Part 20 (2/2)

It was in the way his fingers played music along the keyboard of her hand.

In the way he kept his mouth shut just as long as he could. Even when Dad got right up spit-close in his face, Andre kept hold of his temper. Some people might have interpreted it as not having a spine, but I could tell it was for Jenna. And despite the awful way she set him up, he offered her the out. To go or stay, her choice. Yep, he's definitely got a major thing for her. Poor guy.

One Thing I Have To Respect About Jenna is she does not apologize for who she is or the things she does.

In that way, she takes after our father.

I am more like Mom, saying I'm sorry for everything, even when I don't mean it. The one thing I refuse to apologize for is my weight. Do you know what kind of damage an eating disorder can do to your body? b.i.t.c.h. I do not have an eating disorder. I know exactly what I eat and exactly how to burn it off. That sounds like order to me, not disorder.

You're too thin. Says who? Not Xavier.

Not the big photogs. Not even my mom.

My real mom. Not some phony wannabe.

I will be here for you. Yeah, right.

Not like I want her to be. Definitely not like I asked her to be. She means nothing to me. Why should I mean anything to her?

Glad I didn't mention the rhinoplasty.

I'm sure she would have had something to say about that, too. It's scheduled for Monday. I'm getting a little nervous.

Andre's mom has been very sweet.

Don't worry. I've performed hundreds, with very few complications. You'll be just fine. You don't smoke, do you?

Didn't think so, but needed to make sure. Smoking increases the risk of bleeding. Alcohol, too. I can tell you don't drink. You're much too slender.

Slender. Not thin or skinny. Or anorexic.

I'm Online Reading real-life nose job stories when I get an instant message from Bobby. HEY. ARE YOU ON FACEBOOK? GET THAT WAY. CHECK OUT SEAN'S PAGE.

Bobby hardly ever IMs me. RIGHT NOW!

Something's definitely up. Oh, wow.

I can't believe Cara broke up with Sean.

Neither can half the senior cla.s.s. Glad I'm not her. They're chopping her into little pieces: ... IS A s.l.u.t ANYWAY ...ALWAYS WAS FULL OF IT ...NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU And now: ...SERIOUS COMMITMENT ISSUES YEAH, MUST RUN IN THE FAMILY.

That last one from Aubree. Obviously referring to Conner and me. People really should mind their own business.

Except, of course, Sean made it pretty much everyone's business. Before I become an obvious topic of conversation, however, I think I'll speak up and let them know I'm lurking here. HEY, SEAN, I type. SORRY TO HEAR ABOUT YOU AND CARA. CALL ME IF YOU NEED TO TALK, OKAY?.

I sign off. Get the heck out of there before I see any more comments I can't stomach. For some stupid reason, now I feel hungry. Freaking stress. A small shot of sugar should do the trick. One Jolly Rancher. Watermelon. Twenty-three point three calories. If I go for a bike ride, I can treat myself to three. Game on.

Closing In On April, less than a week away, winter wants to hang on this year. Late afternoon, it will be cold once the sun nose-dives behind the mountain. Glad I wore sweats, even though they make me look like Blimp Girl. I'll ride back roads. Tires pumped up, I start on flat ground. Have to warm up a little before heading uphill. It's been a while since I pedaled anything, and even in high gear, my legs start to burn fairly quickly. I like the burn, like the way my muscles feel when they contract. I should do this more.

The last time I went bike riding was with Conner. It was summer, and his tanned legs were sensational to watch, pumping pedals.

The morning was hot, and once in a while he would pour water over his head. His long hair dripped, catching sun, creating a halo.

G.o.d, I loved him so much, and the memory is a new razor blade. Too sharp to feel its slice.

Flat streets segue to a mild incline. I bear down on the pedals. My breathing shallows.

Pant. Pant. I think of Conner again, how we stopped our bikes beneath the big trees at the park. Walked them into the heart of the woods, rested them against old pines, nestled ourselves into the thick needle bed.

The breeze stirred gently, scenting the air with superheated evergreen. Conner pushed me back into the cus.h.i.+oned earth, and when he kissed me, it stole my breath away. Like now. Pant. Pant. We panted then. Together.

The Hill Grows Steeper And the memory grows deeper with every breath I pull into my lungs.

For the first time ever, the love we made was unhurried. It's good slow, he said. Do you like it this way? I did but wondered just when he'd decided that, and how. Still, I didn't dare ask him. Instead I just let him. And when he finished, he stayed very close to me, tracing one finger in circles on my skin.

Don't lose any more weight, he said.

Don't you want to look like a woman?

That surprised me too. ”I thought you'd like me better this way.”

He shook his head, rustling the needles.

Don't believe the hype. Curves are hot.

To The West The sun hides behind shadowed granite cliffs. But despite the noticeable drop in temperature, sweat soaks into the fleece beneath my arms, and my hair dampens.

Suddenly I am starving, every calorie taken in today completely expended.

My heart quakes, stuttering in my chest.

Time to turn around. Head home. Downhill.

As I swing the bike across the yellow line, I feel my face go white, as if the saw-slice of memory has opened my head, let blood.

My stomach, empty, heaves nothingness.

I begin to s.h.i.+ver. My arms start to shake and I lose control of the handlebars.

Buzzing. Horrible buzzing. My hands grab for the brakes. Too late. I'm falling...

Through The Fog Fog? Where did that come from? No matter, it's here, and the only thing that makes it lift is pain. Jolts of pain.

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