Skinny (2 page)

A boy she didn’t recognize sat in her regular chair that was next to her best friend since second grade, Gracie. The stranger had square shoulders that looked like the bottom side of a triangle and dark, shiny hair that curled around his ears and the back of his neck. The seat immediately behind him was vacant because Jamal was absent today. Melissa slid into Jamal’s empty wooden seat and caught her breath.

The new kid smelled nice, like . . . soap. That was it. Soap. Not the fruity, florally, jellybean-colored soaps that Melissa and her friends bought at the Bubble Bath Boutique but good, old-fashioned, clean-smelling soap.

The boy turned and looked at her with round, coffee-colored eyes framed by thick, dark lashes Melissa would kill for. It was as if he had sensed her smelling him.

Melissa leaned back and smiled.

He smiled back, then turned to face the front as Monsieur Renauld said,
“Bonjour, mes amis.”

“Bonjour, Monsieur Renauld,”
the class chanted in unison.

Melissa stole a glance at Gracie. She and Gracie knew each other better than anyone else in the world, even their parents. She knew Gracie would be thinking the same thing she was. Gracie winked a narrow, dark eye at Melissa, then flipped her head, her sleek, black bob swinging onto her shoulders.

Melissa’s silver charm bracelet jingled as she inadvertently raised her left hand to her mouth and nibbled her nails.

“Class, I would like to introduce you to our new student,” Monsieur Renauld’s nasally voice droned. The teacher nodded toward the new boy.

Melissa pulled her hand from her mouth, disgusted at her icky habit. She didn’t mean to bite her fingernails. She just did. Whenever she was bored in class, talking on the phone, or flipping through a magazine, those nubby nails seemed to end up between her teeth.

I will quit chewing my nails this instant so this cute boy won’t see my stubby fingernails
, she silently vowed.

“This is Beau Pointreaux. He comes to us from New Orleans.”

Beau gave a weak smile and quickly sank back into his chair.

“Maintenant, nous sommes commençons avec les mots de Halloween.”

Melissa’s mouth formed the correct pronunciation of the French words for
ghost
and
pumpkin
. She loved French class, partly because she was good at it. The rolling syllables felt natural to her tongue, not stilted as they were for most of her classmates. She also loved the idea of France: the scenes of beautiful people impeccably dressed, strolling down charming streets, and sipping foam-capped coffees at crowded cafés. Actually, she loved all of her classes, except Chemistry. What did atoms have to do with the rest of her life anyway?

The scent of soap wafted her way again.

He is so cute! Beau Pointreaux, Beau Pointreaux,
she repeated to herself.

After class Gracie grabbed Melissa’s elbow with her dainty hand. “Don’t let Drew hear me say it, but he is, like, so cute!” she whisper-screamed in Melissa’s ear.

“I’d say
perfect
!” Melissa emphasized. “And”—she raised her eyebrows—“he smells
mmmmmm
. But it’s not fair for
you
to like him. One, you already have a boyfriend, and two, you’re so skinny I could never compete!”

Beau shuffled past them. Melissa and Gracie fell silent, then erupted in uncontrollable giggles.

“It doesn’t seem exactly fair that he’s in French class,” Gracie griped. “I mean, he’s French. That would be like me taking Mandarin.”

“He’s not from France!” Melissa laughed. “Lots of people in New Orleans have French heritage, you know, French names.”

“Oh, I know. Beau Pointreaux? Poor guy. What a name. . . .” Gracie shook her head.

“Yeah, what a name,” Melissa cooed. “Anyway, I’m glad he’s in our class.” She tucked her hair behind her ears.

“I wonder why?” Gracie grinned.

“Maybe he can tutor me.” Melissa raised her eyebrows.

“Like you need a tutor, Miss Honor Student.” Gracie shook her head.

“Here’s me.” Melissa grinned, turning toward her Algebra room.

“See ya, Yellow,” Gracie called, using Melissa’s nickname that had evolved from calling her Mel, then Mellow, then Mello Yello, and finally just Yellow.

“
Au revoir,
Gray,” Melissa lobbed back and darted in her classroom just as the second period bell rang.

Standing next to the scrawny Mrs. Poppendeck in the front of the classroom was Beau.

“B
eat, beat, beat, beat, beat,” Todd repeated as his left foot flexed and tapped the Achilles tendon on his right foot. “And twist, two, three, four.”

Melissa swiveled her hips in perfect time with the music. When she was on the dance floor, there was nothing else—no school, no parents, no one to please—just music and movement. She felt the music was part of her. Her body itched to move to the notes booming from the speakers. Her adrenaline rushed, and she felt reckless and giddy.

“Okay, everyone take five while I make an announcement,” said Todd dramatically, wiping the sweat from his mustache with a towel.

Melissa walked to the back of the gym and pulled a bottled water out of her bag. She cracked the seal and gulped down a third of the bottle before she came up for air. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, she smiled at Lindsey, then walked back toward Todd.

The team of girls formed a circle around the only male among them. Sweat glistened on all of their fit bodies. Some nodded or smiled, but no one spoke.

“Soooo,” Todd began, “several of you ladies have been asking about officer auditions for next year.” He paused to sip his water. “Anyone interested in trying out needs to let me know by the end of November.” He tapped the ball of his foot on the floor, then flipped it over so the top side of his toes slapped the hard wood.

“After that, I’m on break until after Christmas. When we come back together in January, I’ll start teaching the sequence on Saturday mornings at seven o’clock.”

A loud groan came from everyone.

Todd smiled slyly and shifted his large brown eyes from left to right, building anticipation in his team. “You’ll have all of February to practice on your own and to make sure your bodies are in perfect shape. We’ll have auditions in March, right before I head to the beach for Spring Break.” Todd flipped his head back like a diva. “Oh, and auditions are open to everyone.”

Melissa’s heart raced inside her gray T-shirt. She was only a freshman, and her body was
not
in perfect shape, but something deep inside of her craved the slot of captain, or at least lieutenant. She had always earned solos in her ballet and jazz recitals, but this was different. The girls on this team were so talented! Plus, the older girls had more experience. As far as she knew, there had never been an underclass officer before.

There were twenty girls on the team and only two slots. Of course, not everyone would try out, and the seniors would graduate, but still! Melissa wanted it so much she could taste the metallic captain’s whistle in her mouth.

“Okay, enough chitchat.” Todd waited for everyone to resume their places. “And five, six, here we go.” He pushed play, and the notes of the electric piano echoed through the gym.

Melissa took a deep breath and prayed a silent prayer.
Dear God, I don’t know why I want this so badly, but please let me get it. I’ll work so hard for it. I’ll do anything,
Melissa pleaded while spotting the front wall to keep from getting dizzy.

/    /    /

M
elissa slammed her door shut, blinked her eyes, and exhaled loudly as she climbed into her mom’s minivan.

“Hi,” she panted, out of breath.

“Hi, sweetie. Good practice today?” asked Mom, who was, as always, tastefully dressed, in khaki pants and a lavender sweater set.

“Yeah.” Melissa struggled to get settled with three large cardboard boxes around her feet and her gym bag on her lap.

Click.
She fastened her seat belt.

“What are those big yellow boxes?” Mom asked, tilting her head to get a better look.

“Tootsie Pops.”

“Yum. Are they all for me, or did you go ahead and buy the trick-or-treat candy this year?” Mom winked. Melissa had gotten most of her mother’s genes. They had the same pine green eyes, the same freckles, and the same thick brown hair, except Mom kept hers cut in a short, sensible style, and Melissa grew hers long enough to touch her belt.

“Very funny, Mom. We have to sell them to raise money for new uniforms.” Melissa repositioned the boxes. “But you could buy all of them from me as your trick-or-treat candy.”

“How much are you charging?” asked Mom.

“A quarter a sucker or five for a dollar.” Melissa flashed her best salesgirl grin.

“Too expensive for me.” Mom waved to Pastor Al, who was walking through the church parking lot. “But I’ll tell you what. I’ll buy ten for our treat jar.”

“That will be two dollars, please.” Melissa held out her hand.

“How about I pay you when we get home, and you can pick out which flavors to fill the jar with, okay?”

“Okay.”

The hum of the heater filled the car.

“Is there something else, Mel?” Mom pulled her gaze from the road to look her daughter in the eye.

“I wish they were M&M’S.”

“You wouldn’t have any allowance left, and you would never fit into your uniform if they were M&M’S,” Mom said with a laugh. “You would eat them all yourself.”

The silence surrounded them again.

Melissa reached to turn up the volume of the Third Day song coming from the speakers.

“Is there something
else
, Mel?”

Mom always knew when something was up.

“Todd announced officer tryouts today,” Melissa said, tracing the designs on the Tootsie box with her index finger.

“Oh?” Mom turned the volume back down.

Melissa knew she was supposed to say more, but she was afraid to say the words out loud.

“Yeah. They’re open to everyone.” Melissa looked out the window, then back at Mom. “Even underclassmen.”

“Are you going to try out?”

For a second Melissa couldn’t breathe. She chewed on the hangnails on either side of her right thumbnail. There it was, out in the open. Was she going to try out?

“I was thinking about it. Well, I’m sure I won’t be picked, but I want to try. It sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

The moment of silence that followed confirmed Melissa’s fears. This was foolish. Then Mom let out a sigh and put her hand on top of Melissa’s. “Melissa, if this is something you really want, then you need to go for it.”

“Maybe I will.” Melissa nodded, relieved. “Maybe.”

At bedtime Melissa pretended her pajamas were the stark white captain’s uniform. She marched around her room blowing an imaginary whistle until she laughed out loud at herself. She tumbled onto her bed and pulled out the leather-bound study Bible she read each night. She opened the vellum pages to the Ten Commandments bookmark her second-grade Sunday school teacher had given her.

She read the words of Matthew 7:7: “Seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.”

Here it is in print. Lord, if I ask You to make me lieutenant or maybe even captain of the team, will You give it to me? I’ve never wanted anything this badly. I know it sounds selfish, but I really think I could help. Oh, by the way, could You help me sell all of my Tootsie Pops too? Back to the officer thing, I could make the underclassmen feel wanted. I could start a Bible study for the girls who were interested after practice. I could . . .

Melissa drifted to sleep.

M
elissa stared at the clock: 5:53 a.m. She turned off her alarm before it rang and reluctantly peeled off her cozy covers. Classes started at seven thirty, and if she wanted to have time to get ready, eat, and stop by her locker before school started, she had to wake up even before her parents!

She showered, pulled on her pleated uniform skirt and matching sweater, and brushed her hair into a sleek ponytail. Fridays meant football games, and the dance team had to wear their uniforms with their hair pulled back to school. She loved Fridays! Melissa felt important wearing her uniform. The entire school could see she was a good dancer, that she had made the team. Did Beau know she was on the dance team?

She bounded downstairs, planning to grab a bagel before Gracie’s big brother, Tanner, showed up to take her to school. Tanner was sixteen. Ever since he got his license, he had been driving Gracie and Melissa to school. Although Melissa lived close enough to walk to school, it was more fun riding with her best friend, and it was cool showing up each day in a car.

Melissa rounded the corner to the kitchen.

“Happy birthday!” Mom and Dad grinned, still in their pajamas.

The kitchen table was piled with chocolate chip pancakes, syrup, and butter. Yellow balloons and streamers hung from the brass chandelier. Three packages wrapped in crisp white paper and tied with yellow bows sat at her place.

Melissa’s whole face smiled, even her eyes.

“Yummy!”

She sat down at her place and glanced at the kitchen clock and then back at the presents.

“We know you don’t have much time,” said Mom. “But it wouldn’t be a birthday without presents and treats. You start opening, and I’ll fix your plate.”

Dad took a sip of coffee and nodded. He looked like he’d been awake all of two minutes. His thinning sandy hair was tousled, and his lively green eyes hid behind his thick Clark Kent–style glasses. Melissa loved those glasses. She thought they made Dad look the part of the magazine editor he was.

Melissa tore open the small package on top—a silver pom pom charm.

“I love it!” Her eyes widened as she unhooked her bracelet to add the new charm. She extended her wrist and shook it gently so the charms tinkled.

“Glad you like it.” Dad nodded.

She shoved a huge bite of fluffy pancake drenched in syrup and filled with melted bits of chocolate into her mouth.