“Yeah, what’s the rush?” asked Manda.
The room was filling up with other ballet students. “I need some fresh air,” she said, waving at the girls. She purposely kept moving, otherwise one of them might call her back. Might try to get to the bottom of what was going on in her head. She had to avoid more conversation at all costs.
* * *
Heather headed straight to the mall ice rink, taking time to warm up again before ever going out on the ice. Her knee still required special attention after the fall last Friday. So she spent extra time—more than usual—stretching her quad muscles. They were the muscles that began just below the outside of her hips, ending just below her knee.
She stood erect and tilted her hips backward just a bit. Then, lifting her right knee so her right thigh was parallel to the floor, she grabbed her ankle with her right hand. She went through the exercise process, repeating the quadriceps stretch several times on both sides. Careful not to bounce or stretch at all in short surges—because bouncing can tear muscles—she used constant pressure during the fifteen-second segments. Then she rested, only to repeat the stretch.
On the ice now, she stroked forward on the inside edge of her right skate, several times around the rink. Other skaters were practicing, too. Some of them were Natalie Johnston’s beginning skaters. Natalie was not only the best ballet teacher around, she also taught a few skating classes in Alpine Lake.
Since bruising her knee, Heather knew she needed time on the ice, limbering up again. She wanted to get back her confidence. Kevin’s words—“If you weren’t so heavy”—still rang loudly in her ears.
“Hey, looking good!” one of Natalie’s students called to her.
She waved to the boy across the ice. It was Micky Waller, Natalie’s best male free skater. How long had it been since a cute boy had said something like that to her? On the ice, no less?
So . . . her idea to cool it with eating was paying off. In fact, Micky was actually still smiling at her from across the rink. Really grinning now as he turned and skated toward her.
Nice run of blade, she thought as he powerfully stroked, looking like a top-level skater—well balanced and flowing well over the ice. She wondered how long Micky had been training with Natalie.
“Haven’t seen you for a while,” he said, falling into rhythm with her.
“I’m here nearly every day,” she said. “How about you?”
“Me too.”
She wondered what Kevin would think when he showed up. Mom and Dad weren’t exactly thrilled about her hanging out with boys. Her parents were pretty strict about the boy-girl thing. She figured she wouldn’t be dating till she was twenty-five or older. At least, that’s how Dad joked about it.
Micky was close to Kevin’s age, she was pretty sure. And she wasn’t so much interested in him as a friend as she was curious. He’d singled her out from all the other girls on the ice just now.
Skinny is beautiful, she thought, determined to lose even more of her excess weight in the coming days and weeks.
Obviously, Micky had noticed. How long before Kevin and Joanne did, too?
At the rate she was going, she could drop to a size zero in the blink of an eye. And she would. Nothing could stop her now.
Photo Perfect
Chapter Seven
She should’ve known.
Heather got into it with Mom the second she pushed back from the table after only a few bites of sirloin steak, rich gravy, and baked potatoes.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Mom’s frown lines grew deeper by the second.
“I’m full.” She hoped her excuse would fly. If not, she had no idea what she’d say or do next.
Dad looked puzzled from his end of the table. Now he was getting in on the question thing. “Heather, are you ill?”
“Just full, Daddy.”
“It’s not like you,” Mom insisted.
Joanne stared across the table, her little eyes peering at Heather. She was only slightly taller than the table. Usually, they had her sit on the telephone book or other stacked books. Tonight, though, Joanne looked like a midget. “If Heather worked out enough, she’d be hungrier,” came her little voice.
Tommy began nodding his head, joining in the campaign.
“What do you know about working out?” Heather shot back.
“Mommy!” whined Joanne.
“That’s quite enough, young lady,” Mom directed her rebuke to Heather.
“What did I say?” Heather was fed up. She wanted to leave the table, but she tried not to lose it in front of Dad. Her father liked a peaceful atmosphere at mealtime.
Mom’s expression turned from a frown to a pretend scowl. She stood there, scrutinizing Heather. “Who are you, really, and what did you do with my daughter?” Mom quipped.
Tommy looked completely confused, then started to laugh.
“Yeah, what did you do with my big sister, Heather, who used to like to eat?” Joanne asked, giggling a little till Dad intervened.
“Let’s get back to the business of supper,” Dad said firmly, yet softly. “Your mother made a terrific meal.” He looked over at Mom, winking at her. “Thanks, dear.”
Mom merely nodded, still looking a bit frazzled. “Save room for some delicious no-fat frozen yogurt for dessert,” was all she said.
Yogurt, either low-fat or no-fat, did not sound very appealing to Heather. She wished she could excuse herself and get a head start on Mom’s hefty history assignment before the prayer service tonight at church. But she thought better of it, staying put. The last thing she wanted to do, judging from her parents’ serious expressions, was cause another ruckus.
* * *
Heather was more than miserable during the Bible study and prayer meeting. Kevin took Joanne and Tommy off to the children’s classes. Her older brother had been assisting the junior boys’ group recently.
Their youth pastor was out of town, so the teens and preteens were stuck in the main service with the adults. Several other kids were sitting with their parents, slumped down in the pew like it was some horribly hideous thing.
She was smarter than that. Besides, Dad had shown his disapproval after supper. He’d made it obvious to her by hanging around the kitchen while she and Mom and Joanne cleaned things up. It was like he didn’t trust her or something. Maybe he thought she was going to continue the scuffle with Mom in the privacy of the kitchen.
Well, she had no intention of keeping the conflict going. Mom was behaving like a good mother, encouraging Heather to eat and enjoy her great cooking. How could that be Mom’s fault?
So here they were, all lined up in the church pew. Dad, Mom, and her. Of all the nights for youth group to be canceled. She’d have to grin and bear it, because she wouldn’t risk catching Dad’s eye during the Bible study or prayer. She knew better. She also knew how to conduct herself in church, whether Wednesday night or Sunday morning. She’d been raised in this church, attending nearly every time the doors were open.
Yet this evening, she felt she was only partially present. Sure, she was sitting there, hearing the minister expound on one of the epistles, the apostle’s letter to a church in Corinth. But her heart and brain were elsewhere. She could hardly wait to drop by Dottie Forster’s Boutique tomorrow. Maybe she’d ask Dottie if she needed the teen magazine, the one with the skinny models. If not, maybe Dottie would let her borrow it. She really hoped so. She wanted to compare her ankles and other parts of her body with the very thin girls in the fashion section.
“ ‘Godliness has value for all things . . .’ ” Their pastor’s words, a direct quote from the Bible, took her off guard. She’d read precisely the same thing in her own devotional book a few days ago. What was going on?
* * *
After church, there was a message on their voice mail. She could hear Livvy’s voice, but it sounded strange . . . far away. “Is something wrong?” she asked Mom.
“Not that I know of.” Mom came over and listened to Livvy’s message. �
�I see what you mean, though. Does sound a bit garbled.”
For a second, Heather wondered if Livvy was sick. But when she called her, Heather discovered a bubbly friend waiting by the phone. “You’ll never guess what,” Livvy said.
“What’s going on? You sound breathless.”
Livvy laughed softly. “This is really amazing.”
“What is?”
“Micky Waller—remember him?—wants to give you a call.”
Heather sucked in her breath. “What?”
“Yeah, I ran into him at the mall rink late this afternoon,” Livvy said. “He asked me for your number.”
She groaned inwardly. “Uh, you didn’t just give it to him, I hope.”
“That’s why I’m calling you, silly,” Livvy replied. “So . . . what should I do?”
She had to think about that. “Better not . . . at least for now.”
“How come?”
Glancing toward the living room, she spied Dad sitting in his easy chair, reading a magazine. “I just better not,” she said more softly.
“I don’t get it. Micky just wants to talk to you.”
“I know, but it’s a mistake. Bad timing.”
“Know what I think?” Livvy wasn’t giving up.
Heather fell silent, not too eager to hear what was on her friend’s mind. But she listened.
“Heather, you still there?”
“Go ahead. I’m listening . . .”
“I think Micky’s really cute,” Livvy said. “You’d be crazy not to let him call you.”
Heather sighed. “Maybe what he really wants is your phone number.”
“I don’t know. To tell you the truth, my dad’s dragging his feet about me starting to talk to boys on the phone. And Grandma Hudson would probably hit the roof.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Livvy volunteered. “Liking boys can get very distracting.”
“Right. We both have too much work to do . . . to reach our skating goals. There’s really no time for boys.” She’d said what she really believed.
Just maybe Dad was—right now—overhearing her end of the conversation. What she’d said about boys might earn her some points. After all, she needed to do what she could to make up for behaving badly at supper.
* * *
After she hung up, she tried to slip upstairs to her room without being noticed. But Dad called to her just as she reached the hallway. “Heather, do you have a minute?”
“Sure, Daddy.” She bounded into the living room, sitting across from him on the sofa.
He put his magazine away, sliding it under the coffee table. “I’m glad we have this chance to chat,” he began. “Your mother and I are concerned. You ate very little today—far less than usual. Is something upsetting you?”
She wouldn’t unload on him, spill out the remarks that had gotten her thinking about her weight in the first place. Dad wouldn’t be interested in either Joanne’s or Kevin’s comments, either. “I’m fine,” she said.
He leaned back in his chair. “You can say you’re fine, but I think there may be something behind all this.”
“Like what?”
Dad was smiling. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
Just then, Mom came into the room. She was carrying the stack of professional photo proofs. Sitting down, she suddenly looked very tired as she shuffled through them. “I hope your not eating doesn’t have anything to do with these wonderful pictures of you and Kevin,” Mom said softly.
What could Heather say?
She noticed the dark circles under her dad’s normally bright blue eyes. Tonight, his hair was a bit disheveled. Maybe from raking his long fingers through it while Heather was talking nonsense on the phone with Livvy. Yep, that’s probably what was bothering him.
“I don’t want either of you to worry,” she said, getting up. “I’m feeling just great.”
“But you’re pale,” Mom said, reaching out her hand.
“I feel fine.” She didn’t really feel all that terrific, but there was no turning back now. She was on track to reach her goal—do or die.
Photo Perfect
Chapter Eight
Dottie Forster’s eyes actually lit up when Heather strolled nonchalantly into the beauty salon after homeschool hours. “What can I do for you, cutie?” asked the middle-aged beautician.
“Just thought I’d check in.” Heather eyed the magazine rack, hoping Dottie wouldn’t notice. “Everything cool here?”
“Always.” Dottie turned the gray-haired woman who was getting a color. The client faced away from the mirror. “Need a trim?” asked Dottie.
“Sometime, just not today.”
“Okay. Call me whenever.”
Heather sat down, picking up the first magazine she saw. “Mind if I sit here?”
“No problem, and help yourself to some magazines,” Dottie said. “I get so many piled up here . . . lots of them are out-of-date, too. Take them, if you like.”
Mom had always said that Dottie had been around the block more than once. Was this evidence of her perception? Could Dottie tell by the look in Heather’s eyes that she was on the lookout for that one special teen magazine?
Wow, and I thought Mom was bad. . . .
She sat there reading one monotonous magazine after another. At last, she finally found the courage to pick up the one she really wanted. She looked at the date. Too bad, it was the March issue, the current month. Dottie wouldn’t be ready to let this one go. But Heather asked anyway.
“Hmm, let’s see,” Dottie said, coming over. She thumbed through the magazine, never hesitating on the article that had caught Heather’s attention. “Sure, take it. I have plenty of teen mags floating around here.”
Heather was overjoyed. “Are you sure?”
Dottie waved her hands. “I’m sure . . . I’m sure. Hey, enjoy.”
* * *
All the way home, she stared at the lanky models—six pages worth. The girls were all very tall. Lots taller than she was. But then, she knew she still had several years left to grow. Being tall was a major plus in the fashion circles. But being not only petite but short gave a skater somewhat of an advantage. “You’re closer to the ice,” Livvy’s grandmother liked to say.
Kevin had often told Heather that, too. “The closer you are to the ice, the softer the fall.”
Her response was to laugh it off. Now she wasn’t sure. Height gave a girl the lean lines Heather longed for. Both Dad and Mom were fairly tall. And Kevin was starting to shoot up, too. So there was hope for her.
Nearing her house, she rolled up the magazine and stuffed it into her backpack. No need to share this with Mom. She’d freak for sure, figure that Heather had gotten the notion not to eat merely from these skinny models. Well, maybe that had started the ball rolling, but there was much more to it. More than Heather cared to discuss with her mother. Or anyone.
* * *
Finishing off her homework, Heather rushed to the basement. Her parents had set up a workout area there for her and Kevin especially. Dad used it often, though. Mom too. And sometimes she saw Joanne there trying to lift the smallest weights.
“Physical training is of some value,” the Bible verse stated.
She decided to set the treadmill for forty-five minutes this time, upping the amount of time by fifteen minutes. Each day, she planned to increase her time. No longer was she satisfied with her performance. She felt compelled to push harder, go farther, work longer.
I can get as thin as those models, she thought. I can!
She visualized herself as one of the girls in the magazine. Sporting the sleek, thin jeans and tight boots. Yeah, she could fit into a size nothing real soon.
When Mom called, Heather scarcely heard. Joanne came running downstairs to alert her. “Mom’s been calling. Didn’t you hear?”
“Huh?”
“Mom wants you to make the salad. Hurry!” The younger girl turned and left the room.
Heathe
r had spaced out on the time completely. Gone past her set time on the treadmill. She was actually beginning to love this workout regimen. Besides that, Coach McDonald would be pleased when he realized how terrific her stamina was.
Tomorrow she would check herself on the ice. Surely, the additional exercising would benefit her skating. Not to mention getting her slimmed way down.
She went to make the vegetable salad for Mom. Then, when she was finished, she climbed the steps to the second floor. She was surprised to see Joanne coming out of her private domain—Heather’s bedroom. Actually, it seemed that she’d caught her little sister in the act of something. Just what, she didn’t know. “What’re you doing in my room?” she demanded.
“Oh, nothing.” Joanne shrugged her shoulders innocently enough.
“Right . . . nothing. You keep saying that.” Heather took the last three steps with a single bound. She towered over her little sister. “I know you were in my room.”
“I just borrowed something, that’s all.”
“Borrowed what?”
Joanne shrugged again, tilting her mischievous little head to the side.
“C’mon,” Heather urged.
But Joanne shook her head silently.
“So you’re not going to tell me? Is that it?” She was mad. “I won’t play twenty questions with you. You’d better tell me now or . . .”
How far should she take this? If Mom was witness to this exchange, they’d both be in trouble. They’d been taught to respect not only each other’s privacy, but to treat each other with esteem. “Where’s Mom?” she asked, curious.
Joanne shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do,” she shot back. “And you know you’re not supposed to snoop in my room or anyone else’s. So . . . Mom must be downstairs somewhere.”
Tommy emerged from his own bedroom, a Lego creation in his hand. “Mommy’s in the family room.”
Girls Only! Page 16
