Measuring Up

A few minutes later I’m heading to meet Em in our spot. She doesn’t like me going to her house, which I don’t get. I’d love a mom like hers. Not that I don’t have a good one, but Mrs. M is…loving? Em thinks it’s because she knows how miserable Em’s life is so she’s trying to make up for it by being overly attentive. I’m a little unsure of how that’s a bad thing.

The hard part is she doesn’t like coming to my house either because Em is…well, I guess she’s just like her mom, but she doesn’t realize it. Mrs. M wants to make things better for Em, while Em’s overly protective of me. The only difference is where Mrs. M is all hugs and smiles, Em is all sarcasm and, well, kind of rude

comments. There have been way too many times she’s wanted to let that out on Mom, but since I won’t let her, it’s easier if we avoid my place as much as possible.

Since neither of us are real social people, we always meet up at the park when it’s nice, or if we need to stay indoors, there’s this hole-in-the-wall coffee house that doesn’t have name brand attached so the kids from Hillcrest don’t go. The park is huge, with a skateboarding area, baseball, and all that, and this little circular area with a little pond, ducks, and a couple gazebos. Amazingly, it’s never crowded. Once in a while on the weekends, we catch a party or something and have to bail, but usually it’s only littered with a few people here and there. Probably other outcasts like us.

I get there early and head back to our favorite gazebo, close to the pond where we usually feed bread to the ducks.

“Hey.” Em plops down beside me, wearing her signature black, another reason Mom scoffs at her. It’s different than the kind of black I wear. For Em it’s head to

toe. She’s really not Goth or anything, but it’s not often you see the girl wearing any different color. Instead of just wanting to slim down, though, I think she hopes it will somehow make her disappear.

“Hey you,” I say, nudging her when I notice she’s keeping her head tilted down. It drives me crazy when she does that. I sort of get it with other people, but

there’s no reason for her to try and hide her birthmark from me. It’s strange how she can be so strong yet so vulnerable at the same time. Like I said, if someone looks at me wrong, Em’s quick to give it to them, but she struggles to make eye contact for herself. “Did you bring the bread?”

“Yep.” She pulls half a loaf out of her bag before sliding a lock of her brown hair behind her ear. It’s fu

wouldn’t do that with anyone else because it gives a prime look at the oversized, brown birthmark on half of her neck and the side of her face. It only takes me a second to block it out.

Sounds crazy, but it’s true.

“How were the classes, Miss. Overachiever?” It’s the most ridiculous thing I can say.

“Yeah, because I’m the overachiever out of the two of us. You can do anything, Bell, and we all know it.”

I flash to the gym. For some freak of a reason, that makes me think about Tegan. About how he ran with me because I needed it.

“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”

I grab some bread from Em and toss it at the ducks. “I’m not smiling.” Was I smiling? Why would I smile thinking about the torture that is the gym and Tegan?

“Um, yeah you were.”

Suddenly I feel really guilty for not telling her about the gym.

I blame it on my whole fear of failure thing. How typical is it for someone to try to shed a few pounds and fail? But the fact is, if anyone would get it, it would be her. Still, I’d have to hear about how lame it is, how I’m fine the way I am and if she ever saw Tegan, it would be over. She doesn’t trust anyone, and even though I don’t trust him either, my huge wall of sarcasm has nothing on hers. “I don’t know why I’m smiling, Em.” Which I don’t, so I’m not lying.

Lucky for me, Em gives up, something she usually doesn’t do easily. We hang out for a while, making sure to feed the baby ducks more often than the adults,

then she pulls her laptop out of her bag and we each buy some more music for our iPods. I’m a little more careful than her because I have a big fat bill I have to pay to Tegan and if I spend too much I’ll either be screwed or have to ask my parents for more. It’s not a big deal, because they’ll give it to me, but I’m not really the blow cash kind of girl so they might wonder what I’m spending it on.

We’re out here a few hours when we decide to brave my house. If we get home before Mom, I can usually get Em out without risking a Mom vs. Emily smack

down. We’re packing up her stuff when I hear a familiar laugh in the distance.

“It’s hot as hell and you’re still wearing all black and a sweatshirt? Don’t tell me you’re going to be one of those kids who show up to school with a machine gun, Monroe.” Billy’s walking with a few other guys from our school. The other three don’t say much, but they never stop him either.

“You’re such a jerk,” Em sneers.

Billy laughs, hitting Patrick in the arm which makes Patrick laugh, too. I guess he needs permission. “Emo chicks are fu

“And you’re a dumbass.”

Billy ignores her. “What about you, cupcake? Is that your plan too? Or wait, I bet you’d take a bullet for me, wouldn’t you? Love makes people do crazy things.”

I actually feel my face turn red. It’s a mixture of embarrassment and anger. I’m not sure which emotion is the strongest. Whichever it is, it’s making me mute.

Nothing I say will matter: I don’t love you. I don’t even like you. Well, of course I don’t, but all of that’s just going to make me look even more pathetic. The fat girl in denial.

“Screw off, jerk. The only person who loves you is you. Stop trying to win A

I want to hug and smack Em at the same time. It’s amazing that she sticks up for me, but on the other hand, stop trying to win A

Billy falls to the ground laughing. This time, Patrick doesn’t need a nudge to join in. Soon, all of them are laughing at my expense. Em grabs my arm and pulls me away.

“Don’t go away mad! Just go away!” Billy yells during laughs. “Poor Cupcake and Birthmark. You’ll never amount to anything, but don’t let it get to you. At

least you have each other!” His voice almost echoes as we walk farther away. I still hear it, over and over.

“They suck,” she says when we’re almost to our cars.

“Yeah.” And so do I. I’m mad at myself for letting them get to me and mad at myself for not standing up to them.

“All boys suck. Don’t ever trust them. Girls like us? They’re always going to end up hurting us.”

Her words shock me a little. Em’s always a little of a downer, but I’ve never heard her talk about guys like that, like someone else has hurt her I don’t know about.

Right now, I don’t have time to think about it. All I can think of is I know she’s right. And it more than sucks.

Chapter Four

DIDN’T WEIGH TODAY. GUESS I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO DO IT DAILY. NO PROMISES.

The thought of meeting Tegan today is nauseating. It’s stupid and I hate myself for it, but I can’t stop ru

I drop my head against the steering wheel, even angrier now that I feel like I am those things just because he said it. Knowing you shouldn’t think a certain way and making it true are two different things. People who’ve never experienced it don’t get it. “Don’t listen to them,” “There’s nothing wrong with you,” “Just forget about it” are just words. Sure, they may make the speaker feel better, but it’s hard for the person hearing them to actually let it seep into their brains and hearts.