Skinny(69)

“Was it male or female?” he’d asked.

“That’s not the important part,” I’d said. “It was how the elephant moved. How it used its size. That was the impressive part.”

“Because if it had a calf that can really make a difference,” he’d said.

“I don’t know if it had a calf. Again, not the point.”

We had pulled into the circle drive of the school and he’d put the car in park. I needed to go to rehearsal, but this was important.

“You don’t understand,” I’d said. “It’s not about the elephant. It’s about me.”

Rat had leaned over and brushed his lips with mine. Once. Then once again, much longer. My toes had curled up into my shoes, sending the tingle all the way up to the tips of my hair. Elephants, shmelephants. Everything in my brain was suddenly gobbledygook.

“I know it’s about you,” he’d said slowly, his eyes locked on mine. Suddenly the musical was the last thing on my mind.

“Okay.” I’d traced his lips with the tip of my index finger. “Just so you understand.”

“I do,” he’d said, and kissed me again. Finally, he’d pulled away. “You’re going to be late.”

I’d opened the car door, suddenly reluctant to leave.

“Was it an Asian elephant or an African elephant?” he’d asked.

“Oh, brother,” I’d said, getting out and slamming the door behind me.

I’d still heard him through the closed window, “Because their ears are totally different. The African elephant’s ears are much bigger and the tops turn backward.”

“Good to know,” I’d yelled back over my shoulder.

Now it’s opening night and in my hand is a tiny silver elephant charm. I pull the note out of the box. There is no signature. I don’t need one.

ELEPHANTS ARE ONE OF THE OLDEST SYMBOLS OF GOOD LUCK.

Rat’s careful all-caps print is instantly recognizable. I quickly slip it on and fasten it around my neck, sliding it down inside the scooped neckline of my white peasant top. I smooth the apron across the long brown skirt of my costume. The contrasting laced bodice fits snug to my body and makes my waist look almost small.

I glance up to see the reflection in the mirror grinning back at me. With her wide grin and dark green eyes sparkling with excitement, the girl in the mirror looks beautiful. The smile . . . my smile . . . gets even bigger.

“Places everyone.” Ms. DeWise moves quickly through the backstage. “Curtain up in five minutes.”

“I’m going,” Briella says with a quick hug. “You’ll be fantastic,” she whispers in my ear.

The bubbles in my stomach rush to my head.

“Break a leg, Ever.” Chance grins at me. “Can’t wait for our big kiss.” He makes kissy noises and pushes his two index fingers together like they’re making out.

“Oh, shut up.” But I’m laughing.

I walk from the dressing room and take my place stage right. I try to ignore the rustles and hushed whispers going on behind me as opening-night jitters explode backstage. Something about the tension in the air reminds me of waiting to go into surgery — the nerves, the lights, the fear of the unknown. Surgery didn’t make every thing perfect, but I’m not sorry I went into that operating room.

“Break a leg.” Gigi, dressed in the heavy costume of the stepmother, passes on my left with a swish of long skirts.

“You too,” I whisper back.

I breathe in the air deeply, filling up my chest. I lift my head and push my shoulders back. The stage is empty in front of me. It’s dimly lit by the swaying brilliance of the waiting spotlights under the thick curtain that separates me from the audience. I hear coughs, muffled laughter, and the squeak of restless bodies in folding theater chairs. A baby cries and is quickly silenced. I feel like my head is lifting off my shoulders. Everything is far, far away.

There is another sound, but I’m the only one who hears it. A whisper. A faint echo. A small, familiar voice.

“You can’t . . .”

“You won’t . . .”

I know Skinny is here, too, because whether I like it or not, she will always be a part of me. I just don’t have to listen to her.

Besides, there’s too much else in my head, and my heart, to listen to faint echoes. Instead I think of my entrance. My movements. My lines. My music. Those brilliant lights shining on the other side of that curtain tonight will change me forever. I know it. Surgery changed my stomach. Losing weight changed my body. Rat’s love changed my heart. But saying goodbye to Skinny changed me most of all. Because Skinny is . . . was . . . me. Now it’s her turn to listen. She needs to hear what’s going to happen on this stage tonight.