Skinny (3 page)

“Mom, these are so good!”

Her other boxes held jeans, a yellow sweater, and iTunes and Amazon gift cards. No cell phone. Not that she was expecting one. Her parents had made it pretty clear she couldn’t have one until she was a sophomore. But she was the only student in her entire high school without a phone. Her friends had to call her on her mom’s phone. And forget about texting. It was more than embarrassing. It was pathetic.

Beep! Beep!
Tanner pulled into the driveway.

Melissa gulped down another bite of pancake.

“Thanks, guys, you’re the best—really, the best.” Melissa shook her head. “That’s Tanner. Gotta go.”

“You barely ate anything,” Mom protested.

Melissa stooped over and shoveled in two more bites as she threw her backpack over her shoulder.

“Happy birthday, sweetie,” said Dad.

“Happy birthday,” Mom echoed.

/    /    /

K
ick, kick, fan. Kick, kick, kick, down
—
into the splits.

Melissa’s heart thundered in her chest. The last chord of the band echoed throughout the stadium, hanging in the air for a moment. The note was then overpowered by applause from the bleachers.

Knee up, stand up,
s
tep right, cross. Bow, two, three and stand and smile
.

She beamed toward the stadium lights. She had nailed the routine—every kick, turn, and step of it—the last halftime performance of the football season. Melissa ran toward the sidelines with the other members of the team. Adrenaline popped through her veins like fireworks. Metallic gold pompoms crinkled by her sides.

“Woo-hooo!” Alyssa, the captain, shouted.

Melissa turned to hug Lindsey. As she squeezed her friend’s polyester uniform, she caught a glimpse of Beau running back onto the field. She could see only his dark eyes peeking out from his helmet, but she knew it was Beau by the number fourteen tattooed across his jersey.

Lindsey was saying something.

“Uh-huh.” Melissa nodded as they released their hug.

Lindsey turned to see what was mesmerizing Melissa. “Who are you ogling?”

Melissa hadn’t told anyone except Gracie about her crush on Beau. She had just met all of her other friends at the beginning of school, and she didn’t want them to think she was silly. Beau would never like her. She just grinned.

“Tell me who it is!” Lindsey demanded, her voice rising in pitch.

Melissa looked around to make sure no one was listening.

“Promise you won’t tell?” she asked, tilting her head toward Lindsey’s.

“Promise.” Lindsey nodded.

“Beau Pointreaux,” Melissa whispered. She didn’t want anyone to know, especially Jill, who was walking by with permaglare on her face.

“Shut up!” Lindsey squealed. “That new guy? He is sooo cute! Does he know you like him?”

“Well, he didn’t,” Melissa said. “But I’m sure he does now, thanks to you.”

Lindsey waved her hand. “He didn’t hear. We have got to get him to ask you out.” Lindsey giggled as they walked back to their spot in the end zone.

“There is definitely no chance of that.” Melissa shook her head. Then she stole another glance at the sidelines. There he was—number fourteen. Her heart jumped in her chest like a piece of popcorn in a pan of sizzling oil.

Even though she was sweating from her performance, the chilly autumn evening made her shiver. She pulled on her navy and white wool letter jacket. She cheered and laughed and even watched a little bit of the game with the other girls. The Huskies were winning by six points as the clock ticked down the end of the season.

“Seven, six, five,” the girls chanted.

“Four, three, two, one,” the crowd joined in.

“Yea!” Lindsey and Melissa jumped up and down, cheering a victory.

Eventually the troupe headed back to the band room, where they changed out of their uniforms. As she pulled off her white boots Alyssa announced, “Anyone who’s interested, we’re headed to Pizzaro’s to celebrate!”

“Sounds good to me.” Lindsey licked her lips.

“I love their cheese sticks,” Melissa said, imagining the gooey, melted mozzarella. She pulled at the snap on her jeans. They felt snug. “But I should really head home. Mom and Dad are waiting for me, and I have piles of homework.”

“C’mon.” Lindsey cracked her gum. “I bet one of the older girls will give us a ride. You can ask your folks. Plus, who does homework on a Friday night?”

“Thanks. Next time.” Melissa squeezed Lindsey, slung her bag over her shoulder, and waved to some of the other girls as she made her way out the door. Football season may be over, but basketball season was just starting. The dance team would still have practice on Monday.

She walked down the narrow hall lined with navy blue lockers toward the parking lot. She could almost smell the tangy, greasy air that lingered in the pizza parlor. She wanted those cheese sticks. But if she was trying out for captain, she knew she would have to slim down.

“Hey.” A thick voice, sounding like a Southern drawl stirred into a New York accent, caught Melissa off guard.

Beau stood near the large metal doors leading to the parking lot. His hair was wet, and his soap smell was stronger than ever.

Melissa felt her body tense like she had been tapped in a game of freeze tag. Then a goofy giggle gurgled from her throat.

“Hi.” Melissa cocked her head. “You startled me. The game was great, really. I loved watching us win.” Why couldn’t she think of anything clever to say? Beau was so cute and was actually talking to her, and she was just rambling.

“Thanks.” Beau seemed so calm and mellow. The way the dimple showed in his left cheek when he smiled made Melissa feel dizzy. “You headed out?”

“Yeah, you? I thought all the players probably went out or something.”

There was an awkward pause. Melissa heard her heart beating. She had to say something so Beau wouldn’t hear it too. “I mean, some of the squad is going out, but, well, I wasn’t in the mood, and I have to spend all weekend studying. Did you study French yet?”

Great. Now she sounded like a dork—studying on a Friday night.

Beau opened the heavy door for her.

Melissa’s left index fingernail popped up to her mouth. She pulled it out
. No chewing!

Before she knew it, they were in the parking lot. She could see her parents’ silver van.

“No, I haven’t studied for the test yet,” Beau answered. “Do you want to get together Sunday afternoon and look over it?”

“Yeah . . . yeah, that would be great.” Did he just suggest they get together? Probably just because she was good at French. He just wanted to study with the nerd to do well on the test.

“Do you want to come over to my house? Or I could come to your house?” Beau asked.

“You could come to my house. I mean, I’ll have to check with my folks, but I’m sure it will be fine.” Melissa nodded.

“I’ll call around noon to check, okay?”

Melissa felt all fidgety inside and didn’t know if she could stand there alone with him much longer.

“Super!” she said. Then with a grin, she added, “Bye!” and flipped her ponytail. She wanted to hide inside her parents’ van where she didn’t have to think about what to say or what he thought, but she also wanted to stand near him smelling him and listening to his accent forever.

Melissa paused in the middle of the parking lot, widened her eyes, and shook her head. She could see Beau walking toward a black Jeep.

Beau turned and waved. “Happy birthday, Melissa.”

How did he know?

M
elissa plopped down in a blue plastic chair and put her tray on the round table where her friends were already eating.

“A salad!” Raven shrieked, tilting her head. Her café au lait skin was accented by beautiful deep brown eyes and a heart-shaped mouth with lips so naturally pink she looked as if she were wearing lipstick. Raven’s glossy black hair was always perfectly in place in a hip 1960s flip. “What’s up with that?”

“I’m just trying to be healthy,” Melissa muttered, looking down.

“Healthy, shmealthy,” Lindsey chanted, popping a French fry in her mouth. Lindsey could eat buckets of fries and get away with it. She was so tiny.

“How’d you do on the test?”

Melissa looked up and saw Beau standing beside their table. He looked especially handsome in a black shirt that set off his dark hair and eyes.

“I did okay, I think. I mean, I’m sure I screwed up that essay, but hey, whatever. I think I aced the vocab, thanks to you.” Melissa grinned.

“Vous êtes une étudiante extraordinaire!”
Beau winked and walked away, carrying his tray. His French sounded so exotic in the cafeteria.

Melissa’s cheeks felt like freshly lit candles. He had made a point of coming over to talk to her, even when her friends surrounded her. It broke some barrier or code or unwritten school social rule.

As soon as he was three feet away, the table erupted in giggles.

“You have to tell us all about it!” Emma begged, dipping nachos in bright orange goo. Melissa adored Emma and envied her fiery red hair, but seeing Emma eat the epitome of junk food only to constantly complain about her weight made Melissa nauseous. She wanted to toss Emma’s plastic nacho bowl into the trash for her.

Emma and Lindsey were best friends from grade school. But Melissa wasn’t quite sure if Emma liked her or not. She seemed so different from sweet beauty-queen Lindsey. Theirs was just one of the four grade schools that fed into Spring Hill High. Raven moved here from Atlanta and played soccer with Gracie on the girls’ junior varsity squad. At the beginning of the school year, the girls had clung together, and the five of them had become inseparable.

“Yeah. We want details,” Gracie added.

Melissa swirled the iceberg lettuce with her plastic fork. “Well, he came over on Sunday, and we studied French. No big deal.” She coyly shrugged.

“That’s huge!” Raven exclaimed.

“And your mom went for that?” choked Emma, scrunching her freckled nose.

“I didn’t know if she would at first, but his mom dropped him off and came in and introduced herself. That helped a ton.” Melissa ate a cherry tomato. Its juice squirted the inside of her mouth. “She had on this cross necklace, and our moms started talking about churches in the area for the Pointreauxs to join, and that scored big points. How could Mom not like a churchy family?”

“So how long did he stay?” Gracie asked.

“Three hours!” Melissa’s eyes widened and her ponytail bobbed behind her. She remembered how quickly the afternoon had gone, how she felt so comfortable and nervous at the same time with Beau next to her.

“Shut up!” squealed Emma. “You studied together the whole time?”

“Well, at first . . .”

“Then what?” Raven leaned forward.

“Then Mom brought out birthday cake and ice cream left over from Friday.”

“So he found out it was your birthday.” Lindsey winked as she applied a fresh coat of raspberry lip gloss.

“Yeah.”

“What is it, Yellow? You’re thinking about something.” Gracie knew her better than the others.

“Well, it was weird, kind of. He already knew it was my birthday.”

Brrrrriiinng!

The girls cleared their food and wrappers at the sound of the bell. Melissa tossed her half-eaten salad into the trashcan. It was so tasteless. At least she didn’t have time to eat much of it, but now she was starving!

Her stomach growled. It sounded like a cowbell rattling inside her. Thankfully no one else seemed to hear with all of the commotion of changing classes. All one thousand students flooded the halls, shuffling from one classroom to their locker to their next classroom in the allotted seven minutes.

Melissa slid behind Beau in French class. He turned and smiled.

“Can I buy a Tootsie Pop?”

Dear God, please let him like me.

“Sure, what kind?” Melissa asked as she opened the big yellow box she lugged from class to class.

“What do you recommend?” Beau’s long lashes shifted down to peek inside.

“Chocolate. Definitely chocolate.” She raised her eyebrows. “I’m gonna have one too.”

“Then I’ll take one choc-o-lat,” Beau said in a perfect French accent. He handed her a quarter as Monsieur Renauld stepped to the whiteboard.

Melissa handed him the lollipop and trembled when his hand touched hers. It was soft and warm.

“Would you want me to walk you home today?” Beau’s dimple appeared.

“Bonjour!”
Monsieur Renauld began.

“Bonjour!”
the class echoed.

“Definitely!” Melissa nodded.

Beau turned around to face the front. Melissa doodled his name in her notebook, then scratched it out so no one would see. While Monsieur Renauld conjugated verbs, Melissa replayed the first two minutes of class over and over again in her mind—the warmth of his hand, the way he had asked, as if they had already discussed walking home together, how his deep voice pronounced “choc-o-lat.”

She unwrapped her Tootsie Pop, then stopped. She peeked at the side of the box: sixty calories and zero fat grams.

If she didn’t bite into it, the lollipop lasted a long time. She could eat three a day instead of lunch and still be way under on calories. Plus, no one would give her a hard time if they saw her eating candy.

Melissa was famished. She popped the sucker in her mouth.

A
few days later, Melissa slammed her books on the kitchen counter. “A C! How could Mr. Dougherty have given me a C?” Her insides felt shaky, like when her hand held the electric mixer too long.

She flipped through her Chemistry test again. She didn’t agree with some of the tricky wording on a few true-or-false questions, and she’d floundered on one of the essays. But a C just didn’t seem right. It wasn’t fair. She had never gotten a C before in her life—on anything.

Melissa opened the pantry: chips, Twinkies, cheese crackers. “Translation: fat, fat, fat,” she murmured. She couldn’t bring herself to eat any of it. She turned and opened the fridge: leftover bacon,
grease
, a slice of cheesecake,
calories, lots of calories. But I want something sweet or maybe crunchy. I need something!