Skinny by Laura L Smith Page A

chest, and tucked them under her hooded sweatshirt.
    Ever since school had started back up, things hadn’t felt right with Beau. Sure, homework was overwhelming. She had Saturday morning officer rehearsals on top of regular dance team practice. He was busy with basketball. But Melissa hadn’t seen Beau outside of French and Algebra classes in two weeks. He hadn’t called either. What had she done wrong?
    She reached for a handful of the popcorn Dad had popped. Melissa hoped to fill her empty feeling.
    No , she told herself. I won’t eat it. I can’t make Beau call me, but I can make myself look good. Beau would like me more if I were thin. Todd will think I’d make a better captain. I can control what I eat. I told God I would. She retracted her hand.
    Dad chuckled his deep laugh along with the canned laughter on the TV. Melissa looked up. He was smiling at her. She smiled back as if she also thought the show was funny. She wished Beau was sitting here smiling at her. She missed him.
    Should she call Beau? Melissa shook her head. He hadn’t called her, but she hadn’t called him either. There was something about calling boys. She had never done it. She wouldn’t let herself start now. Mom was on the phone anyway. Maybe when Mom got off . . .
    Ten minutes later Dad stood up. “Good episode. It’s always so funny.” Melissa felt a tug on her ponytail as Dad left the room.
    “Dad!” He’d been pulling her ponytails as long as she could remember.
    Melissa stood, looked toward the ceiling, and nibbled on her index fingernail. She walked into the kitchen. She tilted her head and wiggled her fingers. She was thinking about calling Beau. She rocked back and forth from her toes to her heels. Her shoulders relaxed when she heard Mom.
    “I think we’re supposed to be there by ten thirty so we can get places set and drinks poured before they open the shelter for lunch.”
    If Mom was still on the phone then Melissa couldn’t call Beau. She exhaled. One less thing to worry about.
    “Okay,” she muttered to herself, “I have to read those crazy French articles and do all those Algebra problems before I can go to bed.” She grabbed her backpack from the laundry room and unzipped it. “And write a poem for English!” she yelled at herself. “Aaagh!”
    Mom covered the mouthpiece on the phone. “You okay, Mel?”
    “Yeah. If you call having thirty-eight hours of homework to do okay. No, really, I’m fine. Totally fine.” She shrugged her shoulders, and trudged to her room.
    She dropped her books on her desk and pulled out her pj’s. “I might as well get comfortable,” she said and sighed. As Melissa undressed, she looked in the mirror. Her stomach seemed to protrude more than normal. Her thighs jiggled like Jell-O when she moved. She pulled on her snuggly flannels with the kitten print as fast as she could. She liked the way their loose fit hid her body.
    “I need to get skinny.”
    She went back down to the kitchen to get her usual study snack, but with the willpower of a monk she grabbed only a diet root beer and a glass of ice. A cool calm filled Melissa’s veins. She felt more in control than she had in days. She set her music to play Beethoven, “thinking music,” she always called it. She stacked her homework carefully in order of importance. She plowed through French, Algebra, and even wrote a decent poem. Things didn’t have to be overwhelming. She just had to be in charge of them. She couldn’t let homework and Beau and dance rule her. She stayed up late, but she got it all done. When she finally closed her eyes, sleep immediately took over her tired brain and empty body.
    She woke up exhausted but ready for her new plan. She weighed herself before and after showering. She weighed more afterward, which sent her pulse racing like a food processor. “No,” she said out loud. “I only weigh more now because of all this wet hair. From now on I will only weigh myself with dry