"Get a clue," my brother interrupted. "She doesn't want to talk."
Was that really the case? No, I didn't believe that. Icouldn'tbelieve that. Not after our night together. There was no faking the chemistry we'd shared, but I could hardly say that to Archie who was still lying on the end of my bed like he didn't have a project he should be working on.
"No, I do," she said, saving me. "Just my life can be hectic... so much work and then Friday with that fashion pop-up thing in that old factory."
"Old factory? Where?" I asked, seeing a tiny opening and wanting to pounce on it.
"Hmm?" she asked, her nervous energy pulsing even through the phone. "Nothing. I can't remember exactly. And even if I could..."
"Right. You wish to remain anonymous." Well, fuck that. She'd unwittingly given me a clue and I'd dig until I found her.
"Yes, I do. And I should probably let you go work on the project. Good luck to both of you."
And with that, she was off, and what had started as a fun night was about to become homework hell.
Twelve
Astrid
That night I had the dream... the awful recurring dream that had plagued me for years. I hadn't had it in a while, though, so long that I thought it had finally been banished from my subconscious.
To my horror, it came roaring back, never truly gone, just hidden beneath the surface.
It always started the same way, with the smell, the smell of wealth and snobbery—expensive perfumes and colognes mixed with freshly waxed floors. And then, the wrought-iron gates of St. Lucius Prep, otherwise known as hell, would appear, stark and ominous looking against the backdrop of Manhattan's skyline.
I entered the gates and climbed the few steps into the imposing gray building, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach as I remembered all the times my classmates had insulted me over the years for being fat.
It'd started at a young age, kids pointing when I'd tried the monkey bars and my shirt had ridden up to expose my stomach. And then during PE when I couldn't keep up during tag and other games, always getting picked last.
And it'd only gotten worse, puberty being absolute torture as my breasts grew and grew and grew. The snickers of laughterbecame mixed with sly looks of lust as boys began to notice my chest. As just a girl, I hadn't known how to reconcile the two—the hatred along with the desire.
Heck, even as a grown woman, I still didn't know how to navigate the shitty minds that men tried so hard to hide.
But this particular day of my senior year, the looks were less guarded as I opened the doors and stepped through into the marble foyer, the whispers starting immediately, some kids outright pointing at me and laughing.
God, what fresh hell was this? Did I have cream cheese on my chin? Was toilet paper stuck on my shoe?
Stealthily, I wiped at my face and glanced down, all uniform buttons closed, shirt tucked properly, nothing being dragged by my boots.
There was another ripple of laughter as I looked back up, noticing boys nudging each other by the lockers and girls clasping their hands over their mouths, cheeks pink with suppressed mirth.
And that's when I saw it. An image that would never be erased from my brain.
A poster was plastered on the bulletin board next to the library. And it was me. Blown up. Closing in on my face as I was about to bite into a huge sandwich.
Everything about it was horrible, the angle totally unflattering and emphasizing my double chin, my cheeks full, my mouth wide open, making me look like an animal stuffing itself full of food.
But it wasn't just my face.
Someone had drawn my face onto the body of a big old cow, with the words "Got Milk?" scrawled underneath.
I tore my horrified eyes away from the nightmare-ish poster, only to find another one nearby. And another. And another.
They were everywhere, so many I couldn't fathom how this was even possible.
My stomach churned. My chest twisted. I thought I would die right there on the spot. I hoped I would die actually. That would be the only way to end this misery.
One foot moved, everyone still staring at me as I slowly managed to walk toward the poster and tear it down with shaky hands. But it was useless. Because there was another only two feet away. And then another inches beyond that one.
