In Every Way (8 page)

After a week of working at Aiden Jane, I’m starting to feel a little guilty for getting paid. Sure, it makes me leave the house each day and takes away my free time, but it’s not actually work. I’m having a blast being here and I’d actually do it even if I wasn’t getting paid. Of course, I don’t tell Julie that, because the paychecks are nice. Plus, even though I don’t need money now, I’ll need it when college starts.

Today we’re reorganizing the baby wall, which is a small part of her shop that sells gifts and items for newborns. Since this is my last summer before college starts, I try being all proactive and pretend that decorating the store is similar to decorating my future classroom. After all, the goal is to make everything appealing to the customers, and in classrooms, you want the kids to be excited to be there as well.

This tactic only helps me forget a little bit about Josh. Okay, it doesn’t actually help me forget at all.

I’m thinking about him constantly.

What exactly did it mean, him following me out to the parking lot the other day? Asking to hang out again sometime?

It’s all just a joke, right? But it sure seemed like he was going out of his way just for a joke. The thing about guys is that they don’t like going out of their way for anything, except maybe sex or sports.

Of course, maybe he still felt bad for hitting me with a stray football, and as much as that theory makes me feel stupid, it’s probably the correct one.

Maddie calls me on Skype when I’m home from work. I answer it while lying in bed, so my face is all distorted and gross from the angle of holding my phone in the air above my pillow.

Luckily, I don’t have to impress Maddie by looking cute 24/7. That’s one good thing about friends compared to guys.

“What’s up?” I ask her. The reception is a little blurry, probably because she’s so far away and the signal has to bounce around on satellites or whatever. Maddie’s formerly bright pink hair is now back to golden brown, cut shoulder length in a bob that looks cute on her. I remember when she dyed it pink over Spring Break in our senior year. Everyone suddenly noticed her for the first time, and she got really popular. Of course, it also helped that she became the new step-daughter of this hella rich guy from Shady Heights, the neighborhood of mansions on the other side of town. I’m lucky I was friends with Maddie before her rise to popularity, otherwise I would have been left behind.

“Remember when you suddenly got all popular?” I ask her.

“You mean the day my life went from horrible to wonderful?” she asks with a blurry smile. “What about it?”

“Well, I suddenly have one person noticing me, and it’s kind of making me insane and turning me into someone who over analyzes every single detail. I don’t know how you did it with lots of people. I can’t even handle the attention of one guy.”

Maddie laughs. “Fake it till you make it. That’s my only advice.”

I roll my eyes. “Very helpful.”

She leans in, her face getting huge on my cell phone screen. “So who’s this guy suddenly giving you attention?

“What makes you think it’s a guy?” I shoot back so quickly it sounds like I’m being defensive.

She gives me this conspiratorial grin. “Because if it was a girl, you wouldn’t be freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” I say with a little shrug as I hold the phone up in front of my face. “And it’s just some guy who said we should hang out sometime while we’re both working. Weird, huh?”

“It’s not weird,” she says. “He just likes you.”

I snort so hard I almost drop the phone. “He definitely does not like me.”

But isn’t that what I’ve been daydreaming about all morning?

“Yes he does,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me.

“You don’t know anything about him,” I say, trying to prove my point. In reality, she
does
know him because he’s her boyfriend’s best friend. But I’m not about to tell her that because then she’ll confirm that there’s no way Josh Graham likes me. For now, it’s just fun to pretend that maybe there is a possibility for something truly amazing to happen to me.

I resist the urge to sigh. That’s my life. Floating through day by day on nothing but the daydream of possible amazing things.

***

I don’t bring healthy snacks to work today. I don’t bring anything. Losing weight only works if you stop eating junk. This morning I had an apple, and now I plan to work my butt off all day, moving and bending and lifting inventory as a form of working out. Then, for dinner I can have a salad. I would have gone all day without eating any calories, so my diet will be in kick starter mode. That’s the best part of having this job. If I were at home all summer, I’d be just a few feet away from the kitchen where all the snacks are. Now, at work, I’m stuck without the ability to eat food unless I leave. And I don’t plan on leaving.

Things are going really well by lunch time. I pretend that I’m not feeling very well and tell Julie I don’t feel like taking a lunch break. She takes her break and leaves me at the store, and I use the time alone to do squats and weight lifts with heavy boxes in the back room.

I’m feeling pumped. And awesome. And like I’ll be thin before I know it.

And then two p.m. rolls around and my stomach is singing a chorus of starvation songs.

This freaking sucks.

By three, I’m hunched over the front counter, my stomach clenching together in pain. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Fat girls like me love to eat, and our stomachs simply won’t let us forget it.

“You look awful,” Julie says, peering at me over a rack of souvenir shot glasses. “You feeling worse?”

Ironic how I skipped lunch by faking sickness, and now I really am sick. “I’m hungry,” I say, wincing as my stomach rolls into itself.

“You missed lunch,” Julie says. “Why don’t you run get something?”

“You sure?” I ask, but what I really mean is
don’t let me leave. I’m not supposed to eat.

“Of course. You gotta eat.”

With a sigh, I grab my purse and take her advice, slipping out onto the strip. I figure I’ll get a salad from the pizza place a few shops over. I’ll get light dressing, and I’ll try not to eat much of it.

The smell of melted cheese and crispy pepperonis fill my lungs, making me dizzy with hunger the moment I step into the pizza place. My stomach rolls and growls and before I know it, I’m ordering a pizza.

“Pepperoni pizza, please,” I say to the short red haired guy behind the register.

No, no, no!
my brain screams, but I ignore it.

“Small, medium, or large?” the guy asks, his finger hovering over the register buttons.

Small!

“Medium,” I say.

Guilt slams hard into me, but I push it away, reaching for my wallet to pay for my order before I get the good sense to cancel it.

I sit alone at a tall table near the window, watching people in bathing suits head to the beach, smiles on their faces and friends all around them. Guilt presses into me, but even as I wait for my food, I know I’ll only eat one or two slices. I’ll save the rest, give to Grandma or eat some for dinner. This will be okay.

The guy brings my pizza on a platter, and I mean to ask him for a to-go box, but be slips away before I can find the words. I eat a slice, and then two slices. Then I pick off the cheese and pepperoni from a third slice. Minutes fly by in just a few seconds, and before I realize what’s happening, only one slice is left on the tray.

Tears fill my eyes. I can’t even try to hide them as I scramble off the chair, grab my purse, and leave.

I cry the whole way back to Aiden Jane, knowing it’s probably totally ruining my mascara. Of course, dripping mascara lines are the least of my worries compared to eating two thousand calories of pizza in one sitting.

Julie is talking excitedly with a customer near the back of the store, so I slip in undetected, toss my purse behind the counter, and hide behind a display shelf of sandals.

My shoulder is killing me, my stomach is so full it hurts, and I can’t stand being stuck here in my own skin. I’m embarrassed, ashamed, and grossed out.

Why am I such a failure?

I wipe at my eyes, knowing my mascara is all screwed up, but not finding enough energy to care.
Get it together, Bess.
Julie will see me any minute. I’ll lose my job. Or worse—she’ll want to talk about what’s wrong.

I take a slow, shuddering breath, and let it out slowly. Though I’m still wracked with guilt, at least the tears have stopped.

I hear Julie say a cheerful, “Hi, can I help you?” and then it dawns on me that someone just came into the store and I’d been too distracted to pay attention to the bell chiming a few seconds ago.

“Does a girl named Bess work here?”

I recognize the voice immediately. Chills prickle over my arms, fear stabs into my heart. Josh Graham is here, and he’s looking for me.

And I’m sitting on the floor wiping tears from my eyes.

Twelve stores, twelve nos. The number thirteen isn’t exactly lucky, but I’m hopeful anyway as I step into the girliest damn store I’ve ever seen. It’s called Aiden Jane, which is like a combo of a boy and girl’s name together, but there’s nothing but frilly, cutesy, glittery, girl stuff as far as the eyes can see. I’m hit with the powerful scent of a French vanilla candle as soon as I walk inside.

Ugh, the things a guy will do for a pretty girl.

An older woman stands behind the front counter, talking to an equally old woman. Damn. I guess my wishful thinking of running into Bess immediately is just too much to hope for.

“Hi, can I help you?” the woman asks, flashing me a bright white smile.

I smile back. “Does a girl named Bess work here?”

My heart beats hard, the anticipation nearly killing me. I’ve been in so many stores in a such a short time. All of the shopkeeper’s faces have blurred together into one big face that’s just telling me no. This one will probably have the same answer.

“Yep, she sure does.”

Wait. What? I run a hand through my hair. “Awesome, is she here?”

The woman’s brows pull together. “I think so. She went to get lunch, but I think I heard her come back in a few minutes ago.” She gazes out over the store, and I look too, an eager sort of excitement filling my veins.

“Bess?” She calls out.

A pale hand shoots up from behind a rack of shoes. “Here,” she says.

“There she is,” the lady says, pointing toward the hand. “She must be organizing the shoes.” She gives me a wink and then turns back to the lady she’d was talking to when I walked in.

My knees feel weak as I squeeze through the random assortment of girly stuff that’s for sale here at Aiden Jane. I’m nervous to see Bess again, terrified of what I’ll say. I still never thought of an excuse, and my only reason for being here is to give it one more chance. One more giving it my all attempt to see if she’d be interested in me.

I’m nervous as hell as I walk around the shoe rack. Guess I’ll wing it and hope for the best.

“Hey,” I say. Only, when I step around the shoes, she’s got her back to me while she kneels on the floor, messing with a shoe box.

She glances over her shoulder quickly. “Hi.”

My brain tries to think up something to say, but I can’t. I’m paralyzed because even the back of her head is pretty.

A few seconds later, she puts me out of my misery by saying, “You’re Josh, right?”

“Yeah, uh. That’s me.”
Wow, good job, idiot. Don’t try to say something intelligent or anything.
“So, um, when do you get off work?”

“Soon,” she says, taking out a pair of shoes and putting them neatly back in their box.

“Do you want to go to dinner?” I ask. “You know, after work?”

She looks back at me, her gaze meeting mine for the first time since I came in here. Her eyes are hazel, and they widen as she looks at me. “Um, no.”

“Oh, okay.”

She shrugs. “I mean, I just ate so I’m not hungry.”

“What about ice cream or something? Like in an hour?”

She grimaces. “I’m not a fan of ice cream.”

Shit. “Frozen yogurt?” I offer.

She shakes her head. “Not really into dessert.”

“Sure, no problem.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “I was just bored. Thought maybe you’d want to hang out.”

I think back to what Maddie had said about giving it one last chance. Is this my last chance? Is this really it? She’s telling me no to everything, so I should probably give up. I put on my best hopeful smile and send a prayer up to God, hoping for some kind of sign that this isn’t my last chance.

“We could maybe hang out,” she says, looking down at her nail polish. “I mean, not today because I’m busy, but maybe another time.”

“Really? Yeah, that’d be awesome.”

She shrugs one shoulder and looks back at the shoes in front of her. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

I may be an idiot when it comes to girls, but I know how to pick up on a sign that I’m not wanted. Elise used to do this to me, back before she broke up with me for good. Avoiding eye contact, suddenly claiming to be busy all the time. Even during homeroom when we literally had nothing to do for fifteen minutes, she wouldn’t want to sit on top of my desk and chill with our friends like she did back when we were a happy couple. She’d sit at her own desk across the room, saying she was “busy” even though it never seemed like she was doing anything.

I know busy all too well.

But I’m still not ready to give up. I mean, until she looks me in the eye and tells me to fuck off, I think I might still have a chance.

“Okay, cool,” I say all easy-breezy like I don’t have a care in the world. “I’ll see you around.”

I open my mouth to ask something more—to venture into uncharted territory and ask for her phone number—but she responds before I get the chance to do it.

“Okay. Bye.”

Defeated yet again, I pick up the last bit of my pride and hope, and turn around. I walk slowly toward the door, hoping she’ll call my name or rush up and grab my sleeve, asking me to wait up because she still has more to say. I lose myself in the fantasy of her touching my arm, turning me around and giving me a napkin with her phone number on it, her hazel eyes smiling up at me as she asks me to call her tonight.

But of course, she doesn’t do that. I don’t even know where she’d get a napkin between the shoes and the store’s glass door.

Sometimes daydreams can be a total bitch. I press my hand to the door, take a deep breath, and leave my crush behind.