Skinny (9 page)

“Thanks, Nikki,” Mom said. “Come on, Mel, we’d better go.”

Melissa planned on telling her mom about Beau in the car, but Mom started asking about who was at the slumber party and what they ate and what movie they watched and how late they stayed up. Before Melissa knew it they were at the church, and she was climbing out of the car.

“Have fun, sweetie,” Mom called. “Make sure you eat your donut. You’re going to need some energy.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Melissa still felt groggy as she pushed the heavy metal bar to open the rear door leading into the gymnasium. Her eyes felt like they had cotton balls in them, fuzzy and light. She tossed the donut in the large trash barrel by the entrance.

Everyone at practice seemed lethargic. Todd wasn’t even dressed for dancing. Instead he wore baggy jeans, a sweatshirt, and a black knit ski hat. He held a Styrofoam cup, stark white against his brown hands. He tapped the rhythm to the music for their routine with his gym shoe and called out the moves while sipping his steaming espresso.

“And turn, turn, turn, turn, jump, and snap.”

Melissa turned and turned, hands up, hands down, now to the side. She saw a rainbow as the colors in the gym blurred together. White ovals rimmed in pink and blue blurred her vision.

SMACK!

Her head hit hard against the gym floor. She felt the cold wood, but her forehead, nose, and chin felt hot, like they were melting into the floor.

“Melissa, are you okay?” Stacey rushed to her side.

Her face felt like it had been hit with a meat cleaver.

“Everyone stop!” Todd called. He ran to Melissa and rolled her onto her back. Bright lights flashed in her darkness. She scrunched her closed eyes tighter in pain.

“She forgot to spot,” Jill jeered.

Melissa felt like a loser, falling flat on her face—literally. She might as well quit. She felt like she was eight years old. She just wanted to run to her mom’s lap and bury her face in Mom’s shoulder.

“Melissa?”

She opened her eyes to slits, and Todd wove into focus.

“I’m okay. Just clumsy,” she mumbled.

He cradled her head in his surprisingly rough hands and helped her stand. She wobbled, then steadied.

“Sugar, did you eat anything this morning?” Todd asked sweetly.

She wanted to say yes. She couldn’t let anybody know about her secret diet. Keeping it to herself was part of how she controlled it. No one could make her change what she ate if they didn’t know how she was eating. But could she lie to Todd?

“A little,” she mumbled.

“I was afraid y’all would do that. Ladies, gather around.”

The team had already formed a group around Melissa.

“I know we’re meeting early, but you need to eat a real breakfast before you come.” Todd still steadied Melissa with one warm hand on her back and another on her bare arm. “I’m working you hard, and your bodies are tired. They need fuel. A car can’t drive without gas, and y’all can’t dance without food. Everyone got it?”

Everyone nodded and mumbled yeses.

“Okay, now who has something in her bag that Melissa can eat?”

“I do,” said Katie. She bounded to her gym bag and back. “It’s a granola bar. It’s been in there awhile, so it may be a little mushed.” She handed it to Melissa.

“Thanks.” Melissa smiled.

“Now go sit on the bleachers and eat, girl. After the room quits spinning, you can join us.” Todd nodded toward the bleachers. “J. T., give her a hand.”

J. T. wrapped her freckled arm around Melissa’s back. “Come on,” she whispered. “You’ll be okay.”

As the music boomed and her teammates swirled and kicked in front of her, Melissa faced the granola bar. She knew she had to eat it. Todd was watching. She peeled the silver wrapper back to reveal the coagulated mass of oats and chocolate chips. It had more fat and calories than a plain blueberry bagel but less than a donut. She pulled a corner off and popped it in her mouth. It felt mealy. She struggled to chew. Around and around the gym went her friends and rivals. Around and around in her mouth went the same bite of granola bar.

When the bite finally dissolved, Melissa tried another bite, but that’s all she could do. She still felt nauseous from last night. She stood up. Feeling more stable, she walked slowly toward the drinking fountain, testing her strength and stability. The cold water felt sharp and lively in her mouth.

Dear God, please help me do this. I have to be able to do this. I promise I’ll do my best. I know I was stupid. I’m sorry I threw up. From now on I’ll eat the right things in the first place. If I had just avoided all that junk food, it never would have happened. I know You have reasons for things. You must have a reason for Beau. I just don’t know what it is. Please help me through this. I promise to be good. Amen.

Melissa found her place on the floor, thrust her arms upward, and leaned left. She made it through practice, but barely. Her moves were correct but not precise. She kicked when she was supposed to, but not as high as usual—not as high as Stacey. She pasted a smile on her face and kept moving.

Clap. Clap.

Todd signaled for their attention. “That’s it . . . for today. See y’all Monday after school with the rest of the team.” He took one last swig of his coffee and tossed the empty cup in the trash can. “Enjoy your day, ladies.”

Melissa felt completely drained. She couldn’t get out of the gym fast enough. Todd didn’t make a big deal about her fainting, but she was sure all the girls would. They wouldn’t mean it in a bad way. They would want to make sure she was okay and would want to know how it happened. They would want to make sure they wouldn’t faint too. She couldn’t stand the questions or the looks of pity in their eyes.

She dashed to the parking lot and exhaled in relief when she saw Mom waiting in the van. She opened the car door and plopped inside. Tears sprang from her eyes before she could buckle herself in.

“Melissa, what is it, honey?” Mom asked, placing her hand over Melissa’s trembling one.

Melissa couldn’t get a sentence out. “Practice . . . I was so crummy . . . and Beau . . . my friends.” Sobs tangled her words.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Mom handed her a Kleenex.

M
om turned at the black sign shaped like a coffee mug and pulled into the Morning Brew parking lot. “How about some cinnamon tea?”

Melissa felt so empty and cold. Tea sounded wonderful. Maybe it would warm her insides back to normal.

She nodded and managed a tiny grin. The grin allowed her to catch her breath enough to stop sobbing. She exaggeratedly inhaled through her nose and blew air out her mouth, puffing her cheeks.

Inside the coffee shop Mom opted for a cozy booth in the back. Melissa felt safe here, protected from the whirling madness that had become her life.

“Okay, kiddo.” Mom looked serious. “You can run, but you can’t hide. Time to tell Mom what’s going on.”

Melissa’s eyes welled up again. She wrapped her fingers around her mug, allowing the warmth to seep into her hands. She closed her eyes. The scent of cinnamon filled her nose, and the spicy taste of tea tickled her tongue. She wanted to tell Mom everything, but she didn’t dare.

“It’s everything,” she managed, still gripping her teacup. “It’s Beau. He broke up with me.”

“Oh, honey!”

“It was stupid, really. Some blah, blah, blah about how much he liked me, blah, blah. I don’t know.” Melissa tucked some loose hairs behind her ears.

“Help me out.” Mom’s eyebrows slanted in. “Fill in the ‘blah, blahs’ so I can understand.”

“I don’t even get it, Mom. Plus, Valentine’s is coming up, and we were supposed to go to that concert. You get the picture.” The tickets. Now they wouldn’t even go. Some Christmas present, and after all that deliberating! Melissa wondered if Beau would take someone else. More tears sprinkled her cheeks.

Mom sipped her tea, nodding.

“I know you really like him. Are you sure he doesn’t still like you?”

Melissa nodded.

“What else, sweetie? You said your friends and dance aren’t going well either.”

“Well, I tripped over my own clumsy feet and fell flat at practice today. I am so not captain material. I guess I’m not supposed to be an officer, but it’s okay. I mean, I still get to be on the squad next year, and being on the team takes less time than being an officer, so it’s okay, really.” She talked to her teacup, not daring to look into Mom’s eyes.

“And my friends, they’re really great. They really are. I mean, we had so much fun at Raven’s last night. She’s really sweet, and Lindsey’s hilarious. She gave me a makeover. You should have seen me all goopy and curly.” Melissa patted her hair and fluttered her eyelashes.

“Okay,” Mom said, probing for more.

How did Mom always sense when she wasn’t telling the whole story?

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel like I can talk to them about things. I mean, Gracie I can. She’s the best. But the rest of them don’t have boyfriends, and they just get all giddy about Beau and movie stars. They are so fun, really, but I have all this stuff inside of me, and they don’t know me that well, and I don’t want them to think . . .” She slurped her tea and didn’t say anything more.

“You do have a best friend who will always listen to you and who will never laugh at you or judge you.” Mom put down her cup on the wooden table.

Melissa knew Mom had good intentions, but there were still things she couldn’t share with her. How could she explain to her own mother how her knees felt like pudding when Beau kissed her? Mom would absolutely freak if she knew about the dieting—especially the throwing up thing. Mom would probably send her into counseling. She was always talking about people who needed counselors!

“I know you’ll always listen, Mom. Thanks.” Melissa smiled.

“I don’t mean me, honey. I’m always here, but some things are even hard to tell your mom. I mean Jesus. He’ll always understand.”

Melissa knew that. She’d heard those words a thousand times. “Jesus is your friend. Jesus loves you.” But she didn’t think Jesus would be very happy with her purging or getting worked up over a boy. She drank some more tea. Her tummy growled so loudly it sounded like a blender on full speed. Her eyes widened with embarrassment.

“I thought all you girls did at slumber parties was eat!” Mom laughed. “I guess you didn’t get enough. What would you like?”

Melissa ogled the glass case by the counter filled with decadent pastries oozing with jellies and creams. To the side she saw neatly stacked piles—bagels!

“A blueberry bagel would be great!” She was so excited to see her reliable standby. It was as if everything was going to be okay, simply because of a bagel in a neat stack.

/    /    /

O
nce home, Melissa used every ounce of energy to trudge upstairs to shower and get dressed for the day. She was exhausted! She pulled open her top drawer and saw the picture of Beau and her at the Sugar Plum Stomp in the Lucite frame she had paint-penned hearts on. Melissa turned it over so she couldn’t see his face, then lifted it back up and kissed the smooth, flat surface. Her eyes stung. She laid the picture back down and shook her head, as if trying to shake Beau and the pain out of her heart.

Her spiral notebook sat on top of her dresser. She opened it and began to pen an hour-by-hour schedule for her day.

10:00–11:00: Shower, get dressed

11:00–12:00: Read French articles

12:00–1:00: Eat lunch—1/2 turkey and tomato sandwich, 1 apple, and water

1:00–2:00: Call Gracie and explain the Beau thing (If she’s not home, call Lindsey or Raven to get scoop on what happened this morning after I left.)

Melissa planned each moment until bedtime and turned the page. The next page she titled “Sunday” in swirly letters and began a new schedule from waking to church to studying. Melissa felt more in control now. She had a plan. She looked at her clock: 10:18! She’d better get moving if she was going to be completely ready by eleven to read over her French.

French . . . Beau . . . French.

“No! I will not let him do this to me. I am good at French.” Melissa’s mind drifted to crowded cafés and couples throwing their heads back in laughter as she meandered to the shower.

Melissa made it through Saturday and Sunday. She plodded through each hour as she had planned it in her notebook, getting great satisfaction by checking off each activity as she completed it. She studied and practiced dance. She went to church and helped around the house. She felt as if she were in slow motion, but when she completed one activity, she knew exactly what to do next. This gave her little time to dwell on falling at rehearsal, throwing up at Raven’s, or even Beau.

She picked at her food, but Mom must have equated that with the breakup and didn’t even ask her to finish her veggies at dinner. Melissa had only cried twice since telling her mom.

The first was when she told Gracie the story about what Beau said in the parking lot. Gracie cancelled her plans with her boyfriend, Drew, and invited Melissa over Saturday night. They watched a silly movie that almost made Melissa forget. Almost.

The other time she cried was Sunday night before bed. Melissa climbed under her covers and turned out the light. She had been busy all day long, but then she was alone. There weren’t any more things on her to-do list. There wasn’t anything left to distract her. Even her Bible reading didn’t console her. She couldn’t find anything in the black print that applied to her. She sobbed and sobbed until her eyes couldn’t make any more tears. She lay in the dark, shaking, until she fell asleep.

M
elissa scuffled into her bathroom and hopped on the scale. She hopped back off onto the cold linoleum. The red digital numbers didn’t display what she’d hoped after a weekend of starving herself. She turned on the shower to warm up the water and went to the bathroom. She squeezed toothpaste onto her toothbrush and lifted her brush to her teeth. “Wait!” she reminded herself. “I don’t want to weigh in those toothpaste calories.” She pulled off her pajamas and stepped back on the scale. She had lost two pounds in pee and pajamas.