Young Annabelle (5 page)

Time for the food portion of the
questioning…

How come you aren’t asking me about
tomorrow’s meal plan? Show me your food diary!

I hope you realize school will
be starting in a few weeks
… (this one was always left hanging).

Then attempt at sympathy…

We only want you to be healthy;
don’t you want to be healthy? You know, Anna Banana, boys can be
cruel.
(Father knows
best on that one, right Mom?)
Doesn’t it make you sad, wearing clothes that
size?

And the final dig:

Would you like a salad with the
dressing on the side for dinner tonight?
(They’d already have the answer in their heads;
dressing on the side was a trick question, there was no
dressing!)

Going home early did not hold much incentive
for me.

Fucking hell, is there no safe haven for me
to go to?

I stared at my reflection in the locker room
mirror as I washed my hands. Their comments cut deeply. If I didn’t
have my emotional control to fall back on, I would have spent an
hour in the bathroom stall sobbing about how unfair life was. But I
couldn’t do that, crying would just make things worse. Besides. I’d
already come up with a top ten list for how my life sucked:

My ass was too big.

My parents and siblings thought my ass was
too big.

I hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks.

There was nowhere I could go where there
wasn’t a constant spiel about my ‘well-being’.

No one understood me. Except Jenna.

I didn’t have a boyfriend.

I had just fucked up with a cute guy.

I would never have another chance with a cute
guy like James again.

I didn’t get paid until Monday and I only had
$25 to last me until then.

Even if I wanted to catch the attention of
a certain
guy
, I had no
makeup and my clothes were disgustingly old. (Reminder: go shopping
next payday.)

I dried my hands and headed out. I took a
detour, forgoing the employee exit and heading straight to the
reception desk to have a word with Jenna.

“Hey you,” I whispered dramatically when I
reached reception.

The chair swiveled around and a giant grin
greeted me.

“What’re you doing here?” Jenna asked
playfully, her eyes shining brightly.

“It was slow, so Shelby cut my shift a half
hour ago,” I explained as my elbows rested on the counter.

“
It’s quiet up here too. Anything
interesting happen out on the
course
?” she
asked, gently turning her chair from side to side.

The club’s reception area was expansive. It
had the space for three more pairs of hands to work, but Jenna was
alone.

“
Maybe
,” I teased.

“You need to tell me everything!” Jenna
demanded desperately.

I burst out laughing and took a step back,
just in case she decided to jump over the counter and pummel me for
holding out.

“Miss Barns!” an authoritative voice
declared. Ms. Jones, one of the club’s administration supervisors
came barreling out of the membership office in the back, stopping a
few feet from her door. “If you could, kindly get back to
work!”

“Yeah, get back to work!” I ordered Jenna,
failing to keep a straight face.

“How’s this for work!” Jenna laughed as she
twirled in her chair like it was a carnival ride.

I couldn’t contain my laughter anymore.

Floor-crushing footfalls were coming
threateningly close, led by Ms. Jones stern call: “MISS BARNS!”

“That’s my cue. Later!” I pushed off the
counter and ducked out the door.

I exited through the front entrance and
headed toward the bike docks. As I strode over, I thought about my
options. I could catch a movie, or get some food (a burger was
sounding delicious). Maybe I’d exercise. I could ride up and down
the hill,
that
was
exercise. I could always slip into stalker-mode and search the
grounds for James. Or just go to the park and listen to my iPod.
Oh, the choices!

A long shadow stretched over me as I knelt at
my bike lock.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said.

I craned my neck to see who it was.

Second chance!

“Hey.” I stared up at him holding his blue
backpack. My eyes widened as I took in his features again, one by
one. Somehow I managed to take out my lock and get up.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, doing my
best to avoid looking him in the eyes. I struggled to place the
lock back in its holder; it wouldn’t snap in. I got frustrated and
my lack of finesse with this one menial task was turning me into a
flustered mess. Having James watching me was wrecking my
nerves.

“Let me,” he offered and slid in front of me,
his back grazing my front. His fingers caressed mine as he took the
lock from my hands. My heart went into overdrive. My brown eyes
watched him as he easily snapped in the lock.

“There you go.”

“Thanks.” I used every ounce of courage I had
to look him the eyes when I spoke. He gazed back nonchalantly.

“Are you going home?” James asked.

I nodded and looked away. His eyes were
burning into mine and turning them into putty.

I mustered up everything I had left and
turned to face him. When our eyes met, his were no longer
smoldering, instead they were squinty and irritated.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. Well, yeah, there’s something wrong.” He
folded his muscled arms across his chest and didn’t continue.

“And that is…”

“Well, fireball, you didn’t tell me you
missed me,” he smirked.

I shook my head in amused disbelief; I took a
step back and turned my bike, rolling it towards the hill.

“
Oh yes, I missed you
so
much,” I told him sarcastically. I could feel him
following me.

“The truth comes out. Finally,” James
rejoiced as he took two long strides to bring himself up beside
me.

Oh, what the hell, I’ve got nothing to do,
might as well play a little…

“That’s right, tiger, I missed you
loads!”

“I like how that sounds.”

“What sounds?”

“The nickname you gave, rolling off your
tongue.”

“Well, you gave me a nickname.”

“That I did.” His smirk never left his
face.

“Are you going home now?”

“Nah, my dad’s going to pick me up in an
hour.”

“Oh, that’s
cool.”

“You ride your bike to work, don’t your
parents give you ride? These hills are kind of steep.”

“My parents don’t believe in driving me
places I can ride my bike to,” I explained simply.

“Oh, they’re one of those Green Peace
types?”

“No,” I replied. “They want me to lose
weight.”

Why did I just tell you that?

“That’s stupid,” James replied. “You look
fine to me.”

My heart began to race.

I’m
fine
, James thinks I’m
fine
!

My inner pessimist took out her whip and
slapped me a few times, telling me to take that sort of compliment
with a grain of salt.

“You’re just being nice,” I scoffed.

“No, I’m not. It’s the truth. You look good
to me.” He sounded completely sincere.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, my cheeks turning a deep
crimson.

“Nothing to thank me for, it’s just the truth
after all,” he told me. “Besides, it’s your parents that are making
you feel like this. I sorta know what that’s like… My dad’s a
dick.”

“Yeah, my parents are always ruining my mood
for no reason.” I decided I’d share with him, since he’d opened up
a bit too.

“
I bet your parents have nothing on my dad.
When I say he’s a dick, he’s
really
a dick,” James exclaimed.

I didn’t fight him on it, not because I
couldn’t go toe-to-toe with him on whose parents were the bigger
assholes but because I was hurting – this hill was killing me!

“I’m sorry,” I replied, struggling to breathe
as I stopped.

“
Here, let me,” he offered, taking the
handlebars from me. We grazed again.
Sigh!

“Thanks.” Without the weight of the bike, the
hill instantly became easier to climb. But that didn’t stop my
thighs and calves from screaming when we reached the top.

I glanced over to James and he was breathing
normally, unlike me who was a panting mess.

I took my bike from him, thanking him again.
I climbed on and looked at him for a moment.

“Can I have your cell number?” I heard him
ask me, although the pounding of my heart made it difficult
hear.

“Sure.”

He pulled his cell from his back pocket and
programmed my number into it. He muttered goodbye then headed back
down the hill without looking back.

I rode home elated. I couldn’t believe he’d
asked for my number!

It wasn’t until I was pulling onto the
property that I realized I’d forgotten about doing something to
occupy my two hours. I was early, too early. This would be bad.

After putting my bike away, I swung my bag
back onto my shoulder and quickly scanned my calorie watch to see
how many calories I’d burned until now. I was at a total of 350
calories. Even though I’d lost work hours, it didn’t hurt my count
because climbing the hill saved me by giving me the extra fifty I
needed to pass. Normally I wouldn’t have gone up the hill in one
go. I would have stopped at least ten times to catch my breath and
stretch my legs, and I would have walked much slower.

My hand was on the knob of the front door.
Before I turned it, I inhale deeply; my brain needed all the oxygen
it could get.

Here goes nothing!

“I’m home!” I yelled as I opened the door and
entered the cool interior.

“You’re home?” Mom yelled back, confused.

I heard her excited footsteps trample up the
stairs from the basement. She burst out from the basement door and
came straight for me.

“Why are you home early?” she demanded before
I’d even gotten one shoe off.

“It was really quiet so Shelby cut my shift
early,” I explained. I made my way to the family room, expecting
her to follow me. I plopped down on the couch and looked up to find
the room was empty, Mom had disappeared. From the front hallway I
heard a zipper open, then Mom came into the family room holding my
lunch box. She lifted the lid and examined it thoroughly, ensuring
there was no food left.

“You ate it all?”

“Yes.”

“But you missed your second break, if she cut
your shift, when did you eat the yogurt?”

The interrogation had begun.

Slowly, my teeth began to grind. My patience
was wearing thin and, at 17 years old, my emotions were always on
high with her constant nagging and questioning.

“I ate it in the change room before I came
home,” I lied.

I could see Mom take a moment to mentally
envision my day in her head, coordinating everything, making sure
what I was saying made sense.

“Oh, okay,” she finally said.

I sighed inwardly. I was relieved to have
overcome that hurdle.

Mom sat down on the couch beside me. Then,
all of a sudden, she leaned over and grabbed my watch.

“Let me see your calorie burn!” she
demanded.

I instinctively tried to pull my wrist from
her grasp. “Oh my God!” I yelled at her as she scanned the
number.

“Only 350?!” Mom exclaimed.

I jumped off the couch and spun to face her,
bewildered.

“
What do you mean,
only
350?”

She leaned back on the couch and pulled a
pillow onto her lap, like a barrier between us.

“You should have burned at least 400 calories
by now,” she replied calmly. Her tone only served to infuriate me
further.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I
retorted. “We agreed I should burn at least 300 calories before
dinner every day. I’m clearly over. I’ve gone above and
beyond!”

“That was last month; this month it’s 400.
Your goals change every month, didn’t you listen to the
nutritionist? As you begin to lose weight, the lighter you become
the more calories you have to burn to keep losing the weight.”

What the hell is all this mumbo
jumbo? I do more than my fair share of exercise and now they
want
more
!

“And you’ve already lost five pounds; do you
think the next five are going to be as easy?”

“It’ll come off,” I shrugged.

She rose from the couch and stood imposingly
in front of me.

“Oh really? Well I do hope so, Annabelle!
Because you would do well to remember that school is only a few
short weeks away. It’s your senior year, for heaven’s sake!” Mom
shouted.

I stepped back; my body and mind immediately
set on neutral. Every time she brought up school and senior year,
it was as if she cast a spell that turned my entire being into
mush. I didn’t need any more reminders; I spent plenty of time
thinking about gracing Royal Heights High School as a size ten yet
again and it didn’t make me feel any better than when she did it. I
didn’t know why my mom insisted on making me feel as horrible as
possible for being a size ten. It wasn’t like she had to walk
around in my shoes. She didn’t have to wander the halls, void of
boys ogling her, void of a boyfriend, void of affection and
attention.

I’m as boring as they come. A
wallflower!

“I’m going to my room,” I muttered as I
headed out of the family room.

“Wait,” she called after me, “before you go,
I want those fifty calories!”

I couldn’t believe she’d dared to order that.
I stopped in the doorway and spun around, giving her a look that
screamed ‘You’re crazy!’