Chapter 44
Forty-Four
I walk down the school hallway, and everything’s different, but not. I’m me. I’m the me I was meant to be.
I’m wearing my favorite comfy jeans and a cute blue sweater I’ve had for forever.
My hair is in a messy bun with my bangs framing my face, and I’m wearing minimal makeup.
My morning routine that used to consist of meticulously doing my hair, re-painting my nails, and carefully choosing a perfume has changed.
Though I still carefully chose my perfume—pineapple passionfruit. It’s Zeke’s favorite.
Zeke walks down the hallway next to me. We stop at my locker and grab a few things, and he insists on carrying my books.
Suzy laughs. “Well, he sure comes in handy.”
I grin so brightly I think I rival the sun.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you this happy,” Suzy says.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this happy.”
People whisper. People stare. They still take pictures that I’m sure will go up later with mean captions like, “She’s let herself go.”
But I dig deep, searching for that pit of dread in my stomach, and . . . it’s not there.
We’re almost to Suzy’s locker when I hear a wail coming from the girls’ bathroom.
Suzy looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “Does that sound like . . .?”
“I think so,” I say. “I’ll be right back.” I kiss Zeke on the cheek.
“Take your time, beautiful,” he says, standing there with an armload of my o-chem and calculus textbooks.
I walk into the bathroom. Brielle is crying on the tile floor, leaning against the wall, clutching her pink designer purse to her chest. Her blonde hair is perfectly curled, and she’s wearing a sequined white top and miniskirt that looks like it belongs more at the Homecoming dance than a regular day at school.
Her head is lowered, so she doesn’t see me at first. I sit down next to her, ignoring the germs and other ick that we’re most definitely touching.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Brielle jolts and looks up through her layers of blonde hair. Her face immediately screws up into a scowl. She quickly pushes her hair out of her face and scrubs her fingers under her eyes. “Ugh. What do you want?”
I shrug. “I heard someone crying and wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Brielle scowls and pulls out a compact mirror and tissues from her purse and dabs at her eyes. “That’s the problem with you, Callie. You’re just too freakin’ nice. It’s too hard to hate you.”
“Are you sad about Homecoming?” Maybe I’m probing too much, but I want her to know that I don’t have any hard feelings towards her. If she is angry at me, that’s her problem, not mine.
Brielle’s eyes well up with tears once more.
She sighs and puts the mirror and wad of tissues back in her purse.
“It’s just that . . . my mom won Miss America in her day, and she expects so much of me.
She expects me to want the pageant life just as much as she does, but I’m not sure if it’s what I want to do anymore.
And she always looks down her nose at me and makes snide comments about how being in plus-size pageants isn’t real or isn’t as hard as pageants for “normal-sized people” and .
. . and . . . it hurts so much.” Brielle’s voice rises in volume, and she chokes on a sob.
“She makes me feel like I’ll never be good enough. ”
“That . . . that’s awful.”
Brielle looks up at me, her mascara smeared, her face wary.
“I mean it,” I say. “And I get it. My mom puts a ton of pressure on me, too.” She used to, I mentally add, and I believe it.
I really believe that things are going to change.
“It’s incredibly hard to feel like you’re not good enough, to constantly be comparing yourself to her.
To feel like you always have to put on a perfect face or the world will tear you apart. I understand.”
Brielle’s expression turns half-suspicious, half-hopeful. “You do?”
“Completely.”
Brielle’s eyes well with tears once more. Her voice is barely a whisper. “Thank you, Callie.”
I smile and stand. “You’re welcome. If you ever want to talk about it more, I’m here.” I wave a hand in front of my nose. “Also, why does this bathroom always, always smell like someone just took a giant poo?”
Brielle laughs and stands next to me. “You’re right. It really does.” Then Brielle does something that utterly shocks me. She extends her arm, like she wants me to link elbows with her, and I do. We leave the bathroom together.
Suzy and Zeke are leaning against the lockers across the hall, Zeke still holding my armload of books. They’re talking and laughing, and I love that my best friend and my—eeep!—boyfriend get along so well.
Brielle waves goodbye with a smile, and the shock on Suzy’s face makes me laugh. I fill Suzy in on the surprising development that conversation took as we walk toward the lunchroom.
“I feel sorry for her,” I say. “I understand what that pressure is like.”
Suzy nods. “I know you do.”
“Hey, Callie!” Tom Sheppard waves from across the hall, where he’s standing with a group of his friends, holding a skateboard in one hand.
“Yeah, Tom?” I call.
“You were awesome at the dance! The way you stood up to Brielle even when she trash-talked you. So inspiring.”
“Thanks.” I turn to go.
“So how about asking your dad to get me that movie part?” Tom high fives one of his friends.
I turn back to him. “Not a chance!”
Tom’s mouth drops open. I walk by with a smile, Suzy and Zeke following close behind. Suzy covers her mouth to hide a laugh.
“Oh, I just have to make one more stop.” I hurry over to a sign-up sheet on the wall and pull out my fluffy pink pen. I add my name in big flourishing strokes so everyone will see it, right there at the bottom of the Mathlete sign-up sheet.
I cap my pen, replace it in my bag, and take a look at my handiwork. Pride flows through me, followed by a zing of excitement. I’m really doing this.
Zeke puts an arm around my shoulder and pulls me close to him. The intoxicating scent of cedar and cinnamon fills my nose. “You’re going to crush it!”
Suzy shakes her head. “You know I love you no matter what, right?”
I pull Suzy in with my other arm. “I know.”
“But I will never understand you two. Couple of nerds.”
I grin wider. “Just wait until we show you D&D.”