Measuring Up

***

“Um, I’m not really much of a boxer.” We’re in a small room by ourselves. I swear, Let’s Get Physical is like a haunted mansion on Scooby Doo. It has all sorts

of secret rooms I didn’t know about. There are a couple long punching bags (no clue if they have a special name) and then the little ones where you have become like Road Ru

“Are you sure you’re not my girlfriend or something? I think you just like to argue with me. Where’s the trust?”

“You have a girlfriend?” I blurt out and then I want to box myself for saying it. You have a girlfriend? Of course he does. Maybe Supermodel up front or someone equally pretty. Plus, it’s not like I care.

“No, bad analogy, I guess, but you get the point. What about you?”

Why is Gym Boy asking me this? Hello. I figure sarcasm is my best defense. “Nope. Don’t swing that way.”

He chuckles again at me. He seems to do that a lot. “You know what I mean. But”—he leans closer to me and I catch a chill. Stupid AC—“I think you knew that.

If you didn’t want to answer me, all you had to do is say so.” He stalls a minute and then says, “Your eyes are the craziest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. It’s like looking in a pool or something.”

I feel his breath he’s so close to me. Minty and fresh. What am I doing? Or a better question is, why is he so close?

“A

me now, trying to get me in the mood to hit a bag, not seduce me. What was I thinking? “I want you to find that anger from this morning. I know you worked some of it off, but pull it back up and then kick its ass for good.”

A beep sounds from his pocket. “Hold up a sec,” he says to me before pulling out his phone and saying, “Hey.”

Whoever is on the other line is talking and then Tegan replies, “Three o’clock. Again? You’re going to kill yourself.” More silence from Tegan. “I know I’m the

same way, but that’s different. It just sucks. We shouldn’t have to—” He looks at me like he forgot I was in the room. The Tegan from earlier is in front of me again.

The one who seems to hide behind a wall like I do. “I’ll come home. I’ll pick him up. No, it doesn’t matter, I’ll change my plans, but I gotta go.”

I’m sure he doesn’t give the person on the other end time to reply before he hangs up. He stands there, looking at me, breathing heavy, but obviously trying to

hide it. “Ready?”

I shake my head. I know this has something to do with his brother. My heart softens a little for him. “I can help… if you need something. I mean, I know we don’t know each other, but—”

Tegan cuts me off. “I don’t need any handouts.”

“What? I’m not trying to give you a handout. I’m trying to be nice.”

“Well you don’t have to. We’re here for you, remember? Not me. You don’t have to worry about my crap.”

He gives me a tight, reassuring smile and takes a step back, motioning to the punching bag, and somehow, my body automatically starts to do what he said.

Mom’s hurtful remarks, every name Billy has called me and everything he’s put me through. It all starts bubbling over, and despite that I’ve never hit anything in my life, I swing. When my gloved hand makes contact with the punching bag, it feels good. Some of that bubbling anger transfers through me and into the bag. And

somehow…somehow I’m hitting for Tegan too.

“There you go, but you’re not nearly as tough as I thought if that’s your best hit. You’re pissed, remember? This is your chance to get even.”

I swing again. Tegan is behind the bag, holding it, but I didn’t even see him move. My fist makes contact a third time. “That’s it. Now I’m feelin’ it. Let it out, A

Again and again my fists make contact, harder and harder on the punching bag.

“Tell ‘em how you feel. Whoever it is: parents, friends, some other jerk, boyfriend…”

“Don’t have a boyfriend, but the others I do have.” Not that I’m mad at Em, because she’s all I have, but no matter how much I love my parents, I am mad at

them. Over and over I punch. My arms are aching way more than my legs were earlier. My chest hurts I’m breathing so hard and God, I probably look like the world’s biggest idiot, but I don’t care.

I’m showing Billy how he makes me feel. Telling Mom how much she hurts me.

“Damn, that was a good one,” Tegan says from behind the bag. “Keep it up. Get rid of it because it doesn’t belong here. This is your time. No one else’s. If they aren’t motivating you, they don’t belong here.”

I hit harder, faster.

It’s amazing how freeing this is. Like somehow I’m really showing Billy how horrible he’s been to me. Showing him I don’t care, even though I do.

“Whew! That one about knocked me out. Chicks who kick ass are hot.”

Hot? What the hell? I know I’m not ugly. I’m not, but no one has ever called me hot before. It’s too late to stop my swing. It’s flying so fast and hard, I lose my target. My glove slips off the punching bag, but the momentum doesn’t slow. My fist lands right in Tegan’s face and he stumbles backward.

“Ouch! Shit that hurt.”

Holy cow! I just hit Tegan. I rush toward him. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened.”

He’s got his hand over his left eye. “You hit me. Almost knocked me out, that’s what happened.”

Tegan shakes his head, like he’s trying to wake himself up. When he moves his hand, I see a small bruise forming underneath it. “Man, I’m so sorry.” And then I

realize, I gave my trainer a black eye! Not that I like hurting people, but it’s kind of invigorating just knowing I have that kind of strength in me.

“Feels good, does it? I thought you were a lover, not a fighter? Could have fooled me.” I almost apologize again, but he’s smiling.

“How can you smile after I gave you a black eye?”

“You gave me a black eye?” he asks.

“A little one.”

He nods. “Bad ass...”

It’s then I remember why I accidentally hit him in the first place. All the anger I just punched away comes flooding back at me. The memories. The lies. They sing in my blood, pulsing right beneath the surface of my skin. Does he think I’m going to fall for that? That I don’t know he’s playing me? Let’s tease the poor little fat girl and make her think she’s something special. I rip the gloves off and throw them to the ground. “Whatever. I’m done.” Without another word, I turn and walk out, tears stinging my eyes.

When I hear his footsteps behind me, I run. As I peel away from the lot, he stands on the street, watching me go.

Chapter Five

BEN AND JERRY, I MISSED YOU

The next day isn’t a gym day for me. I spend it at home and with Em. She can tell something’s wrong with me, but every time she asks, I blow it off like it’s

nothing. It should be nothing, but for some reason, it’s not. I feel like scum right now. Actually, worse than scum.

“Is this about that jerk, Billy?” she’d asked

I’d been honest when I told her no. Because it isn’t about Billy. It’s about Tegan and the way heat simmered inside me when he teased about being hot. The way

my heart sped up and my stomach dropped at the same time. More than anything, it’s about the split second before accidental contact between my fist and his face, where I wanted to believe he could really think I’m hot.

I know I’m not ugly. Really I do. Like I said, I know I have a decent face. I’m not the girl who sits around being down on herself all the time. But I’m also a

realist; I don’t see flowers and rainbows where they aren’t. I know boys and I know what they think of as hot. I’m not their definition. Which is why the whole Billy situation pisses me off so much. Things weren’t how they seemed, but of course, I’m the one who came out looking like the desperate girl who thought a guy like him would want her.