Measuring Up (19 page)

“You’re way too strong to let her drag you under, Annabel Lee. You have to know that.”

Tegan’s right. To a degree at least. And even though I know he can’t always be here, he’s here now and I intend to take advantage of that. To ride his waves, and hope that later I’m able to stand up on the surfboard without him. “I’m trying to be. I want to be.” How he manages to pull such truth out of me, so much feeling, I don’t know, but it feels good not to hide. To step out from my secret hiding place and say,
“Here I am! Look at me! This is how I feel
” even if it means getting tagged “it”.

“Sometimes I think I’m stronger than I am and other times, I know my weaknesses. It’s hard to find that middle groun
d. To accept my weaknesses without embracing them as a part of me I can never change.
” My words are even confusing me. It makes sense in my head, but not out loud. “Do you know what I mean or do I just sound like a psycho?”

“Well… maybe not psych-ward crazy, but a little confusing.”

I can’t believe it, but I almost smile.
“How do you always know the right thing to say?”

Tegan’s thumb makes feather-soft circles on my cheek and I lean into him. “I don’t. Half the time I’m scared as
hell I’m saying the dumbest shit
in the world.” More softness. More circles. “You know, it might come as a surprise to you, but I’m not always as sure as I like to come off. I have a lot of stuff I’m trying to work through too.”

“I know…” I remember how he looked at Bo and Ricks words tonight. Knowing his dad left and all he does to try and hold his family together. Yes, Tegan is a little broken like me.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“I think I need to.”

“K. Hold up a sec.” Tegan gets out of the car, comes around opens my door for me. I think we’re going to go outside, but he pulls me in the backseat with him. His arm comes around me and I let my back rest against the side of his chest. Even though it’s warm, even with the windows down, Tegan’s heat is welcoming.

“I feel stupid even talking about it. I mean, people get teased all the time.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt any less for the person on the receiving end.”

Like always, he’s right. “You know how it goes. There’s always someone at school who gets it. We’ve talked about it before. How shitty school is.”

It’s hard talking about this and keeping my emotions out of it. I want to, I need to, but then I don’t, do I? I should be able to share this with Tegan.

I nuzzle closer to him. In return, he squeezes me tighter. “On the last day of school last year, I knew something was up. Everyone was staring at me more than usual. Snickers, laughs, pointing. Em noticed it too, but we tried to blow it off. I mean, we didn’t usually care what people thought about us.

“About halfway through the day, I started hearing little comments.
Fat Girl in Love
. Little digs about how stupid I was. How delusional I was. I seriously had no idea what was happening.”

My eyes are watering now. Tears are dripping down my face, rolling down my neck. Tegan reaches over and catches them.

“So it’s the end of the day.
We’re in the commons. Everyone’
s there, all hyped up because school’s out for the summer. Tha
t’s when this guy—Billy Mason—
comes up to me and shoves a letter in my hand. I swear, I think the whole school was around us, Tegan. I felt
everyone’s
eyes on me while I read it.”

I take a few breaths, forcing myself to continue. “It was a love letter. A love
letter from me that I
didn’t write. It was made out to Billy. Everyone had a copy. They were all holding them,
reading and laughing at all the things they thought I said to Billy. We worked together for our final in English so whoever wrote it t
ook the idea from that. It spelled
out how I fell in love with him while working with him, how gorgeous I thought he was. How nice he was to me.”

I try to pull away, needing a little space, but he holds me tighter. That’s when I realize I don’t need the space after all. I need him.

“Needless to say, I denied
it. A
lso needless to say, Billy played
it up. How he just felt bad for the fat girl and he didn’t mean for me to fall in love with him. That he gets it—how a girl like me would want to think there could be something between us, but I’m not his type. How I’m such a nice girl, but he likes his girls with a little less meat on their bones. Everyone loved that one.”

I shake my head. “The more I denied it, the more they seemed to think it was real. He kept telling me I didn’t have to be in denial. They all saw the letter, crap like that. It was so embarrassing, Tegan. I hated him, but I hated me too.”

“No.” He pulls away so we can look at each other. “You have nothing to hate yourself about. That’s bullshit, Annabel Lee. He’s the jerk. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“There’s the part of me that knows it, but it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

More tears are coming. Tegan pulls me against him and I cry into his chest. It feels good leaning on him. Having him here for me. Trusting him in a way I’ve never done with anyone. When all the tears are gone, he tilts my head up and places a soft kiss to my lips.

“First of all, Billy would be honored to have you love him. I have to admit, I’m pretty stoked you don’t. Makes me luckier because you’re mine.”

This time I really do smile.

“Second, I’m sorry that happened to you. High school sucks. It won’t be like that in college. Only three more semesters for you and you’ll be done.”

Another kiss.

“And third, I’m totally going to kick Billy’s ass if I ever see him.”

I know he’s only saying that to make me feel better, and it works. I do.

“I guess it’s my turn now…
you know, the whole opening up thing…”

There’s something about his voice, I can tell he doesn’t want to. That he’s not ready yet, so I try to lighten the moment the way he always does for me. “Or… we can jus
t make-out instead. Unless—
”

My words are cut off by his lips. I’m guessing he’d rather make-out.

Chapter Seventeen

BUSTED

It’s been two weeks since my little confession to Tegan and I haven’t regretted it once. I feel like I’ve cleared the air and I’m one step closer to becoming the person who doesn’t need to run. Who would have told Pammie where she could stuff it when she brought my weight into it.

The cool part? It h
as nothing to do with the twelve
freaking pounds I’ve lost since the beginning of the s
ummer. Yep, that’s right, twelve
. There’s a part of me who wishes
I could have dropped more, who
feels like I’m losing weight slower than a grandma drives, but from everything I’ve read,
that’s the way to do it.
That’s what Tegan says. If you drop it too quickly, you’ll gain it
back, I’m building lean muscle
. Yada, yada. I’m not going to lie, I kind of tune out some of that stuff. I’m trying to focus on the part of m
e that realizes I’ve lost twelve
freaking pounds and that’s pretty kick butt if you ask me.

Eighteen
more and I’ll be at my target. One thirty-five. A number I haven’t seen for years. One that Mom would probably hire a trainer if she ever hit, but for me, it’s perfect.

I’m leaning against a pole while Tegan’s doing his round of biceps. We rotate now, him and me, working out togeth
er. It’s like a partnership
and I love it. The view isn’t so bad either.

“What are you smiling at over there?” He lets go of the bar.

“You.”

“Because I’m so hot?”

“Because you’re not a grunter.”

One of Tegan’s eyebrows rises. “Aw, you’re so sweet. Wait till I tell the guys my girl doesn’t think I’m a grunter.”

I snap him with my towel. “Shut up. I mean, some of the guys in here are all loud and grunt when they lift. I think they do it so people look at them, wh
ich I don’t understand, but I’
d wondered about you. If you’d be a grunter and now I know you’re not.”

He shakes his head. “You’re so weird, but I still love you.”

Defibrillator anyone? Jumper cables? I’ll go for anything to help jump start my heart right now. Does he mean
love
me, love me or is it just one of those passing comment things? Passing comment. It has to be, but all of a sudden, it’s really hot in here. I’m feeling a little dizzy like I have a bad case of heat stroke. What if he means it? Does he really love me? I mean, we’re young. He starts college in September and though it’s local and I plan to be there in a year, would it be smart to go falling in love right now?

“Breathe, Annabel Lee.” Tegan stand ups, snickering and then leans close to my ear. Will he say it again? Am I supposed to say it back? Gah, Holy heart attack in the making. Closer he comes and my nerves are seizing.

“Come on. We still have abs to do and then I have to clock in.”

Did I mention I really want to know if he really loves me? Because I’m kind of scared that I’m more than halfway in love with him.

***

I spoon steamed vegetables onto my plate, cut the piece of chicken in half because it’s huge and I don’t need that much anymore, and add a small amount of red potatoes. It’s a healthy meal, none of it fried or anything, not that Mom’s ever been big on frying, but I know just by eating less, I’m doing something good for myself. The part that rocks even more is that I’m full after this amount of food. I don’t understand why I ever thought I needed more than this.

Mom’s late to the table, coming in after my and Dad’s plates are made. Surprisingly, there’s no phone with her. Instead she’s looking at Dad and he’s looking back at her and I know something’s up.

“What’s wrong?” All sorts of thoughts are going through my head. Divorce, sickness. I choose to ignore the fact that I automatically go to worst case scenarios.

“I ran into Emily today.” Mom’s voice is tight, angry.

“What happened? Is she okay?”

It’s Dad who replies. “Pumpkin, she said she hasn’t seen much of you lately. Your mother commented about your staying out with her a couple times and asked about the movies, but she had no idea what she was talking about.”

Holy crap. Leave it to me to finally get a life and get caught
lying about it
.

“Of course she tried to cover, but the damage was done. What have you been doing, Annabel?” Mom doesn’t sound nearly as understanding as dad.

“I…”

“Why were you lying? Are you on drugs? You’re leaving the house early every morning, and you look thinner. Are you on something?”

It’s sad that a little part of me does a cheer that she noticed. It’s like a compliment she’s issued even though she’s accusing me of doing drugs to lose weight at the same time. But she’s noticed and it feels better than it should.

“Drugs, Paulette? You can’t be serious.”

“You always defend her! Always try and make me the bad guy.”

I want to plug my ears so I don’t hear their fighting. It’s me. Always about me. “Of course I’m not on drugs!” The only reason I raise my voice is so they’ll hear me.

“Then who are you with? Why have you lied about where you are?” Then, a light bulb goes off in Mom’s eyes and I realize she knows. This shouldn’t bother me, but it does. They’ll burst mine and Tegan’s bubble. Both him and what I’m doing won’t be mine anymore. It will be theirs to dissect and question me about.

To my surprise, she then shakes her head. “No, it couldn’t be a boy.”

Pain pierces my chest. My eyes sting. Anger and hurt wrestle inside me. My heart jumps when Dad’s hands come down on the table, shaking the glasses.

“You always do this to her. Why can’t it be a boy? Because she’s not you? Because she doesn’t spend three hours with her face in the mirror every day?”

Mom pushes to her feet. “I always do this to her? You always do this to me. You’re always putting words in my mouth so you’re her savior and I’m the witch. I only meant that she wouldn’t keep a boy from me. That’s something a daughter shares with her mom.”

I don’t even have it in
me to feel guilty. I can’t believe she thinks I would share it with her. We never talk about anything that matters.

“So you think she’d be on drugs before she might keep something from you? Hell, Paulette, all she did is lie about where she was. All teenagers do it.”

Back and forth they yell about me. Fight about me. They think they know who I am. What I do. What’s best for me. Their voices are an echo, a muffled echo beating against my brain until I can’t take it anymore. I’m pushing to my feet. My chair falls backward on the floor. “Enough! I can’t do this! Stop fighting about me like I’m not here!”

It hurts to breathe, to talk, but I keep going. “I joined a gym and got a trainer because I’m tired of being fat. He’s the only person who lets me be me. Who isn’t telling me what I need
to do, offering me makeovers,
de
fending me, or trying to fix me—
which is funny since he started out as my trainer. But it has always been about what I want and now he’s my boyfriend and that’s who I’m with every day. And I lied so I could avoid
this
!”