Halfway Heroes
Page 8
Chapter 5—Collision
When Lydia and her parents arrived home, she headed straight for the shower. She was cautious of the shower knobs, turning them on and off ever so gently, as she washed away her cares of the day. When, towel wrapped around her, she stopped in front of the mirror next to her closet, however, her main concern came rushing back.
In the reflection, Lydia’s shoulders were broader than normal and her arms seemed double their size. She turned to the closet and began tossing out clothes. She held them up in front of her. A good deal of her wardrobe was designed for a smaller girl. A petite girl. Not the girl she was now. The shirts she tried on barely covered her midriff and stretched beyond their limits across her chest.
She pushed aside the clothes and dragged out a large frumpy sweater. Lydia couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn it, but she decided it was better than nothing. Slipping into it and the first pair of large shorts she came across, she began eliminating any article of clothing she found too small. As the pile on the floor grew larger, so did her frustration. When she’d finished, there were only a few shirts and pants that she accepted. Several questionable pieces were left hanging on the rack. The rest of her clothes she kicked aside, scattering them around her room.
Lydia clenched her fists, ready to punch the mirror in front of her, but stopped when she spied her camera on her dresser. The last she’d seen of it, it had clattered to the ground at Rooke Pharmaceuticals. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands, cradling it gently as she examined the screen and the camera case for any scratches.
“Honey, dinner will be re—” Debra stopped at the door and looked at her. “Is something wrong?” she asked, pointing at the clothes on the floor.
“Nope,” Lydia said curtly. She continued to stare at the camera, pretending to check for nicks and damage even though it appeared to be fine. “They don’t fit anymore. That’s all.”
Her mother placed her hand on Lydia’s shoulder and turned her around. She smiled at her and looked at the camera. “Dariela brought it back after you were taken to the hospital,” she explained. Then she sighed and faced Lydia, locking eyes with her. “What’s wrong?”
Lydia tried not to look at her, but her mother’s gentle tone and comforting smile won her over. Lydia’s troubles tumbled out all at once. She turned her face away from her mother, shutting her eyes lest the tears overwhelm her as well. “It’s not fair! I look like a freak!” She waved her hands over herself. “Like some athlete on steroids! I can’t fit into those clothes, and I’ll hear no end of it at school! I know it!”
Debra pulled her into her arms. Lydia buried her head in her mother’s chest, still refusing to cry. “We’ll buy you new clothes this week, alright?” Debra lifted Lydia’s face up and held it straight. “But you should never feel like a freak. You’re not. You’ll always be my beautiful, smart daughter. That will never change. Don’t worry about what the other kids think because they’ll be wrong. You know what happens to superficial people like that? The ones who only care about being popular in high school and how people look?”
“What?”
"They never move on from caring only about being popular." Her mother smiled. "They continue to work at the same places they did long ago, stuck in the past, and longing for their so-called ‘glory days.’ They never let things go. Happened to people I knew in high school, too. In a few years, it'll happen to those kids."
Debra embraced her daughter again and kissed the top of her head. “I guess I’ve been so relieved that you were okay that I didn’t notice your body’s changes. But these changes don’t make you a freak. You’ll overcome it and your father and I will be right behind you. You’re our precious little girl and we love you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Lydia said. She felt a little better, but when she caught sight of the strewn clothes, her anxiety bounced back. Her parents may accept her and love her, but how will the others react? Including her friends, like Dariela? Will everyone abandon me? Lydia buried her head in her mother’s chest once more. She didn’t voice her concerns, but merely planned her outfits for the next few days.
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