Skinny(67)

“I followed the voice you gave to me

But now I gotta find, my own . . .”

This is what the surgery was all about. Nobody is laughing at me or calling me names. Not even the voice deep inside.

I don’t sing for the three judges out front. I don’t even sing for the scattered students, my competition, in the audience.

I sing for Skinny.

The music swells. It feels like a plug is pushing into the socket, and I connect with everyone sitting in every chair. I will never be viewed the same again. Not by myself and not by anyone sitting in this room.





Chapter Twenty-Three


You were amazing!” Briella waits outside the auditorium doors with a huge grin on her face. She grabs my shoulders and pulls me in for an enthusiastic hug.

“Thanks.” I can hardly get that one word out. She’s squeezing me so tight and spinning me around and jumping up and down all at the same time. It feels like I’ve been dropped in a blender with the top off.

When the spinning, jumping, and hugging finally stop, I manage to ask, “So, you think it went okay?”

She bursts into laughter. “You dope, it was so much better than okay. And you know it.”

She is right. I do know it. I was terrific. My smile feels like it’s going to break open my face.

“Where’s Rat?” I ask Briella.

“He’s outside waiting for you.”

I mumble something under my breath.

“What?” Briella asks.

“I’m scared,” I say again, but this time it comes out much stronger.

“After what you just did, this is what scares you?” Briella asks, incredulously.

“I’ve got more to lose with this.”

“Just go talk to him. He’s outside.”

I push open the metal doors and walk out into the cool night air. Rat is sitting with his back to me over on the stone benches around the flagpole. When I walk up behind him, he doesn’t turn.

“Did you get the part?” Rat asks.

“I don’t know yet. I think it’ll be posted tomorrow down by the choir room.” I walk around in front of the bench to face him.

“You will,” Rat says, finally looking up at me. His face is still, but I can see a muscle in his cheek jumping. “All evidence points to that outcome.”

“So, you want to talk?” I ask hesitantly. I stand with my arms crossed across my chest, waiting for his response.

“Sure,” he says, and pats the empty spot beside him. I sit down on the cold bench and stare off across the parking lot. He sits quietly next to me. I can feel his eyes on my face. I pause, taking a deep breath.

Finally, I blurt, “I miss you and me.” I twist around on the bench to face him. “I know I’ve done some stupid things lately, and I’m really sorry, and you probably think I’m horrible.”

“I don’t think you’re horrible at all.” He turns, his knees touching mine. “I think you needed to figure out what you wanted. Who you wanted.”

“I’ve figured it out.” I reach out to touch his shoulder, my hand sliding down the side of his arm until it rests on the top of his hand. “I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”

“Yes, you could have.” He turns his hand over, cupping my hand in his, fingers sliding between mine. It feels like coming home.

“I need you.” It comes out weird and intense sounding.

He slowly leans across my body, his lips inches from mine.

“I need you, too, Ever.”

Then he kisses me, and it’s not a Cinderella and Prince Charming kiss. Nothing like that. It’s a Sleeping Beauty kiss. A kiss that jolts every nerve in my body that has been sleeping for hundreds of years. Everything comes screaming awake. All I can do is feel. Feel his lips and his tongue and his arms and his heart all together at once. I feel every touch, every taste, every every thing. I finally understand what it’s like to be truly awake, and I never ever want to go back to sleep again.

“You know, the odds are I probably won’t ever be skinny,” I say, when the kissing finally stops for a few moments.

“I loved you when you were three hundred and two pounds, and I love you now.” His gaze locks with mine.

He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. I want him to say it again and again and again.

“I love you, too,” I say. I know he already knows it. He’s probably known it for a long time. He’s smart like that.

“That’s good to hear,” Rat says.

“Do you love me more now?” I ask. Because I’m prettier and thinner and more popular and . . .

“Probably less,” he says, matter-of-factly. I lean away from him in mock surprise, but his arms keep me from going far.