seen so many amazing and beautiful things in the high-priced stores, ranging from soft and flowing contemporary designs to glittering retro glam. Why not a combination? Stacey lightly sketched geometric shapes and lines to create a humanlike form. She glanced at Zoe’s paper; Zoe worked the opposite way, drawing
clothes first. Stacey rushed her sketch, taking the blocked forms to a feminine shape in a few strokes.

Sleeveless, strapless, tight. Little dots and lines forming stars to hint at sequins.

“Wow, y’all are so talented.” The waitress set their drinks on the table.

Stacey smiled and said thanks. Zoe kept drawing.

Bodice finished, Stacey moved to the skirt. Light material flowing in the wind, long in the back, short in the front. Leggings ending in lace just below the knees. Tiny high-heeled shoes on the model’s feet.

Pausing to sip her water, Stacey considered the head. She couldn’t leave it blank. Hair was so much a part of the total look. She sketched an oval face with a tiny nose and mouth and one large eye. Sweeping, layered hair, blowing in her imaginary wind, concealed the other eye.

The waitress carefully set their food on the table.

“Done,” Zoe said.

Stacey held up a finger and finished her drawing with wristbands, adding a bit of the sparkle treatment. “Okay.”

“Switch. Let me see yours.”

They exchanged books. Zoe’s drawing was less stylized and detailed. Her model wore a sleeveless hoodie with a long, diamond-shaped cutout over the chest. The top fit snugly over the hips, then flared in bunched fabric that looked like a ballet tutu. Tight leggings with diagonal slashes, and stiletto boots. Trashy chic.

“I like this a lot,” Stacey said.

“Yours is amazing. So, you ready to make it?”

“We’re actually going to make these?”

“Yep. That’s the challenge. You gotta make it. In one week. Then we’ll go again. By the end of summer we’ll both have new clothes that no one else is wearing. We’ll rule that school!”

“One week?” Stacey took her sketchbook back. “I don’t have money for fabric. I spent too much on makeup and that skirt.” She’d be doing a whole lot of begging and babysitting this summer to keep up with Zoe’s project.

“Dang, that’s really good!”

Stacey jumped and whirled toward the person who’d spoken over her shoulder. For an instant Noah Dickerson’s brilliant smile dominated her vision. Stacey blinked, and two other guys she didn’t know materialized behind him. They glanced at her sketchpad without comment and moved on down the aisle to another booth.

Noah stayed, leaning on the back of Stacey’s seat. “So, what are y’all doing?”

“Designing new clothes,” Zoe blurted.

Noah stretched to glance at Zoe’s drawing. “That’s cool.” He gestured to Stacey’s paper. “Looks like manga.”

Stacey pursed her lips. Her drawing did look like Japanese comic art. She’d have to break that habit to do fashion design.

Noah sat beside her. His musky boy-smell sent a thrill through her. Stacey held her breath and scooted over to make room for him. “Uh, aren’t your friends going to miss you?”

Zoe kicked Stacey’s foot under the table.

“Nah. Let me see the rest of your book.” He took the sketchbook and flipped to the front.

Everything from doodles to fully rendered manga panels to serious drawings interspersed with awful to adequate poetry covered the pages. Noah studied a half-finished portrait of Calvin.

Zoe jiggled in her seat, her eyes never leaving Noah. The plate of eggs and turkey bacon, and the little bowl of salad, sat untouched on the table. Every nerve in Stacey’s body rattled like dry grass blown by the wind. She sipped her water but couldn’t think about eating.

Noah’s knee touched hers. The sensation seemed to stick there after he’d moved.

“You’re really good,” he said. “I mean it.”

“Really?”

He handed the sketchbook back. “It’s awesome. I didn’t know you write poetry too.”

“Thanks.” She hugged the book to her chest.

“So, what are y’all doing tonight? Other than drawing pictures at Waffle House. Wanna hang with me and my friends?”

Stacey glanced at the other boys, who’d claimed the booth near the elderly couple and had them looking nervous. Scruffy gamer/skater types. Not the kind of boys Stacey would want to “hang” with even if she wasn’t dating Calvin.

Across the table from her, Zoe wiggled in her seat like she had to pee.

Something like frigid air grabbed hold of Stacey’s intestines. “Oh, um … Noah? I already have a boyfriend. That—that was his picture you were looking at.”

Zoe slapped the table with both hands. “Sta-cey!”

Eyes wide, Stacey leaned toward her friend. “Zo-ee!”

Noah was grinning when she looked back at him. “My bad luck. You know, if I had a girl drawing me pictures like that, no way she’d be sitting at Waffle House with another girl on a Saturday night.”

“We—I—uh, we were out last night.”

“Last night, huh?” He plucked her pencil from the table, took her sketchbook out of her hands, and scribbled something on the last page. “There’s my number in case … you know.” He flipped his black hair to the side and slid out of the booth. Her pencil rolled slowly off his fingertips, as if reluctant to part from him.

“See ya,” he crooned. He glided past Zoe down the aisle to join his friends. Tight pants, like Calvin would never—could never—wear.

Zoe slowly turned in her seat to face Stacey. Her gawk turned to a glare, clearly saying without words,
Are you out of your freaking mind?

Stacey sighed. “Zoe, I keep telling you. I love Calvin. I don’t want anyone else.”

“Calvin,” Zoe said through clenched teeth. Then she slumped back against the booth. “Even though he wants to go camping with that other girl—Okay, whatever. It’s your life.”

The waitress went to the booth where Noah and his friends sat. Noah flashed that charming smile when he ordered. As the waitress turned away, her cheeks pinked and she nibbled on her lower lip. Amazing. Noah could make a forty-something-year-old woman blush.

Stacey stared down at her sketchpad. There on the clean page, Noah Dickerson’s phone number. The first three digits were the same as Zoe’s, suggesting he lived near her. Noah’s handwriting reminded her of script, the straight lines on the five, nine, and sevens elongated.

Was it possible Noah Dickerson really wanted to go out with her?

Stacey dragged her gaze from the book and looked at Zoe. A hiccup-like gasp shook her. She smacked a hand across her grin.

Zoe turned her eyes toward the ceiling. “Better not let
Cal-vin
find that number.”

Calvin wouldn’t question her about a phone number with no name beside it. Maybe. But having it there on the page—she would think of Noah each time she opened the book to draw.

Stacey creased the page to make careful rips around the number, then slipped the torn paper into the pocket of her hoodie. She sipped her water, but couldn’t eat. Her flip-flopping stomach wouldn’t accept it.

Noah Dickerson. Another artist. Never happen, but tempting to think about. Noah was more like her than Zoe, even. And certainly he had more in common with her than Calvin.

Just like Flannery had more in common with Calvin …

Okay, kill those thoughts right now
.