Measuring Up

“Want some ice cream?” Em asks as we sit at her kitchen table. Her house is just as big as mine, but so much homier. The table is small with only four chairs, but half the time she and her mom eat in the living room together while they watch their favorite shows. I like that. Mom and I don’t share any shows and while my dad is cool, he’s not much of a TV person.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say yes. I mean, hello, it’s Cherry Garcia, but then I think about those six pounds and how hard it was to get them off. How easy it would be to put them back on, and like Tegan says, each week will be different. There will be some, where I don’t lose, or I only lose one and do I really want to make it worse by cheating now? Nope. “No thanks. I’m not hungry.”

She shrugs, scoops herself a bowl and plops down in another kitchen chair. “I can’t believe you let your mom do that to your hair.”

I’m getting used to it now. It’s different, but not too big a deal. “You know how she is, plus, I kind of wanted to try something different.”

“You wanted to or you knew she wanted you to?” Em takes a bite of her ice cream.

It’s a little of both actually. I wanted something different. Wanted to try and impress Tegan which now that I think about it, is just lame. Like adding some color to a girl’s hair is going to change her? And the thing is, I don’t really need to change. Not that way at least. Tegan seems to like me the way I am too. But Mom? I know it meant something to her. “What difference does it make?”

“Umm, I’m not even going to dignify that question with a response.”

I frown because she’s right. “I love that I can always count on you to tell me like it is, Em.” Except when I don’t tell you something for that specific reason.

“That’s what I’m here for. You’d do it for me too.”

Again I’m hit with a slam of guilt. I’m lying to my best friend in the world. I should tell her. My eyes cast toward the table, I open my mouth to do just that, but she cuts me off. “There’s this asshole at the college who won’t leave me alone. Every time I turn around he’s there. It’s driving me crazy.”

My head snaps up so I can look at her. Em never talks like that. If there’s someone giving her shit, she tells him off, retreats inside herself and that’s that. If anyone brings up Billy Mason or any of the other people at school, it’s always me. “What did he do to you?” It’s fu

“He’s just…” She’s stirring her ice cream, making Cherry Garcia Soup out of it. “He’s always trying to talk to me. Just always there, asking me what I’m listening to on my iPod or if I did the homework. He even tried to eat with me the other day.”

She gives a look like I’m supposed to agree with her. Tell her what a jerk he is and that she should tell him off. “Well… maybe he’s nice? Maybe he likes you.”

Emily’s eyes and mouth both widen into large “O’s”. “Please, Bell. You know as well as I do how stuff like that ends. There are hundreds of other girls at the

school and he has the urge to talk to the girl in black with the screwed up face? I’m not stupid.”

“Your face isn’t screwed up!” I say even as she rolls her eyes. “I’m serious. It’s not that big a deal and maybe he doesn’t like the other girls or maybe he thinks you’re pretty, or likes black, or you have the same music in common. You never know. Your birthmark doesn’t define you, Em. Maybe he’s just a good guy and sees

that.”

Like Tegan? I’m not sure if I would be saying this a few weeks ago. Well, maybe I would have, but I’m not sure I would have believed it.

“Like you don’t think you’re defined by your weight? Which isn’t a big deal, by the way. I mean, you’re gorgeous, but do you see it?”

“I…” It’s something I can’t really answer, because I can pretend all I want that I don’t care about my weight. That it’s not one of the major things I notice when I look in the mirror. That the first time Tegan says the wrong thing I didn’t automatically assume that’s where it came from. But the fact is, I’m not there. I’d like to think I’m closer. Maybe that’s because of Tegan and our work outs, but I’m still not completely there.

It sucks.

“It’s easy to give other people advice, but not always easy to know it yourself, is it?”

I shake my head. “I still think he might like you though.”

“And I still think he doesn’t. I’m happy with you and Mom. I don’t need anyone else anyway.”

And the worst friend in the world award goes to…. A

to tell her.

***

As I’m driving to Tegan’s apartment, my cell phone chirps. I ignore it for a minute because I’m a little lost. He lives in the older side of town with thin streets, cars parked on each side so you have to maneuver between them and you drive down the same street and suddenly it has a different name. I’ve always wondered what the

point in that is? Just call the whole stupid street the same thing. Like I’m not nervous enough about today. The last thing I need is to get lost or to run into a parked car or something.

I look up and see the sign for Hillside Apartment Complex. Just as I’m pulling up, a car pulls away from the curb so I take the spot. It’s a medium-sized complex, what looks like a narrow alley ru

And I’m stalling by dissecting his apartment. Go, me.

Then I remember my cell and pick it up. It’s a text from Tegan.

Hey, A. With a client. Ru

Um, no. I love his mom, but the only time I’ve seen her is pre-kiss. Things feel different now. I don’t even know if she knows we’re together. It’d just be too

uncomfortable. And with a client? I thought he was off today.

That’s okay. I can wait outside for u. I reply. It’s like five seconds later when my cell beeps again.

Get ur butt in there or I’l send her out for u. She’s excited to see u and don’t be nervous.

Leave it to Tegan to know I’m nervous. This whole night has me on edge.

Pushing all that thought aside I grab my bag from the passenger seat and get out of the car. It feels like I’m always carrying some kind of bag with my workout

stuff nowadays.

It’s easy to find which apartment is his. Taking a deep breath, I knock. It takes a few minutes, but then Tegan’s mom opens the door. She’s wearing a waitress

uniform from one of the steak houses in town.

“Hey, sweetie. Come in.”

I can’t help but smile. I missed her. Dana is pulling a shoe on her foot as she walks, and not doing a good job of it.

“Busy, busy like always.” She smiles.

There isn’t a lot of furniture in the apartment. I don’t know if it’s because they can’t afford it or because the sparseness probably makes it much easier for Tim to get around. But still, it’s cozy. A picture of the three of them hangs over the couch.

“Have a seat. I’m on my lunch break. Just needed to grab something to eat and bring Timmy to a friend’s house. What’s on the agenda for you guys tonight?” I sit

at their dining room table, his mom sitting next to me to finish getting her shoes on. Before I can reply to her, Tim wheels in.

“Ooh, it’s Tegan’s lover.”

“Timothy!” Dana says as my cheeks no doubt turn bright red. “Don’t talk like that. You’re going to embarrass the poor girl.”

“Sorry, Tegan’s girlfriend. About time he brought someone around here. I was starting to think he was gay.”

“Tim!” This time, it’s me who screeches his name. Then of course, I feel like a psychopath.

Tim and Dana both burst into laughter.