Skinny (6 page)

“Beau, will you pass out these handouts,
s’il vous plaît
? These are articles from a French newspaper. They include everything from movies to politics in Paris. You will receive a packet like this each week.”

Beau handed Melissa a packet and rolled his eyes. She smiled at Beau, then grimaced when she looked at the packet. The articles were completely in French!

In Algebra, Mrs. Poppendeck announced she would start giving weekly quizzes to keep the students “up to speed on the plethora of new material they would be covering.”

Raven waved to Melissa in the hall before Chemistry. “Hello, Yellow. How’s the first day back?”

“Great! I mean, I so don’t want to be here,” Melissa said, “but I will get to see Beau every day.”

“You are so twitterpated,” Raven said.

“No. I’m not in love or anything. I’m way too young for that.” Melissa shook her head. Well, maybe this is what love would feel like when she was older.

“I know, I know,” Raven drawled. “But he is super cute.”

“Isn’t he?” Melissa giggled. “Anyway, I’m not excited to see Monsieur Renauld every day. I swear he expects me to be fluent in French in just months!”

“I’m freaked out about History. How are we supposed to remember the names of all those dead guys?”

“Please don’t even get me started on History!” Melissa raised her eyebrows. “How will I ever keep my grades up
and
be good enough for captain?”

“Smarty pants, you’re the last person I’m worried about,” Raven teased. “You always have the highest grades.” Raven waved to one of her brother Randy’s friends as they wove their way down the congested hall.

“Hardly! High school is so incredibly hard!” Melissa tugged on her brown mane to tighten her ponytail. Several strands of hair remained in her hand like coffee-colored wisps of cotton candy tangled in her fingers. She discreetly dropped them on the floor behind her, hoping nobody, especially Raven, had seen.

“You’ll do fine. Gotta run to English. We’re probably reading eighteen novels this week.” Raven laughed.

“Later!” Melissa darted to the door of Chemistry. Down the hall she saw Beau, but he looked like he was in deep conversation with the basketball coach. Mr. Harris’s mustache bobbed up and down as his lips moved. His dark eyes flashed with intensity. Melissa shrugged and decided to talk to Beau later.

At home Melissa pulled out her Chemistry book. She desperately needed to pull her grade up. She tried memorizing the semiconductors on her periodic chart. Blah, blah, blah. She couldn’t concentrate. She slid the textbook back into her backpack. She picked up
501 French Verbs. Manger—to eat, je mange, tu manges, il/elle mange, nous mangeons, vous mangez, ils/elles mangent.
“Got it,” Melissa said, sliding the book back into her bag.

“Speaking of eating, I’m hungry.” Melissa was getting used to the permanent pit in her stomach, but sometimes it felt emptier than others. She turned toward the kitchen, then saw her yoga mat rolled up by the basement door. “I shouldn’t be eating. I should be working out.”

She took her mat down the stairs and flopped on the squishy blue foam, extending her legs, and pointing her toes in front of her. She leaned over until her nose touched her knees, feeling the satisfying pull on the underside of her thighs and the insides of her calves. She’d better do some sit-ups.

“Mel,” Mom called from the kitchen.

“I’m down here.”

“Can you come up a minute?”

“Yeah,” Melissa answered, dreading going into the kitchen. How could she keep from snacking if she was surrounded by food?

“Are you in the mood for spaghetti or lasagna for dinner? I’m cooking Italian. I just can’t decide what.”

As Melissa topped the stairs, she saw Mom’s back, peeking in the pantry.

“Lasagna!” Melissa said without thinking. It was one of her favorites.

“If I make it, will you help?”

“Sure, anything for your hot, cheesy lasagna, Mom.” But as soon as she spoke the words, Melissa regretted them. How could she subject herself to such a decadent meal?

/    /    /

I
n bed that night Melissa felt uncomfortably full of spicy garlic bread and gooey pasta. She hadn’t been able to resist! Her face was warm, and she felt nauseous from the guilt of her gluttony. She read in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians that the human body is home to the Holy Spirit and that we should take care of it.

Dear God, I’m sorry I ate like a pig. I know my body is Your house and I should take care of it, not cram it with carbs. It was yummy, though. Is that bad? Is it awful to enjoy food so much? I think I shouldn’t be so obsessed with food. It seems selfish. Let me know.
Amen.

T
he shrill beeps of Melissa’s alarm clock jerked her from her slumber. Red numbers declared it six o’clock in her dark room.

“Ugh!” She closed her heavy eyes for one second, then forced them open. This was the first Saturday of training sessions with Todd for officer tryouts. She had to be in the gym ready to dance in one hour, but she didn’t feel like she could move. She pulled back her warm covers. The chilly morning air bit her skin.

Melissa shivered. The hot spray from the shower prickled then finally permeated her goose bumps. She let the heat sink in, waking and warming her.

After pulling her soft gray sweat pants and matching hoodie over her shorts and T-shirt, she headed downstairs. She knew she should eat something to give her enough energy to get through practice, but she also knew Todd would never pick a fat girl to be captain!

Melissa rooted through the bread drawer. Blueberry bagels—perfect. She toasted half a bagel and pulled a banana from the fruit basket sitting on the counter. She took the cream cheese out of the fridge and read the label: 10 grams of fat per two tablespoon serving.

“Wow! I don’t need that.” She decided to just eat a dry bagel.

“Good morning.” Dad ruffled her hair on the way to the coffeepot. “Early for a weekend, don’t you think?”

“Morning, Dad.” Melissa sat down at the table. “Rehearsal for officer tryouts. Did Mom tell you?”

“Oh yeah.” He rummaged through the cupboard for a filter. “I’m really proud of you for doing this. You never know until you try. Right?”

“Right.”

Melissa took a bite of bagel and told herself it was just as yummy this way as with cream cheese and so much healthier without it.

“Did you see Mom before she left?” Dad asked.

The rich scent of coffee permeated the kitchen.

“No, she must have left before I came down.” Melissa washed down the dry crumbs with a glass of orange juice.

“Well, maybe you’ll run into her at the church. She’s setting up that pancake breakfast thing there.”

“Maybe, but I usually go in the back door, straight to the gym. I’ve gotta run, Dad. See you later.”

“Yeah, I’m on deadline, but I’ll be writing from the house. Guess we’re all up way too early for the weekend. Come see me when you get home. I’ll look forward to the break.”

At 6:40, Melissa was out the door.

The frigid January wind undid all of the warming of her shower, but it also roused Melissa’s senses. She huddled inside her coat as she tromped to the church gym. Even in January the high school gym was booked with boys’ and girls’ basketball, wrestling, and cheerleading.

Five other girls from the team were already there—four juniors and one sophomore. Melissa was the only freshman. She smiled at her teammates as she unbundled herself. She mentally sized up their abilities. Katie and Julia were sweet girls and good dancers but not very organized or dedicated. They were usually late to practice or forgot their props. J. T. was the most together person she knew and an excellent dancer, but she was quiet. The captain would need to be more assertive. But Stacey. Well, Stacey . . . she had it all! Stacey’s crystal blue eyes didn’t notice Melissa watching her. She was too busy stretching her ever-tan, muscular legs.

And then there was Jill. Jill sat on a bench completely relaxed. Her clumpy mascara seemed smeared in the early morning. Or was it left over from last night? Melissa tried to like everybody, especially the other girls on the team. But with Jill, it wasn’t so easy.

“What are you doing here?” Jill glared.

Melissa smiled and shrugged, wondering why she
was
here. She was only a freshman. What was she thinking? She glanced at the clock: 6:55. She watched the minute hand tick, hoping no one else would show up. She tried to shrink her limbs into her baggy T-shirt like a turtle hiding in its shell.

“Okay, ladies, are we ready to rumba?” Todd’s voice filled the gym as he came in the side door wearing faded black sweatpants and an equally faded navy blue sweatshirt. He clapped his hands as he moved front and center.

All six girls stopped what they were doing and gravitated toward Todd.

“Good morning! Isn’t it?” He cocked his head and winked, knowing it was early and cold. “This morning is the first day of officer tryouts.”

Tryouts!
Melissa’s inner voice screamed.

“I thought this was practice for tryouts, Todd,” Katie blurted.

“Yes, yes. I did say that.” Todd smirked and turned his back on them as he popped on the music. He turned back around.

“Today we will begin learning the sequence for officer tryouts. But . . . but, but, but there is a lot more to being an officer than performing the routine at the audition in March. I will begin evaluating all of that other stuff”—he waved his hands inwardly together—“starting now.”

Melissa exhaled.
As long as actual tryouts aren’t today!
Still, her heart vibrated in her chest as if she’d just done thirty high kicks. Todd would be watching how they learned, how they acted toward one another, what their attitudes were. She rolled her shoulders back, stood up straight, and smiled. She couldn’t control the other girls, but Melissa could take charge of how she performed.
I will smile. I will be alert. I will pay attention. I will ask the right questions. I will act like a captain.

“So how many of you braved it here?” Todd asked. “One, two, three, four, five, and six. Not bad, that’s almost half of our returning ladies. Let’s get started.”

Boom! Boom! Boom!
The music pulsated.

“I love this song!” Melissa blurted. Her eyes popped open in surprise at herself.

“You would.” Jill snickered.

Melissa felt the heat of embarrassment burning behind her ears.

Todd smiled and squeezed Melissa’s hand as he circled by. “Me too!”

Melissa didn’t dare look at Jill but could feel her rolling her raccoon eyes.

“And five and six and follow me.” Todd tapped the waxed wood floor with his left foot. Todd demonstrated the first sequence while the girls tried to follow his movements.

“Now, again!” Todd shouted, shuffling and spinning.

“Your turn.” Todd started the music again.

“Pow!” emphasized Todd.

Melissa shot her right arm up toward the ceiling and her left hand straight in front of her. Both were in perfect jazz hands, and her chin snapped upward. She was staring right into the bottom of the basketball hoop.
Was Beau at basketball practice right now? He must be practicing a lot. He hasn’t called in days. Is it just basketball?

Slap, slap
. The sounds of hands hitting thighs and dancers changing positions echoed through the gym.

“Melissa, care to join in?” asked Todd.

Melissa felt the searing heat spread from the nape of her neck, up her scalp, and around her ears. Hot tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she fought them back. She spun around to face the back wall and joined in the kick sequence two steps behind the others. She forced a fake grin and concentrated on the routine. This was not the time to wallow in her mistake. It would only draw more attention to her. Todd always said, “If you mess up, act like you didn’t, and the audience will never notice.”

Two hours later Todd finally announced, “That’s a wrap.” Melissa’s legs fumbled to the bleachers and collapsed. She sucked down half her water in one gulp and wiped her sweaty forehead with the fuzzy towel she had packed in her bag.

“You look winded,” Jill sneered as she zipped her jacket.

“What a fun routine.” Stacey bobbed her head from side to side as if still dancing.

“It is fun,” Melissa agreed. She was thinking to herself,
Fun but really tough
, but she didn’t want the other girls to think she was incapable.

Julia grabbed her bag as she headed for the door. “Oh so fun and so very easy.” She overemphasized her words, tossed her head back, and laughed at her sarcasm.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” answered J. T.

Melissa popped her earbuds in and pushed play, hoping her fallback band, the Beatles, would drown out her uneasiness. She walked home as quickly as she could, her hood pulled up against the chill.

She was such a fool! She couldn’t even concentrate on the routine. She had to think about Beau. He probably wasn’t missing shots at basketball thinking about her! The heat of embarrassment returned, spreading all the way across Melissa’s forehead.

Jill was awful! How could she be so mean? Melissa’s eyebrows felt like someone was pushing them. Her jaw was stiff. Why was she getting so worked up? Why was she even doing this? She would never make captain! She should have slept in!

Jill’s sneer flashed in her mind. At that moment, Melissa slipped on a patch of ice and fell on her knees, ripping a hole in the knee of her worn pants. Her iPod crashed to the ground, yanking the earbuds from her ears, where they got tangled in the confines of her hood. The notes of
Rubber Soul
bounced on the ice and dissolved in a pile of snow.

A sharp stinging throbbed from her knee. The icy pavement bit her crouched legs with cold. The street was empty. She let the tears spill down her face this time. There was no one to see them.

Dear God, are You telling me I shouldn’t try out? I’m such a mess! I’m awful at Chemistry, Beau hasn’t called, and I’m a big clumsy cow! Are You punishing me? What have I done? What could I do better?