Faded Denim: Color Me Trapped (5 page)

T
HIS FEELS LIKE THE LONGEST WEEK OF MY LIFE, AND IT’S ONLY
W
EDNESDAY
. The thing is, it’s prom week and I’m trying to keep up this little act I’ve created, like I’m all happy and fine with the fact that my best friend is going to the prom (with my secret crush) and I am
not
.

But when I see Leah rushing down the hall toward me with this totally devastated expression, I feel strangely thrilled. Okay, I hope no one has died. But I guess I wouldn’t be too sad if Brett dumped her just days before prom. I mean, I’d pretend to be sad, and I’d be totally sympathetic, but inside I’d be doing a little happy dance.

I’m really a rotten person.

“Emily!” she exclaims when we’re face-to-face. “The worst thing has happened!”

“What?” I say with what I hope looks like real concern in my eyes.

“It’s my dad!”

Okay, now I feel truly horrible. Has something happened to her dad? Oh, how could I be so selfish, so insensitive, so self-centered? “What is it?” I exclaim, grabbing her by the arm. “Is he hurt?”

“No . . . no.” She shakes her head. “Nothing like that. It’s just that he says I can’t go to AFI.”

I blink. “Oh.”

“I’m devastated, Emily. I have to go.”

Now my compassion kicks in. Maybe it’s because I’m so relieved that her dad is okay. “Oh, Leah, that’s too bad. I know how much you were looking forward to it. Why won’t he let you go? I mean, your aunt’s paying for it and everything. I’d think he’d want you to go.” What I don’t mention is how Leah’s dad usually gives her whatever she wants, not that she’s spoiled exactly. Maybe a little.

“He read some article about some totally lame modeling school where there was a sex scandal, and on top of that some girl got raped, and now’s he’s certain that will happen to me too.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. Dad has totally gone into hyperprotective mode. He’s put his foot down and nothing I say seems to change his mind.” Now she actually starts to cry. “I wanted this so bad, Em!”

I hug her as she cries. “I’m really sorry, Leah. I know you did. I wish there was something I could do.”

“I know it’s stupid to react like this,” she says as she steps back and wipes the tears from her cheeks, “but I just wanted it so bad.”

I shake my head. “Maybe you can do it next year,” I suggest. “After you graduate. You’ll be eighteen then.”

She frowns. “Eighteen is almost over the hill when it comes to modeling.”

“Oh.”

I try to console her during the rest of the day, but she is so gloomy that it’s a challenge. Finally, as she’s giving me a ride home, I remind her about prom. “At least you have that to look forward to.” Then I make a loud self-sacrificing sigh. “Not all of us are so lucky . . .”

She turns and looks at me. “Oh, I’m sorry, Em. I bet you think I’m really selfish. Are you feeling bad about not going to prom?
You’ve been so cheerful lately that I figured you really didn’t care.”

“Maybe I should become an actress.” I give her a big smile.

“Yeah. Maybe you should give me lessons.” Then she frowns again. “But seriously, I would give up prom to go to AFI.”

“You would?”

“In a heartbeat. I mean Brett is cool and stuff. But I don’t really know him that well and the thought of going with him makes me kinda nervous. We’re doubling with Kyle and Krista, you know. And, well, Krista thinks she’s all that. I’m just not sure . . .”

“You’ll be fine,” I assure her. But suddenly, given this perspective, I think I’m actually feeling relieved
not
to be going to prom. Life’s weird.

“Thanks,” she says. “And thanks for being there for me today. It helps.”

“Well, I’ll be praying for you,” I tell her. “Maybe God can change your dad’s mind if it’s really the right thing for you to go.” But even as I say this, I doubt it will happen. And, to be honest, I don’t think I even want it to happen. Not really.

Later that night, Leah calls. “I have the best news!” she practically shrieks into the phone. “You are not going to believe this.”

“Your dad changed his mind?” I ask, hoping that I’m wrong.

“Better.”

“You won the lottery?”

“No, silly. Listen to this. I told Aunt Cassie the bad news and she came up with a plan. And then she talked to Dad and he agreed. Can you believe it?”

“What’s the plan?” I ask with only mild interest.

“You’re coming with me!”

“Huh?” I sink down into the couch and try to take this in.

“Aunt Cassie is sponsoring you to go to AFI with me, Emily!
She’s paying your entire way. That way we can room together and take care of each other and — ”

“Hold on a minute,” I say quickly. “I am
not
model material, Leah. Or have you forgotten that?”

“I told Aunt Cassie that you weren’t feeling too good about yourself these days, and I even told her about our little swan project. But she said not to worry. She said the industry has become more open to using larger models, that there are magazines that specialize in big girls.”

“Big girls?” I want to scream now.

“Those were her words, Em, not mine. All she meant is that size doesn’t have to matter—especially just to go to modeling school. It’s not like you’re trying to get work or anything.”

“As a
big girl
, you mean?”

Leah laughs. “Forget about that. All she meant is that you should go. She thinks it will help you with your self-image. They teach about fashion and makeup and a bunch of other things too. In fact, this whole thing will go perfectly with our swan project. Please, tell me you’ll do this with me, Emily. It’s the only way my dad will let me go.”

“Why don’t you ask someone like Becca to go with you?” I suggest, feeling this strange sensation of going under, almost as if I were drowning.

“No way. Besides, my dad said you or no one. He totally trusts you, Emily. He knows your faith is strong and he keeps saying how mature you are.”

“Mature?” I repeat meekly, not knowing whether to be flattered or insulted.

“Yes. Dad said the only way I can go is if you agree to go with me. And you have to agree, Emily. You will go, won’t you?” Her
voice has the most pathetic, pleading sound to it. I almost expect her to remind me of how her mother died, of how close we’ve been all these years, of how she’s sacrificed for me in the past, of how she used to be the “fat” friend but never complained . . . but she is too good a friend to mention any of those things.

“Can I think about it?” I say.

“Of course. And I realize there’s your parents to deal with.”

“That’s right,” I say, hopeful again. I mean, I can pretty much predict that they would never agree to let me do something this crazy. Modeling school in Chicago? Yeah, you bet. “I do need to ask them.”

“And both Dad and Aunt Cassie can talk to them,” Leah assures me. “If they have questions or anything.”

“Okay.” I feel certain I have my way out now. “I’ll get back to you on this as soon as I talk to my parents.”

Just as I hang up, my mom comes into the living room. “Talk to your parents about what?” she asks as she sits down in the big leather recliner across from me. It used to be Dad’s chair, but more and more I find my mom sitting in it.

So I launch into Leah’s plan, making it sound as much like a harebrained scheme as I possibly can. But when I finish, Mom is looking thoughtful, like she’s actually considering it.

“What a great opportunity for you, Emily!” she finally exclaims.

“You mean you’d really let me go?” I ask, incredulous. “For two weeks? By ourselves? To go to modeling school?”

“Well, of course, we’d have to look into it carefully. And I’d want to talk to Leah’s aunt, although I’ve always thought that Cassie was a sensible woman, even if she does live in New York. But if everything is on the up and up, well, I think it would be wonderful for
you two girls to have this time together. Leah has so blossomed this year. And perhaps this will help you too, Emily. You do seem to lack confidence, but you’re such a pretty girl. Maybe the good Lord knows that this is just what you need to round out who you are becoming.”

Round out?
I stare at her. Does she not see how “rounded out” I actually am? Does she not realize that I will be a total misfit at AFI? The only fat girl with a bunch of stick people?

“Oh, I’m so excited for you,” she says happily. “This might be just the thing, Emily.” And off she goes to call Leah and get Aunt Cassie’s phone number. Great.

Okay, I’ll admit that I never even had a chance to pray for Leah’s dad to change his mind about AFI—although I had intended to do so—but I do begin to pray now. I pray that God will throw a big old wrench into the works and that my dad will totally put his proverbial foot down, and that my parents will play the tough-love card, deciding that modeling school and two unsupervised weeks in Chicago is definitely not the right thing for their little girl.

But within twenty-four hours, it all seems to be out of my hands. Both my parents have decided that this is a
divine
opportunity for me. And no one seems to care about what I think.

“It’s just what you need,” my dad says at dinner. I can tell he’s thinking about my weight as he watches me take a large helping of mashed potatoes. “It will help you on your way to becoming a lovely young lady, Emily.”

My little brother laughs and I narrow my eyes at him, wishing I could punch him, but my parents have a serious no-fighting-at-the-table rule.

“Leah’s aunt says that it will be sort of like finishing school,” Mom says as she passes me the butter.

“Finishing school?” I echo hopelessly.

“Yeah,” says Matt with a devilish look. “They’ll probably finish you right off.”

And for the first time, I think Matt might actually know what he’s talking about.

I
F
I
THOUGHT NOT GOING TO PROM WAS BAD, KNOWING THAT
I’
M GOING TO
modeling school is worse. Way worse. I have exactly seventeen days to get my act together. That means Project Swan has just switched to fast-forward. No more cheating on my diet or skipping my exercise routines, and I’ve been drinking so much water that I’m sure I’ll be growing fish scales before long. In fact, I’m thinking of taking up swimming, which means I’ll have to put on a swimsuit, and if that’s not desperate, nothing is. But at least the weather is nice, which means I might be able to soak up some sun (since my parents still refuse to let me go to a tanning salon), because I’ve heard that a good tan makes you look at least ten pounds lighter.

Leah keeps reminding me that I can’t expect miracles in this short amount of time. But I’m doing everything I can to get myself into some kind of shape before we get on the plane to Chicago. Because I’m tired of being humiliated. And I’m tired of being fat and ugly. I’m also tired of looking like Leah’s pathetic friend. In fact, I’m just plain tired.

By the time school is out, just two days before Chicago, I am totally dismayed when I hit the scales. After all my hard work and careful dieting, I have only lost three pounds.

“Three pounds!” exclaims Leah happily. “That’s great, Emily!”

“Great?” I frown at her. “I’ve been starving myself for a month and I’ve only lost three pounds!”

“A month?” She looks skeptical. “You already admitted that you cheated on the diet during the first week or so.”

“Okay, fine. But I have been faithfully doing it for almost three weeks.”

“Yeah, and you’ve lost three pounds.” She carefully studies me. “And I’ll bet you’ve lost a lot more in inches. Did you measure yourself like I told you to?”

I make a face at her. “I can only handle so much, okay? It’s bad enough weighing in every day. Wrapping a tape measure around my big fat thighs might push me over the edge.”

“Too bad.” She shakes her finger at me. “Because you’d probably be pleasantly surprised. I can see a difference.”

I frown as I stare into my reflection in the full-length mirror. I mean, sure, maybe I can see a little improvement, but for the most part, I look pretty much the same as I did a month ago. “Isn’t there anything we can do to help me before we go to Chicago?”