Running Lean (35 page)

“No. It was real. And I feel like God told me this isn’t the plan he has for me. I mean, why would God want a person to starve themself?”

Calvin would be proud of her little speech. Stacey held on to it, wanted it to be real, truthful. But it tasted like hypocrisy. The anorexic Stacey inside her said she was a slave now, headed toward blimpdom where no one would love her. She pushed words out that she desperately needed, even if Zoe rejected them. “To God, I
am
beautiful. Already. No matter what.”

Half of Zoe’s mouth turned upward and she snorted. She glanced toward the door.

“Anyway, I messed up big time. I almost died!” She pulled her arms out from under the blanket and plopped her hands into her lap. Her throat closed around the words she needed to say. “I’m just … so grateful … I have another chance.”

Zoe chewed her lower lip. A mascara-tinged tear rolled part way down her cheek. She wiped it away. “Um, okay. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. I was, like, scared or something. Ashamed.”

Stacey slid her left hand across the bed. She lifted it and held it out until Zoe finally curled her fingers around it.

Zoe sniffed. “So, does this mean you’re not angry at me?”

“I forgive you.”

A smile crept across Zoe’s face and stayed there while a more comfortable silence settled between them. Zoe’s thumb lightly touched the massive bruise on the back of Stacey’s hand. From the IVs. Zoe sniffed again. “I’ll visit you while you’re in this rehab place.”

“It’s in Charlotte.”

“Ooh. Well, maybe Noah will bring me.”

“So, what? You’re dating Noah now?”

“No. We’re just friends. He’s nice, once he knows it’s just friends.”

Stacey wanted to laugh, but Zoe’s expression turned serious.

“I think, maybe, you running out of the apartment and ending up in the hospital changed him. I know it changed me.”

Stacey squeezed her hand.

Zoe lifted her head higher. “I still want to get out of Stiles County and be a fashion designer. No way I’m changing that.”

“Good.”

A wicked little smirk came to Zoe’s lips. “Are you going to marry Calvin Greenlee now and have lots of babies?”

Stacey laughed. “I’d like to finish high school and college first, thank you very much.”

“I’m joking.”

Stacey gave her friend a little smirk as well. “You better be.”

C
alvin’s shoulders and arms burned as he tightened the final bolt in the oil pan of Mrs. Bryant’s Lincoln. He slipped the socket off the bolt and double-checked the others in the same crisscross pattern he’d used to tighten them.

He lowered his arms and mopped his face with his sleeve. His old T-shirt smelled like the garage—grease, gasoline, and sweat. The sharp scent of Gojo hand cleaner clung to his skin.

Portable fans by the open bay doors of the garage pushed around the summer heat. Country music blared from an old radio on one of the parts shelves.

Calvin replaced the socket and ratchet in his toolbox and moved a support beam next to the lift. With one foot hitched up against the beam, he lowered the powder-blue car to the floor. He opened the hood and bent over the side of the car to unscrew the oil-fill cap.

His new cell phone vibrated in his pocket, its alarm set to buzz him at the top of each hour so he could follow Stacey’s specific instructions. Calvin wiped his hands on the rag he kept in his back pocket, glanced around the shop to make sure no one was spying on him, and snuck over to the shelf where he’d hidden a small manila envelope. Inside were a pile of handmade cards, each marked with a time in elaborate doodles. He opened the one marked 1:00 pm.

Things I love most about Calvin Greenlee. #11: Your hair. It’s soft and curly enough that it could never, ever be cut into a mullet. Happy birthday, my sweet country love!

Calvin laughed and slipped the card to the bottom of the stack. Another laugh threatened as he fetched several quarts of oil for the Lincoln. He’d been reading Stacey’s little notes since seven o’clock that morning, counting down from seventeen all the things she loved about him. Each one joined something romantic with something silly to make him smile. And each reminded him what he really loved about her. Her sweetness, creativity, and quirky sense of humor—it was all coming back.

Maybe he could find a mullet wig in a costume shop for his upcoming trip to Charlotte.

After filling the Lincoln with oil, he closed the hood and checked for greasy fingerprints.

Dad sauntered over, his hands buried in the pockets of his overalls. “Got ‘er done?”

“Yep. That gasket was trashed.”

“Good job. Go wash up.”

“Huh?”

“Joe’s got the shop covered. It’s your birthday. Let’s get outta here.”

“Sweet.”

More Gojo at the stained bathroom sink was the best he could do for washing up. He’d shower at home. Hopefully his mother would allow him enough time before she sprang whatever it was she’d cooked up for his birthday.

He and Dad arrived home to a quiet, empty house.

Dad headed for the kitchen. “Guess it’s sandwiches for lunch.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Calvin tucked in his lower lip and peered out the back door. Nothing in the yard. No crepe-paper streamers or tables with vinyl tablecloths, no smoke coming from the barbecue.
Just the weedy grass baking in the summer sun. Mom just might have spared him the huge family party this year.

He didn’t trust it. “I’m going upstairs to grab a shower.”

As hot water washed away the grime, Calvin thought of mullets and sang the two lines he knew of “Achy Breaky Heart.” Tyler would break something over his head if he’d heard it.

Back in his room, his movements slowed and the country song faded away. Maybe not having a birthday party would be a good thing. A party would remind him of who
wasn’t
there. Not just Stacey. This was his first birthday since Michael died.

His phone vibrated on his bed as he pulled on fresh jeans. He grabbed the envelope and found the official two o’clock card.

Things I love most about Calvin Greenlee. #10: The sound of your steady heartbeat when I lay my head against your chest. Wish I could be there with you now. I miss you. Happy Birthday, my love
.

Sweet, but without the humor of the others. He wondered when she had found the time to do these cards. The center kept her busy with counseling sessions and classes. Maybe she had been a little stressed or homesick when she wrote this one.

The cards were something tangible he could keep. But the problem with them was that he couldn’t respond. He couldn’t send a text or speak to her. While Stacey was in rehab, she wasn’t allowed to have a phone or access to a computer. They controlled everything in her environment. He wouldn’t be able to see her again until they said it was okay. She didn’t even know yet that he’d been able to get himself a cell phone.

“Miss you too, Stace,” he whispered.

A female voice outside distracted him. Calvin stepped into the little alcove of one of his dormer windows. A white sedan sat at the side of the road, and two friends from school crossed the front lawn.

“I knew it!” Calvin yanked on the first clean shirt he found.

Downstairs, Mom and Aunt Sally rushed about, setting food out on the dining room table. Dad herded little kids outside.

Mom held her hands up to block Calvin. “Oh no! Not another step farther. You spoiled the surprise by coming home early. I want to keep some things a secret.”

Dad turned at the back door. “You said be home at two. It’s two o’clock, and we’re here. What did I do wrong?”

“I meant you should leave the
garage
at two! Never mind.” She waved her hands at Calvin. “Just get out. Out. Your friends are arriving.”

Calvin went out the front door and joined everyone gathering on the lawn. Cousins Bailey, Matt, and Trevor arrived a few moments later.

Kendra Newell from his physics class slipped her hand under Calvin’s arm. “How’s Stacey doing?”

A jolt ran through him. Had rumor gotten out that Stacey was in a rehab center? Her parents had asked him not to talk about it, but if Zoe had told anyone from school—

Calvin forced a smile. “Much better, thanks.” What would he say about Stacey’s absence from his party? Visiting relatives, or what? Out of town? Would it be enough?

More friends and relatives arrived, and they made their way to Mom’s surprise, a catered meal from Sloppy Smith’s Barbecue, arranged next to several desserts from his aunts. As everyone crowded the food table, Calvin scanned the faces and found two strangely absent: Tyler and Flannery. Very suspicious.

He gorged himself on barbecue dripping with Sloppy Smith’s signature sweet sauce and Aunt Sally’s pecan pie, but slipped back up to his bedroom just past three o’clock.

Things I love most about Calvin Greenlee. #9: Your motorcycle. Okay, it scares me. But I love the idea that you can fly. Happy Birthday, Superman
.

Didn’t she remember the motorcycle was dead? They hadn’t talk about the Yamaha much when she was in the hospital, but she called it his “miracle steed” that had carried him to her rescue. Maybe she thought he could fix the bike again. And maybe he could, if he could find a replacement engine. Or every single part to rebuild the old one.

He sighed. The note was still nice, and he really missed the flying part.

After the meal, Mom brought out gifts and made Calvin open them in front of everyone. Clothes from Mom, of course. Plenty of embarrassment there. Peyton and Ryan gave him a gift card to load apps onto his phone. Tyler would know exactly how it worked.

Where was he? No way would his best friend miss his party. Something was up.

Oh, yeah! He could text him. Calvin pulled out his phone. His fingers fumbled over the little keys until he’d typed his question—
where r u?
Not long after pushing send, his phone chirped the four o’ clock alarm. Calvin eased over to the gazebo to read the next note.

Things I love most about Calvin Greenlee. #8: Your deep voice. It sounds like a love song, even though I know you can’t sing well. But at church you raise your voice anyway, and I think that makes God smile. Happy Birthday, Mr. So-Not-American-Idol
.

Leaning against a post, Calvin shook his head. “I’m definitely getting a mullet wig and learning
all
the words to ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ to get her back for this.”

Munching even more cake and spilling crumbs, his cousin Matt squinted up at him from the gazebo steps. “‘Achy Breaky Heart’? What’s that?”

“Old country song by a guy with a mullet.”

“What’s a mullet?”

Calvin smirked. “You need to get out more.”

Sunlight glinted off a white SUV rolling up to the workshop,
pulling a landscaping trailer holding something covered in a big blue tarp. Calvin stepped away from the gazebo post. Patty Moore’s SUV? Bringing the ridiculously tardy Flannery, no doubt. But why did she park by the workshop instead of out front with everyone else? Pulling a trailer loaded with … what?

Calvin launched himself across the yard toward the truck. The front passenger door opened, and Tyler stepped out.

Calvin laughed. “Dude! Where you been? You missed the piñata and party hats.”

Sunglasses hid Tyler’s eyes, but his cheeks creased in a broad grin. “Ah, I knew this would be a good day.”

They slapped hands and held on. Flannery bounded out of the SUV and leapt onto Calvin’s back, almost knocking him over. When Calvin recovered his footing, he noticed that everyone was forming a circle around the vehicle.

Calvin grabbed the back of Flannery’s neck and shook her a little. “Okay, what’s under the tarp?”

Her dad stood behind the trailer. “Happy birthday, Cal!” The metallic gate clanked down against the gravel driveway.

Calvin’s heartbeat accelerated. Flannery and Tyler followed him to the trailer. As Dave climbed up beside the blue-covered, suspiciously motorcycle-shaped cargo, Tyler tapped a white envelope against Calvin’s arm. “Got this for you.”

Calvin gave Tyler a mock scowl. A card? Now? While Dave worked at removing the tarp, Calvin ripped open the flap. Several sheets of paper inside. Forms.

“What’s this?”

“Maysville, next month. Cabin for the weekend, track, lessons, all paid for. And this”—Tyler touched the pages underneath—”is an application for District 29 MX membership. You’ll need to fill that out and send it in for next season’s racing.”

“Racing? But, my Yamaha—” The words stalled in his throat
when his eyes jerked toward the tarp. A corner slipped away, and a knobby tire poked out.

“Yamaha-shamaha,” Tyler said. “That bike couldn’t even compete in vintage races anymore. From now on, you’re riding a real machine.”

“Huh? Ty? Dude.
What
did
you do
?”

Tyler tapped the papers again. “Paid for the weekend trip. Happy birthday, bro.”

Calvin gestured with both arms toward the bike. “What’s that? You’re giving me a bike?”

“Whoa, no. I don’t have that kind of cash.”

“We paid for the bike,” Dad said, suddenly behind him.

Calvin whirled. Both his parents stood there, grinning.

“But—”

Despite the fact that he’d rescued Stacey, his stunt with the Yamaha on the Interstate had gotten him into major trouble. If the bike hadn’t died that night, his parents would have taken it away. As it was, they’d revoked his driving privileges for the summer as a consequence. His trip to Charlotte wouldn’t happen if he couldn’t ride with her parents.

“Mind you,” Dad said, strolling to the side of the truck, “this one isn’t street legal. Trails and track only. And we’ll talk about the payments later.”

Calvin held his breath as Dave finally yanked off the tarp. Blue fenders and gas tank, sweeping lines, high ground clearance …

“It’s … it’s….” The 2012 Yamaha YZ250 from the shop. Practically new, Flannery had said. Just right for him. Someone had convinced his parents of it.

Something clicked next to him.

Tyler grinned at the picture he’d just taken with his cell phone. “Brilliant. Promised I’d print this and send it to Stacey.”

So somehow she knew. And that explained her note about the bike. Calvin laughed and climbed into the trailer with Dave. The man tossed a strap over the rear of the bike, then reached into his
shirt pocket and pulled out an envelope. “I’m supposed to give you this too.”

Calvin stroked the tapered seat of the motocross bike. Shaking a little, his hands reached for the grips.

“Earth to Calvin.” Dave tapped the envelope against his chest. “Read this first. I’ll get the bike unloaded for you.”

They were all determined to torture him.

Calvin opened the envelope. Inside was a gift certificate for Dave’s shop and a note.

For your birthday … You saved our daughter’s life, and for that we are eternally grateful. We want to give you something that could save yours, although we hope you’ll never have to use it for that. This gift certificate is for a new helmet to go with your new motorcycle. Happy birthday and happy riding
.

Stan and Kate Varnell

Tears stung Calvin’s eyes. “Wow. Oh, wow.” He blew out his breath and refolded the note. He handed the envelope over the side of the trailer to his mother then pointed at Tyler. “This new machine is gonna whup your butt, dude!”

“Yeah? We’ll see about that. You got until November to be ready for the winter races. Think you’ll learn to keep it upright by then?”

“Ha!” Calvin turned and dove for the final clamp at the front of the bike.

Things I love most about Calvin Greenlee. #1: Your heart. You loved me, even when I was at my worst. You stayed with me, even when other guys would have bailed. You knew what was right for me, even when I was blind to it myself. You rescued me, even after I’d pushed you away.
I don’t deserve you, but you’ve chosen to love me anyway. My heart aches to hug you right now! But I know you’ll be there when I’m ready to rejoin life. I love you, Calvin. Happy 17th birthday
.

Lying in bed, Calvin read the note again. This one was over the top. But the core message, the poetic phrasing, the image in his mind of Stacey forming every letter perfectly like she always did—brushing her hair back behind her ears, maybe sitting cross-legged in her bed—it connected him to her.

What she claimed he did for her—he couldn’t have done anything less.

Their relationship might never be easy or “normal.” Between what her parents had told him and the research he’d done, he knew Stacey could battle anorexia for the rest of her life. Even after she acknowledged the dangers of eating disorders, even after she recovered to the point where she could come home and go to school, the deep mental baggage she carried could haunt her forever. Stacey’s burden would be heavier than he could imagine.