“All right, girls?”
“All right, Dad,” I lie. “I’m off to bed.” Cat says nothing but just walks upstairs. Tears are welling up but I just manage to keep them under control.
“Smart,” he says and then drifts back into his happy little jam session. I look back at him through the doorway, willing him to look back up, cos just now, I need someone to look after me. Part of me wants to burst into tears and tell him all about it, so he can make it all right.
But he might look at me with disappointment. I don’t think I could bear that. Anyway, no one can make this all right.
So, I’m on my own. What a fool I’ve been. In my room the tears start falling, hot and wet. I want to take this bloody dress off but the zip’s stuck. My fingers fumble as I try to get a good hold on it, but I’m too tired to even work a bloody zip.
It’s like Zara’s in my head now, thin and perfect, telling me everything that’s wrong with me.
Stupid Jess. So fat that the zip on your dress is stuck. LMFAO.
Finally, the zip moves and I rip the dress off, throwing it on the floor. It lies there, a symbol of all that’s gone wrong tonight. All that preparation, all that hope … I think bitterly of how excited I was only a few hours ago.
What were you thinking? A girl like you, and Matt?
I think about the last few weeks and how rubbish they have been. All the headaches, stomachaches, the bad moods, the constant hunger: all for a door to open. All for Matt to walk past me toward Zara’s smiling face.
You think you’re so smart, don’t you, Jess. You think you’re different, superior to us normal girls. Well, look where it got you. Face it, you’ve got life wrong — you and your crazy gran. Girls are judged on the way they look, and you fail on every level.
I lie curled on my bed, replaying the evening over and over again.
Matt liked me, he did, but I can’t compete with girls who look like Zara. They might be shallow, they might be mean. But they’re hot. And I’m a fat loser freak. Who has just got everything wrong.
And it’s no consolation that Alex seems to like me. I mean, what was that?
He felt sorry for me, that’s all. And anyway … Alex? I mean, he’s not exactly gonna be in a boy band, is he?
I sob into my pillow, pulling the duvet over my head, as if somehow this will protect me from the outside world. But how can I protect me from myself? The sky is light by the time I drift off into uneasy sleep.
When I wake up in the morning, there’s a glorious moment when I don’t think of anything, but then it all comes back to me.
I know it’s a bit of a cliché but my heart is broken. I never thought that it really happened — that your heart feels real pain. But no, it’s true. My chest hurts, like there’s physical damage in there.
My phone beeps, but I don’t want to see anything on it. Unless … unless … Has Matt come to his senses? My heart lurches as I pick up the phone.
But it’s not his name on the display. It’s Alex. I can’t talk to him yet.
I try to make a start on sorting out my thoughts and feelings.
Okay, so I tried to be a “perfect” girl, whatever that is. I made myself lose weight for a guy. For three weeks, I starved myself, I had the makeover, the dress. I did look different. And for what?
Either being perfect isn’t for me, or being perfect isn’t what it’s made out to be.
And how does that leave me feeling about Matt? The bruise in my chest throbs particularly intensely at the thought of him. Yesterday, I would have lain down in a puddle and let him walk over me. A few seconds ago, I was desperate for it to be him. But I have to think this through. He’s the kind of guy who chooses Zara over me. He prefers a girl who bullies others. Clearly, he’s not the guy for me. But someone needs to tell that to my heart.
At least my humiliation is private. Cat’s heart was thrown to the lions in front of everyone. Izzie and Hannah will pick me up and put together the pieces. But Cat has no one that I know of … apart from me.
I drag myself out of bed. I walk the few steps across the landing from my room to Cat’s. I knock on the door.
No reply.
I knock again. “Cat?”
Is there movement inside?
Now I’m getting worried. I push open the door. It’s quiet and dark in here. The familiar Audrey Hepburn posters on the wall. The copies of Vogue neatly piled on the table.
A small lump under the duvet reassures me that at least she’s not gone missing.
“Cat?” I repeat.
The lump moves.
The lump makes some kind of noise.
I take a few steps into the room.
“Go away.”
“No.”
I wait. Only silence.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not going away.”
I sit in the chair next to her bed and pick up a book and start to read.
The duvet reveals Cat, staring.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“I just wanted to make sure that you’re all right.”
She looks at me hard. “I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry about Jack.”
She bristles. “I don’t want to talk about it.” But she’s not finished yet. “But you’re not sorry. You hated him.”
“I hate him worse now. I thought he was a knob before but that was downright cruel.”
She starts to go back under the duvet. “I told you. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ll be fine.”
I feel my bottom lip start to wobble. “Well, anyway, I’m not fine.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want to know why?”
Just silence. I want to scream at her but I try and keep it all together.
“Cat, I’m such an idiot.”
“I could have told you that.” There might be a hint of a smile on her lips.
“Don’t be mean.”
“Are you crying?” she says in surprise.
“Yes,” I say, wiping away the tears.
“Oh.” There you go — Cat, queen of the monosyllable.
“Is that all you can say?”
Cat leans back in bed. “Why don’t you go and eat something, Jess? That’s what you normally do when you’re upset.”
Ouch. That really hurts. “That’s not fair,” I reply.
She purses her lips into her usual pout. “Might not be fair, but it would be true.”
At that point, our old friend Silence fills the room again.
I’m the first to break it. “Can I ask you one question?”
“Okay.”
I steel myself. We never talk about important stuff and I’m not sure how she will react. “Are you hungry all the time?”
After a short pause, she answers. “Yes.”
“And doesn’t that drive you mad?”
A cold smile crosses her face. “Yes.”
“Then why do you do it?”
There is a longer pause now, but she’s not chucked me out yet.
“Because I looked in the mirror and I didn’t like the way I looked. So, I did something about it.”
“And now?”
“I still hate what I look like.”
“But you’re so pretty! Everyone thinks so!”
“My nose — I hate the shape of my nose. And my forehead — it’s so big.”
I stare at my sister’s perfect face.
But she’s off now. I’ve never heard her speak so much and with so much feeling. She’s listing all these minor imperfections. Her freckles, the moles on her arms, the slight bump on her nose, her wonky eyebrows — it’s like she’s possessed. I suddenly see how she sees the world. She feels endlessly judged and so she judges me and every other girl in the world.
> “But Cat, you’re beautiful.”
She laughs hollowly. “Then why did Jack dump me? That’s the deal, isn’t it — a girl has to look perfect and then everything else will be all right?” She looks almost desperate now.
“I tried being perfect for a bit but I don’t think it’s going to work for me,” I say sadly.
I tell her about Matt and then the moment with Alex.
“Well, what did you expect? Matt and you … I tried to warn you. He collects adoring girls. He just loves to be loved. But he only goes out with the trophy girls.” She considers what I said for a moment. “Alex is pretty cool. He’s not hot. You could do worse. I mean, it’s about time you had a proper boyfriend.”
“I don’t know if I like him or not.” Cat makes that face again. I hear her stomach growl.
“Let me make you some lunch, Cat. Whatever you like.”
A thought suddenly strikes me. “You’ve always liked my white chocolate and raspberry cake.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “Do you know how long I’ll have to exercise to work that off?”
“Surely, today of all days, you deserve something that makes you feel good even if it’s just for a few minutes.”
She doesn’t reply.
“That’s it then, I’m making it.”
An hour later, I’m back at the door with two bowls and a perfect dessert. I sniff it and I think my olfactory system is about to explode. I tap on the door and go in. Cat’s still in bed but she’s sitting up rather than slumped between the covers.
“Shove up then,” I say.
She looks at me as if I have two heads.
“Make room for me,” I say and gesture to the bed as well as I can when my hands are so full.
“You want to get into my bed? When I’m still in it?”
I plonk myself down on the bed and cut her a large slice of dessert. “Okay, so you’ve taught me how to do sit-ups, burpees, mountain-climbers, etc. I am going to train you in the art of having fun. So, this is how it works. We snuggle up …”
Cat recoils like there’s a tarantula in the room. “I am not snuggling up with anyone. I do not snuggle.”
I stare at her sadly. “Maybe that’s a step too far. How do you feel about my shoulder touching yours?”
She gives it some thought. “That might be acceptable.”
“Okay.” I peel back her duvet as she stares at me with suspicion. “So, this is how I hang out with my friends. First, we sit in close proximity.” I lean back next to her and I can almost feel her twitching.
“Okay? How’s that?”
“It’s weird but just about bearable.”
I hand her a bowl. “Then we eat. Try it.”
Cat takes the smallest bite imaginable.
“Try again. How’s that?”
She takes a deep breath.
“Well?”
Cat pauses. “It’s all right.”
“All right? It’s bloody well more than all right. Go on, this is one day when you can say what you really think. How do you feel when you eat it?”
She takes a full spoonful this time and savors it. Her face seems to soften. “How do I feel? Glorious.”
She starts to smile as I find myself grinning, too. I still have a raw place in my chest but I smile and feel the pain at the same time. “I’ll take glorious. And now, for the final step …”
“What’s that?”
“We watch Netflix. How do you feel about Gilmore Girls?”
“Who are they?”
I look at her in disappointment. “Oh, Cat. You have so much to learn. Now lean back, eat and enjoy.”
And that’s how we spend the afternoon.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Invisible Rule #16:
Girls are supposed to show more emotion than they feel; boys are supposed to hide all the emotion that they feel.
So, that’s all rather nice. It is good beyond ANYTHING to eat again without feeling stressed about calories or losing weight. But nothing else is okay.
My phone buzzes on and off all day. Every time I snatch it up, thinking it will show Matt’s name in glowing letters. But it never is him. I spend hours reviewing the gig. The rehearsal. How right his skin felt the few times I touched it. How he stared into my eyes and laughed long and hard at what I said. But then, like a video clip I can’t erase no matter how hard I try, there’s Zara, standing in the open door. In the end, I turn to what generally cheers me up: food. I skim through all my old posts about the great things that I’ve cooked and see which one has the most likes.
I see one of my last ones — my favorite. The school made from gingerbread. It was only a few weeks ago, but it feels like a different girl posted that. Underneath it, my stupid comment. #thegirlwhoeatslife. More like the girl who’s eaten by life at the moment.
My thumb twitches as if to swipe ever onward but I’m drawn back to it. How did I feel when I wrote that? Well, great, in fact. Okay, I was angry at school and Mum. But at least I knew who I was.
Maybe the old Jess wasn’t so bad after all? She certainly liked herself more.
My phone buzzes but I turn it off. It’s just tormenting me now. Nothing good is going to come from that phone today.
But tomorrow, I’m going to start making happier choices and then I’ll see what happens to my battered heart.
Next morning, it’s dark and wet outside, so I stay in bed as long as is humanly possible.
Mum stands outside my room and hollers.
Then the door shuffles open and small footsteps whisper over the floor.
Mum’s played her key card — Lauren.
The light blazes on.
“I can’t see you,” Lauren says.
“Turn off the light,” I say, “it hurts my eyes.”
“You should go to the doctor’s then,” she says. “You’re not normal. You must be part girl, part vampire.”
I pull the duvet over my head.
Like a trained torturer, she rips it back. She’s four — how did she learn all this?
“You are annoying,” I say.
Her bottom lip sticks out and it starts to quiver.
Tears start to roll down her cheeks. “Alice doesn’t love me, and now you.”
I can’t take any more. “Okay,” I say, “I give in.” I sit up. I mean, I’m not going to sleep now, am I?
And with that, she leads me downstairs as she shouts in triumph, “I got her up!”
In the kitchen, there’s an amazing sight. Cat is eating breakfast. Well, if you call a small selection of fruit breakfast, but even, this is the first time she’s been seen eating before twelve p.m. in a long while. Even Mum seems happy.
“Due to the intervention of the world’s most annoying child, I might have time for fluffy pancakes if anyone wants them?” I say.
Mum looks tempted. “I am doing Body Combat followed by Ultimate Spin so perhaps I can have half of one.”
“Knock yourself out and have a whole one,” I say. “Cat?”
“A very small one.”
“I shall make you a pancake only visible under a microscope.”
And off I go, whisking and whipping, and after a while, when everyone is around the table eating food, an old feeling just flickers up inside me. A moment of happiness. Just a twinkle, mind. But it’s there. That is enough to get me dressed and out the house for school.
But I don’t climb the small hill that leads me to St. Ethelreda’s with any enthusiasm. I refused to text or join any group chats about the party. As far as I’m concerned, I’d like to just delete it from history. I know Sana and Bex will want to hear every detail, but I’m not sure I can bear to go through it all again. And then there’s that little bit of drama that only two people know about. Alex and me. I’m definitely keeping that one to myself
for the moment. Think I’ll stick to exams and cooking.
Sure enough, as soon as I walk through the form room door, they crowd around me.
“Tell us everything. I’ve heard so many different stories.”
“Did Jack really dump Cat?”
“Did you really throw water all over Jack?”
I take a deep breath. “I was merely acting in accordance with concepts of universal justice.”
Hannah picks up my theme. “You mean it’s a truth universally acknowledged that idiot boys need to be doused in water?”
“Something like that,” I say.
Izzie asks, “How’s Cat? Do you want me to do a healing potion for her?”
“She’s had some of my pancakes today. That’s healing enough,” I return. “She’ll be okay. She’s best rid of him. He really didn’t treat her well.”
Bex is all big eyes. “At least she’s had a boyfriend though. Even if he was a rubbish one.”
I have to shut this down. “No. I think he’s really hurt her.”
Hannah backs me up. “You should have seen him. He just turned up with his ex draped round him. They were practically having sex in the kitchen in front of everyone, and Cat walked in.”
“She didn’t know before?” Izzie asks.
The old guilt turns in my stomach. “I had a suspicion. But that was all. I didn’t know for sure.”
“Would you have said something?” Sana says.
I shrug. “I like to think that I would. I would now. But at the time, I didn’t want to make her mad with me. We’ve only just started talking again.”
After a small silence, Bex says, “I saw a photo of Zara and Matt looking very close.”
“I missed that,” I say as lightly as I can. “But yeah, they seemed to go off together. Make a very good-looking couple.” I can feel Hannah’s and Izzie’s sympathy but I don’t want it. “Sorry, Bex, I didn’t snog him for you. Seems like I’m not his type.”
“Such a waste though.” Sana sniffs. “You can have the personality of a sewer rat, but if you’re good-looking, you get the boy.”
Rebel with a Cupcake Page 14
