Page 31 of Habits

Max looks over his shoulder at me, lifting his brow in question.

“Go.” I shoo him away. He opens his mouth, but I give him a pointed stare. “I’ll be fine. I’ll look for Lia.”

Maybe. Probably not.

“If you want to go home, come and find me, okay?”

I nod my head in agreement and watch them both walk away.

Sighing in relief, I look around, deciding on what to do and where to go to be left in peace. I’d probably go outside, but it’s freezing cold and my inner California girl won’t be able to handle it. Why did we have to move from California to Michigan of all the places?!

It always the same, wherever you go. People mingle around with red Solo cups in their hands. They chatter and they laugh, some dancing, some hanging in groups. Guys trying to appear cool by making fools of themselves—dude, we really don’t want to see you do a keg stand and then barf soon after—while the girls look around, judging and gossiping about who wears what and who they hang out with.

Different people, same scene. Always the same.

* * *

BEFORE

“Damn girl.” A loud whistle makes me drop the hanger and turn around to look at Lana. “What the hell happened to you?”

I look down my almost naked body, without actually looking. In the past weeks—since the kitchen reveal, that’s how I refer to it in my mind—I’ve become an expert at that. Skimming past my reflection in every way possible has become my specialty.

“What?” I ask, dumbfounded. Squatting down, I pick up the dress I was looking at.

Patrick, one of the guys on the hockey team, is organizing a party tonight at his place to celebrate tonight’s win. Usually, we just meet there, but this time Maddaline invited all of us over to her place to get ready together.

Giving the dress one last look, I decide it probably won’t fit. Putting it carefully back where I found it, I skim through a few more hangers.

When Maddaline suggested I use her closet to find something to wear, I wanted to laugh in her face. Seriously, how cruel can she be? Suggesting little Miss Fat Pants wear one of the Queen B’s short, skinny dresses. But I wanted to humor her nevertheless. Let the anger boil in my veins so that when I get home tonight, I remember why I’m going down to the basement to sweat my ass off for hours on end.

“When did you get so skinny?” she blurts, but I can see by the way her lips press in a tight line that she regrets her choice of words.

“Skinny?” I burst into laughter. “Yeah, right.”

What kind of game is she playing? Only a month ago she called me fatty, and now she wants me to believe that all that weight magically disappeared? No way am I believing that.

“You should totally wear that dress,” Lana continues, walking into the room and taking out the dress I just put back. “It’ll look good on you.”

She puts it in front of me and turns me around so I can face the mirror. Chatting animatedly, she doesn’t even notice how rigid my body is.

My own reflection assaults me before I can think of zoning out. It’s always harder to avoid your own reflection when you face the mirror straight on. When you’re facing the monster, looking it straight in the eyes.

For the first few seconds, I even believe what she’s saying is the truth. I can see the faint stretch marks marring my stomach and thighs. The thighs that, although they’re far from being skinny, are no longer touching. The cup of my bra that’s slightly too big for my breasts.

“Seriously, you should wear it together with those knee-high black high-heel boots. It’ll look amazing and show off your legs.”

Oh, you mean my three-hundred-year-old trunk-sized thighs? Why wouldn’t I want to show those off to the world?

I want to roll my eyes at her and tell her to stop blabbing gibberish, when my gaze becomes blurry and I can feel sweat rise on my skin. When I blink, it’s a completely different picture I face.

My breasts are still super small, the only thing I ever liked about myself now completely ruined and gone, but my stomach is even bigger than before. My thighs press against one another and I’m scared if I move, I’ll hear that awful squeaky sound that happens when they rub together.

“What’s taking you two so long?” Maddaline calls from the doorway of her walk-in closet.

Lana turns around so we face both Maddaline and Nikki. “Look at our girl Jen here. She’s been hiding on us. With all the baggy clothes she wears, it makes sense nobody noticed she’s lost some weight.”

“Dayum, girl. That dress looks hot on you,” Nikki agrees.

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