Skinny (7 page)

Melissa untangled the wires from around her head, retrieved her iPod, and wiped it clean on her pants. She stowed the whole contraption in her bag, stood up, and started for home. Melissa stopped at the flashing “Don’t Walk” at the crosswalk. Her tears felt like icicles on her face. She drew her wool letter jacket tighter to chase off the chill. Her tears halted as she felt Beau’s football pin poke her mitten. She wore it on her dance team letter.

Thinking of Beau’s warm hand placing the cold pin in hers made her smile. She inhaled the crisp January air.

Please help me do my best, God. Please.

Melissa stopped herself. She knew she shouldn’t ask God to let her be captain, but it was what she wanted. She lifted her hand to her mouth to nibble her nails but only found wool mittens. She sighed.

Please help me do the best I can. I’ll do whatever You want. I’ll be less greedy about junk food. I’ll study harder. I’ll practice more. Please? Amen.

B
rrring. Brrring.

Melissa jumped from the warm indentation on the couch where she had been watching her favorite show. The rest of her family remained glued to the TV as she darted into the kitchen practically out of breath. She smiled, cocking her head sideways so her ponytail flopped. The number on the caller ID was not Beau’s.

“Hello?” Melissa straightened her head and closed her grin.

“Hello, Melissa, it’s Mrs. Gregory. Is your mom there?”

“Yeah. Just a minute, Mrs. Gregory.” She sulked back to the family room.

“Mom, phone.”

“Thanks, sweetie.” Mom took the phone from her hand and smiled.

Melissa’s stomach felt hollow like the inside of a chocolate bunny. The corners of her eyes stung. Why wasn’t it Beau? She slunk back into her seat, curled her legs up to her chest, and tucked them under her hooded sweatshirt.

Ever since school had started back up, things hadn’t felt right with Beau. Sure, homework was overwhelming. She had Saturday morning officer rehearsals on top of regular dance team practice. He was busy with basketball. But Melissa hadn’t seen Beau outside of French and Algebra classes in two weeks. He hadn’t called either. What had she done wrong?

She reached for a handful of the popcorn Dad had popped. Melissa hoped to fill her empty feeling.

No
, she told herself.
I won’t eat it. I can’t make Beau call me, but I can make myself look good. Beau would like me more if I were thin. Todd will think I’d make a better captain. I can control what I eat. I told God I would.
She retracted her hand.

Dad chuckled his deep laugh along with the canned laughter on the TV. Melissa looked up. He was smiling at her. She smiled back as if she also thought the show was funny. She wished Beau was sitting here smiling at her. She missed him.

Should she call Beau? Melissa shook her head. He hadn’t called her, but she hadn’t called him either. There was something about calling boys. She had never done it. She wouldn’t let herself start now. Mom was on the phone anyway. Maybe when Mom got off . . .

Ten minutes later Dad stood up. “Good episode. It’s always so funny.” Melissa felt a tug on her ponytail as Dad left the room.

“Dad!” He’d been pulling her ponytails as long as she could remember.

Melissa stood, looked toward the ceiling, and nibbled on her index fingernail. She walked into the kitchen. She tilted her head and wiggled her fingers. She was thinking about calling Beau. She rocked back and forth from her toes to her heels. Her shoulders relaxed when she heard Mom.

“I think we’re supposed to be there by ten thirty so we can get places set and drinks poured before they open the shelter for lunch.”

If Mom was still on the phone then Melissa couldn’t call Beau. She exhaled. One less thing to worry about.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, “I have to read those crazy French articles and do all those Algebra problems before I can go to bed.” She grabbed her backpack from the laundry room and unzipped it. “And write a poem for English!” she yelled at herself. “Aaagh!”

Mom covered the mouthpiece on the phone. “You okay, Mel?”

“Yeah. If you call having thirty-eight hours of homework to do okay. No, really, I’m fine. Totally fine.” She shrugged her shoulders, and trudged to her room.

She dropped her books on her desk and pulled out her pj’s. “I might as well get comfortable,” she said and sighed. As Melissa undressed, she looked in the mirror. Her stomach seemed to protrude more than normal. Her thighs jiggled like Jell-O when she moved. She pulled on her snuggly flannels with the kitten print as fast as she could. She liked the way their loose fit hid her body.

“I need to get skinny.”

She went back down to the kitchen to get her usual study snack, but with the willpower of a monk she grabbed only a diet root beer and a glass of ice. A cool calm filled Melissa’s veins. She felt more in control than she had in days. She set her music to play Beethoven, “thinking music,” she always called it. She stacked her homework carefully in order of importance. She plowed through French, Algebra, and even wrote a decent poem. Things didn’t have to be overwhelming. She just had to be in charge of them. She couldn’t let homework and Beau and dance rule her. She stayed up late, but she got it all done. When she finally closed her eyes, sleep immediately took over her tired brain and empty body.

She woke up exhausted but ready for her new plan. She weighed herself before and after showering. She weighed more afterward, which sent her pulse racing like a food processor. “No,” she said out loud. “I only weigh more now because of all this wet hair. From now on I will only weigh myself with dry hair.”

Downstairs she moved methodically, toasting a blueberry bagel, skipping the cream cheese. She started to pour a glass of orange juice but, noticing the caloric content of an eight-ounce serving on the carton, stopped at half a glass. She filled the rest of the glass with filtered water from the fridge. Melissa pulled out a shiny silver teaspoon and stirred. The small spoon clanged against the glass four times. She sat down at the table and took small sips and bites, enjoying the sensible breakfast she had prepared.

“See, I can still eat and be healthy and be on time for school.”

As she loaded her dishes in the dishwasher, Mom and Dad came down still in their robes.

“Good morning, Mel,” Dad mumbled as he shuffled his slippers toward the coffeemaker.

“Good morning, sweetie.” Mom softly kissed the top of her head.

Beep! Beep!
Tanner’s horn blared from the driveway.

“Good morning, good-bye.” Melissa laughed as she buttoned her coat. “Have a great day!” She felt good—really good. As she walked toward Tanner’s car humming in the driveway, she began strategizing how to get through the rest of her day.

1.   She could get a sandwich and a banana at lunch. She would eat just half of the sandwich.

2.   She would write down all of her homework assignments in one notebook, class by class, so she could gather all of the right books to take home from her locker and have a plan of attack after dinner.

3.   She would stretch extra long after dance practice so she wouldn’t pull any muscles. She couldn’t afford to get hurt now, not with officer tryouts approaching.

M
elissa got an A on her French paper, a 94 on her Algebra test, and successfully executed her lab in Chemistry. She placed a red check mark in her notebook next to “Chem Lab,” flipped the pen, slid the red plastic cap from the bottom, and replaced it firmly on the top. She slid the pen in the zippered pouch of her backpack, where she removed a green pen. She removed the lid, placed it on the bottom of the pen, and wrote, “Chem—Read Ch 18.” Her stomach growled. A hollow thud hit from inside. She told herself it was okay. In fact, the feeling excited her a little. She was on track and in charge. She only had one more class until lunch, and then she could eat a piece of fruit and half a turkey and tomato sandwich. Maybe today she’d buy an apple. Her mouth watered at the thought of the juicy sweet-mixed-with-tart flavor of the fruit. She replaced the green pen’s lid and zipped it safely in its home.

Rrrriinng.

“Class dismissed.” Mr. Dougherty smiled from behind his thin moustache.

Melissa sucked in her stomach and strode out of the room.

“Oops!” Running over her list of homework again in her head, she ran smack into someone. Tootsie Pops sounded like hailstones pelting pavement as they scattered across the tiled floor.

“Sorry,” she pleaded without looking up as she dropped to her knees to salvage the suckers.

“That’s all right,” came the familiar drawl.

Beau. Melissa looked up. “Hey.” Her throat felt thick. Goosebumps tickled her arms. Her methodical manner melted. She dropped her gaze to the floor, not able to look into his soft brown eyes.

“Let me help you, my lady,” Beau said with a fake bow. “What’s going on in that head that you don’t even see me?”

“Sorry.” Melissa smiled and tilted her head. Her ponytail swooshed to the side. “How could I have not seen you? I’m just trying to figure out how I’m going to get through all of this homework. Crazy.”

“Me, too.” Beau slid the last chocolate lollipop into the cardboard box. “Between basketball and school I haven’t been able to breathe.”

Melissa stood with him. “Yeah, at least it’s Friday.” She widened her eyes. Maybe he would ask her out. Maybe everything was okay after all. She had been immersed in officer tryouts and school. Beau could be just as busy.

“Melissa . . .” Beau waited until she looked him in the eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t called.”

“It’s okay. Really. I’ve been buried, ya know? Officer tryouts, that French project, the Algebra exam. It’s been insane—good, but insane.”

“Are you really trying out for officer?” Beau tapped her on the back.

She felt like she’d swallowed an entire egg still in its shell. Melissa hadn’t meant to tell him. She could feel the pink creeping across her cheeks.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. I’m just doing it for fun. Underclassmen never make it. I just thought it would be great practice. You know? Then maybe next year or the year after I’d have a chance.”

“I bet you could be captain.” He grinned.

“Not likely.” Melissa rolled her eyes.

“See you later.” Beau winked and turned down the hall to his next class.

Melissa could not contain her smile. She floated the rest of the way to English, plopped into her chair, and grabbed a chocolate Tootsie Pop. She was pretty sure it was the one Beau had just touched. Before she realized what she was doing, she popped it in her mouth. She jumped and pulled the sucker from her lips. Then she reminded herself it was only sixty calories and no fat. Plus, Beau touched it. She pulled a quarter from her backpack and slid it in her candy envelope.

At lunch the gang assembled at their normal table.

Lindsey pulled up an orange plastic chair and wedged her way between Melissa and Gracie. “So, Mel, how many Tootsies have you sold?” Lindsey asked.

“Almost two boxes since we got back from break, including the ones I’ve eaten.”

“You don’t look like you’ve eaten any of them,” Gracie said between sips of juice. “You look model thin.”

“Hardly.” Melissa shook her head.

“I’m serious,” Gracie said.

This should have been a compliment, but Melissa sensed something other than praise in Gracie’s voice.

“So do y’all want to sleep over at my house tonight after the game?” Raven asked, her enormous brown eyes darting around the table.

“For real?” shrieked Emma. “I’m in!”

“Me too.” Melissa nodded. “If my folks let me.”

“Of course they will.” Gracie elbowed her. “Drew has an away hockey game, so I’m in. We’ll all come!”

Raven smiled, her ultra-white teeth shining between her stained brick red lips. “Mom said we could order pizza and bake brownies and rent the new movie with Jennifer Lawrence.”

“I love her,” Emma mumbled with her mouth full of Cheetos.

“She is gorgeous,” Lindsey agreed. “I think she needs to pluck her eyebrows though.”

Melissa looked at Lindsey’s perfectly groomed brow line. “Only you, Linds, would even notice.”

“I just don’t know how some of these movie stars get away with poor hygiene. If I had all that money, I’d get my teeth bleached and a spray-on tan.”

“Maybe you should be a makeup artist,” suggested Gracie. “I never know which color is best for what.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty much a lip gloss and mascara girl.” Melissa shrugged.

Lindsey scrolled her phone to Pinterest to show Melissa and Gracie the new Fabulous Fuscia nail polish she wanted.

Melissa glanced at the inviting images, but her mind replayed her conversation with Beau in the hallway. He’d probably be the star of the game tonight. Did he say he would call her? She couldn’t remember.

A
nd twist, twist, grab the box, and twist, twist, turn around, and twist, twist, HOLD, two, three, four.

Melissa kicked her right leg in the air exactly one second after Jill next to her kicked her right leg, and then Stacey kicked her right leg exactly one second after Melissa did. The whole team landed in the splits in a beautiful ripple effect.

Cheers and whistles came from the bleachers as the dance team held their pose with their chins up high and perfect smiles plastered on their faces.

Tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet.

The captain blew her whistle.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap.

The dance team stood up together like soldiers, turned to face the basket, and marched out the side door, the heels of their saddle shoes slapping the gym floor.

With her chin still pointed upward, out of her peripheral vision Melissa could see the players gathering around the bench. Beau’s dark curls contrasted sharply against the white uniforms, making him easy to spot. Careful not to stare or break stride, she continued marching until she was in the hallway. Once outside of the audience’s view, she tossed back her head and laughed. Blood rushed through her veins like a tidal wave. Was it adrenaline from dancing or from seeing Beau?