Faded Denim: Color Me Trapped (25 page)

Way too many questions race around in circles through my head until I am seriously dizzy. I feel like Dorothy in
The Wizard of Oz
, trapped inside the little farmhouse that’s being spun by the tornado. Only I’m trapped in this purple metal cubicle that’s whirling around and around, as my entire life spins totally out of control.

M
ELODY
C
ARLSON
has written more than one hundred books for all age groups, but she particularly enjoys writing for teens. Perhaps this is because her own teen years remain so vivid in her memory. After claiming to be an atheist at the ripe old age of twelve, she later surrendered her heart to Jesus and has been following him ever since. Her hope and prayer for all her readers is that each one would be touched by God in a special way through her stories. For more information, please visit Melody’s website at
www.melodycarlson.com
.

Laura L. Smith

M
elissa posed as perfectly as a marble statue. Her head was bent at a forty-five degree angle, her fingers were spread equidistantly, rigid, and exactly in line with her thighs. The music pulsed in her veins. She inhaled and silently counted along with Todd.

“Five, six, seven, eight.” Even though he was only five foot five, Todd had a booming voice that commanded the attention of every girl in the room. The rhythm of the music vibrated from the speakers on the church’s glossy gymnasium floor.

Like a marionette brought to life by invisible strings, Melissa jerked her hands up, forming a V with her arms, snapped her head upright, and flashed a radiant smile.

“And turn, six, seven, eight. Lift and lift and slide and slide,” Todd continued like a metronome. The pulsating beat pulled Melissa’s body back and forth.

Abruptly, Todd’s solid muscular body relaxed. The coach turned his back to the group of girls and padded across the wooden floor to turn off the CD. Since dance team was somewhere low on the priority list of varsity sports at Spring Hill High, they were allotted zero gymnasium time for practices. The school’s gym was designated for the football players, the basketball players, the track team, and the softball team, but not the dance team. Luckily, the church Melissa’s family attended allowed the girls to practice in their gym.

“Okay, any questions? No? Good. Then let’s continue.” Todd’s dark skin shone with perspiration as he flawlessly demonstrated the next sequence. Tiny yellow beads woven into the ends of his cornrows bounced lightly against his strong bare shoulders, bulging from his gray tank top. His compact body moved effortlessly across the floor while his chocolate eyes kept constant contact with the team.

Melissa replayed his every move in her head, trying to make his motions and words translate into her body’s executing the dance correctly.

Feet pounded the floor. Arms stretched to the ceiling. Hips swayed.

Melissa turned to the left.

Everyone else turned to the right.

Melissa missed bumping into Jill by a fraction of an inch. Jill was a junior who could kick higher than the rest of the team and had an attitude to match. Jill’s flawless pale skin and sleek black hair were reminiscent of Snow White, but Jill certainly didn’t act like a fairy-tale princess. Jill shot Melissa a glare from her bright green eyes that could have come from an evil stepmother.

Flames of shame pinched Melissa’s nose and ears. She caught her breath and stumbled to get back in step. How many of the others had seen her mess up? The other girls looked so pretty, so thin, so together. Melissa felt large and conspicuous, like an elephant stomping across the gym.
Feel the music
, she told herself.

“Okay. That’s all for today,” Todd said between gulps of bottled water. “Not bad, but we have a lot to learn, ladies. We perform in two days.” Todd wiped drops of water from his manicured mustache.

“Oh, and, girls, no cake between now and Friday. You want to look spectacular in your uniforms.” He winked.

Sweat slid down Melissa’s forehead and stung her eyes. She tried to shrink inside her T-shirt. She darted for her dance bag, grabbed it, and walked as fast as she could until she was safe behind the girls’ room door. Protected by the wooden barrier, she pulled on her sweatshirt and yoga pants and exhaled.

Finally her cumbersome body, the one that had turned the wrong way, the one Todd was clearly making the cake comment about, was covered. Tears threatened to escape from her eyes. Melissa waved her hand in front of her face in an attempt to fan her embarrassment and anger away. She peered into the full-length mirror and groaned at her reflection.

Melissa slid into a stall and shut the door. She’d read in magazines about girls who threw up to lose weight. Melissa had thought about doing it before but never had the guts. How exactly should she do it? How would she position her body?

Melissa knelt in front of the white toilet. Thankfully, her yoga pants provided a thin barrier between her knees and the germs and sludge on the once-white tiled floor. The stench of urine almost made her gag. She wouldn’t need to do much. Looking down at her hand, Melissa stuck out her index and middle fingers, ready to plunge them down her throat. Those two fingers could empty her of this feeling.

Squeak!
The bathroom door swung open.

“Mel, is that you?” Lindsey asked.

“Uh-huh.” Melissa’s face was blasted with heat like when she opened the oven door. She tried to stand and turn as silently as possible, then swung open the door.

“Do you think there’s any way I’ll get this routine down by Friday night?” Lindsey rolled her eyes and smiled. The girls had met only about three months ago when they both made the Spring Hill High dance team. They had gone to different grade schools
but had bonded immediately. They were inseparable at practice.

Lindsey was Melissa’s physical opposite: five one and so tiny she could still buy her clothes from the kids’ department. Her blonde curls framed her pretty face and her pale blue eyes, which sparkled when she spoke. She looked like one of Melissa’s dolls she had dressed and fed when she was younger.

Melissa was five nine. She usually wore her straight dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail revealing her round face, forest green eyes, and the freckles that spotted her nose. Friends told her she was slender, but she described herself as “medium-sized.”

“You’ll get it, Linds. You’re basically awesome.”

“Hardly. I’m lucky to have even made this team.” Lindsey pushed open the restroom door with her back.

“Right,” Melissa began. “I was the one who almost fell flat on my face. Todd moves so fast.”

Just then, Jill sauntered through the door as if Lindsey were opening it for her.

“Nice turns.” She nodded toward Melissa.

“Nice makeup,” Lindsey whispered when they were out of earshot in the hallway, commenting on Jill’s overdone face. Lindsey looked around to make sure no one was listening, then gave Melissa a silent high five and whispered, “I don’t care what Jill thinks. We rock.”

Melissa tried to imitate Lindsey’s confidence, but she was still humiliated by her misstep, and her hands shook from almost being caught in the bathroom.
Rock
was not a word to describe her, unless, of course, it was the round, heavy kind.