Skinny(43)

“One mile? Please. Like that’s something to brag about.”

Rat was nowhere to be found after school, so I took the bus home. But it’s Rat. He’ll be back, right? I’ll fix it. Somehow.





Chapter Fourteen


Ms. DeWise is the youngest teacher at Huntsville High School. Or at least she looks that way. Maybe it’s because she always wears jeans rolled up to show her black Ed Hardy tennis shoes with the red broken heart on them. Or maybe it’s her red curly hair that is obviously not “born with it” red, but more like “let’s find the reddest red ever to come out of a box” red. Everything about her screams drama, and that’s why I’ve avoided her classes at all cost. There’s no telling what she’ll ask a student to do, and the almost impossible odds of me being able to blend into the back wall make her, and her teaching, a complete nightmare for me. Unfortunately, as Rat pointed out last week, I have to take drama in order to try out for the musical. Stupid rule.

Too bad he’s still avoiding me, or I’d tell him I’d signed up for the class. I need to tell him I’m sorry and that I miss his weird science experiments and constant monitoring. I need to say I miss him. And I will tell him. Soon. But I’ve gone this far. Risked death by stomach rearrangement, trips to the mall with Whitney, and maybe even losing my best friend, to get to this point. Now all that stands between me trying out for the musical and wowing everyone as Cinderella is Ms. DeWise’s drama class. So here I am, sitting in the middle of a class full of theater nerds, my palms sweating and my breath coming in short little gasps, trying not to draw any attention to myself. But that is the problem. Drama is all about attention.

“Everybody up,” Ms. DeWise calls out as soon as she enters the room, her clown hair bouncing wildly around her head with each step. In the front row, Gigi leaps up and immediately starts doing jumping jacks. Others, obviously in the know, get up and start stretching legs and arms. I stand there awkwardly, waiting for instructions, sure that everyone is watching me.

“Stretch. Up, up, up to the ceiling. Inhale.”

I raise my arms, fingers extending, and glance around the room. No one is looking at me. They are all stretching. I suck in a breath and hold it awkwardly.

“Okay, relax!” Ms. DeWise shouts. “Go limp from your waist up. Drop your arms down to the floor. Sweeping. Sweeping.”

I bend over and let my arms drop toward my feet. I keep sneaking looks around the room out of the corners of my eyes, trying to make sure I’m doing it right.

“Exhale.” Ms. DeWise paces back and forth in front of us.

“Couple of deep breaths. Slowly. In. Out. In. Out.”

Slowly, everyone straightens with some groans and relaxed laughter. Okay, it’s over. I did it. I try to escape back into my desk. Not going to happen.

“Everyone down on the floor.”

She’s kidding, right? I look around, pulling up my once again baggy jeans. Apparently, she isn’t. Everyone is pushing away desks and lying down on their backs. I sink down to my knees, roll back onto my butt slowly, and awkwardly extend my legs out in front of me.

“So clumsy. You can’t even lie down gracefully. Look at Gigi up there. She looks like she’s dancing even when she lies down.”

I position my backpack behind me and lie back, using it as a pillow. I stare up at the ceiling tiles, noticing a water-stained corner on the one directly above my head.

“Everyone, close your eyes.” I shut my eyes halfway, but close them when I see her Ed Hardys marching up the aisle. “I want everyone to relax their bodies and minds. Think the answers to my questions. Concentrate on quieting your spirit. Ready?”

I guess so.

“Who’s beside you? Who’s in front? Who’s in back?”

I have no idea. I know Gigi is in front of the room. I did notice her. I could describe the ceiling tiles, but she doesn’t ask about that.

“What process did you go through this morning before you came to school? Did you take a shower? Did you eat breakfast? Go through each step before you came to school.”

I ate breakfast. A quarter of a bagel and a spoonful of cream cheese. Then I fought with Briella over her excessive bathroom time. Remembering the way she threw her hairbrush at me doesn’t relax me.

“Now think of a sad moment. What is happening to make you feel so sad? Where are you? What do the surroundings look like?”

The memory of my mom in the hospital cafeteria comes out of nowhere and shocks through my body, causing my hands to twitch uncontrollably at my sides. It’s like this movie I saw once where these people were on a luxury cruise ship and they were having a fancy dinner party, totally unaware that this huge tidal wave was coming.