Running Lean (13 page)

What? She didn’t have any of those things. Yeah, she used some of the diet tips Zoe found on those pro-ana websites, and maybe she took it a little too far sometimes, but she didn’t have some kind of …
disorder
. How could Calvin say these things about her?

The note shook in her hands. She skimmed past the cold information, looking for something personal. Something real. Her eyes stopped at a bit of bold type.

Scripture—1 Corinthians 6:19–20, to be exact.

Not satisfied with science, Calvin threw God at her, like not only was she afflicted with a
disorder
, but she wasn’t being very Christian about it as well. Just because she didn’t go to church every single Sunday like he did …

At the bottom of this travesty of a letter, he’d typed, “Love, Calvin.” He couldn’t even sign his own name.

How could he even think these things about her?
Obsessive-addictive
… like she was crazy, on drugs, whatever. How could he?

And that Bible verse, like God was on Calvin’s side. If she found a Bible, she was sure she could find verses that said people shouldn’t be gluttons and shouldn’t judge. How would Calvin feel if she shoved those in his face?

Every muscle in her limbs ached, and her chest felt like a watermelon thumped there instead of a heart. A flood of tears would release the tension, but she wouldn’t reward Calvin’s note by crying over it. Stacey tore the pages into tiny pieces and let them fall into the toilet. She flushed and watched the paper bits swirl and disappear. Finally she snatched up her tackle box, wiped off the bottom, and scrubbed her hands with super-hot water at the sink.

She strode to the cafeteria. Today she would have a salad. And a burger. That would show Calvin she wasn’t starving herself.

Except he wouldn’t see it. He’d be sitting in his computer class thinking he’d done something good. He was fixing her, like he’d fix his motorcycle. Study the causes, get the parts, use the right tools, make it all the way it was supposed to be. The way
Calvin
thought it was supposed to be.

At Stacey’s table at the corner of the cafeteria, where she ate and studied and no one paid attention to her, she removed the burger from the bun, scraped off the ketchup, and nibbled the meat down to half. No sense turning into a blimp just to prove she wasn’t anorexic.

Calvin would not win this battle over her will. No way. No one could make her turn into Chubbikins again.

Stacey’s hands trembled and her heart fluttered as she turned the pages of a textbook. Stupid tears blurred the words. Cold, hard words. Like Calvin’s note. She slammed the book closed and covered her face with her hands.

I’m wasting my time if I don’t follow my heart
.

Noah’s words, and they were true. But what if her heart was torn between loving someone and her need to shed the ugly, bloated, painful past? To break free of the things that still oppressed her? To be in charge of her own life?

Noah Dickerson would understand those desires, for sure.

S
tanding on the sidewalk by the school parking lot, Calvin pulled a deep breath of cool, rain-scented air into his lungs and looked again at his watch. The buses would be rolling out of the bus lot on the other side of the building in less than a minute. Only a track star could run to catch one now.

None of the faces emerging from the building belonged to Stacey. None of the voices were hers.

He tugged his hair. Had his note been too much? Had he put in enough I love yous to soften the harsh reality?

Would she really make him walk home when those clouds threatened rain?

Calvin scanned the lot for her car. Any one of those pickup trucks or SUVs could hide the little blue Honda.

“Hey!” Arms wrapped around his shoulders, and someone’s weight on his back pulled him off balance. Strong, slender legs kicked past his knees. Skater shoes with no socks. Calvin teetered and shuffled to keep from falling. He turned and found Flannery giggling.

He breathed out a laugh. “Warn a guy, would ya?”

“What fun is that?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

Calvin rolled his shoulders to straighten his shirt. “Waiting for Stacey. She’s supposed to give me a ride home.”

“I’m riding with Tyler.” She grinned and rocked on her toes. “Riding with Tyler” had greater implications now than it had just a few days ago. “Is everything okay?” She tilted her head, but her giddy grin didn’t entirely disappear.

“Uh … I’ll find out soon enough, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

Calvin sighed and stepped closer to her. “I did some research, and I wrote her a note with some of the stuff I found—”

“You didn’t. Calvin! A
note
?”

“How else was I supposed to tell her—”

Flannery groaned and whirled around. “Dude, I can’t believe you. You wrote her … what, like a research paper? You’re supposed to talk to her. Hold her hand. Hug her.”

Heat rushed to Calvin’s head, dimming his vision, tightening his gut. “Okay, I’ve done that. I’ve been real nice and tried to drop hints and … whatever. It isn’t working. She doesn’t eat. The other day at my house she gave her entire meal to the dog. What else am I supposed to do?”

Flannery’s brows puckered. “She’s got to be eating something. Calvin, are you sure?”

“Positive.” Wanting to punch something, Calvin turned away from his friend and stared at the building.

Light flashed on a glass door as it swung open. Tyler held the door for Stacey, who frowned and said nothing as she walked through. Calvin stood straighter and pushed a smile to his face.

Stacey’s pace slowed as she met his gaze. Her face seemed the same color as the sidewalk and almost as inflexible.

Keep smiling
. “Hey. How’s it going?”

Her eyes shifted to Flannery, then she turned her head as Tyler strode past her.

“You okay?” Calvin asked.

“I’m fine.”

She looked anything but fine. Calvin swallowed against the worry that swirled in his gut and threatened to come up again. His armpits felt swampy. “What’s wrong?”

“Didn’t I just say I’m fine? Do you have to jump to conclusions all the time?”

Calvin jerked his head back as if dodging a slap. “Whoa. Excuse me for caring. You just look pale. Thought you might have a headache or something.”

She sighed. “No, I don’t. But I need to talk to you.
Alone
, please?”

Flannery grabbed Tyler by the arm. “Let’s go.” She shot a dark look at Stacey as she dragged Tyler down the sidewalk to the asphalt.

Calvin tugged his hair and half wished he could go with them rather than stay and endure Stacey’s emotional critique of his stupid note. “Guess you’re going to tell me I messed up.”

Stacey pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Her eyes drifted anywhere but toward him. “I’m not anorexic, Calvin. How could you even think that?”

Calvin blew out his breath. Should he argue with her?

“Anorexics starve themselves, okay?” Words spilled out of her. “I eat plenty. Just because I don’t want to eat burgers or catfish fried in … bacon grease or whatever doesn’t mean I’m starving myself. But you just don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to be called names because you’re fat, or to have people think you’re not worth getting to know or—or assuming you won’t amount to anything.”

“Yeah? That’s what you think? Well, I was fat once. Until I started riding my bike and getting more exercise. So I do know what it feels like. But you know what? Anyone who thinks someone is less valuable as a person because they’re overweight isn’t worth listening to.”

“Even if it’s your own father?” she blurted.

“What?”

Tears shimmered in her already red eyes. No makeup. That’s
why she looked so pale. Probably wasn’t the first time she’d cried that day.

Calvin’s gut clenched, and his anger teetered. He’d hurt her.

Stacey lowered her head, allowing her hair to fall forward like a curtain over her face. She mumbled something. Calvin lifted his hand but lost the will to touch her halfway toward her arm.

“I didn’t hear …” he said.

She sniffed and lifted her head, looking at the school building rather than at him. “I never told you this before. I didn’t want you to worry about me and treat me like … like I’m fragile or something. My mother does that, and I
hate
it.”

She stopped, and he waited. Two students walked behind her, staring at him like it was any of their business. He narrowed his eyes at them. The pair went on to the parking lot, leaving Stacey and Calvin alone.

Stacey raised her hand to her eyes as if to rub them, but her fingers trembled at her forehead, hiding her expression from him. “We moved here because … because …”

“Because of your sister. Because she was getting in trouble and things were getting bad in the area where you lived.” The words coming out of Calvin’s mouth felt false, although that was exactly what Stacey had told him before. Yet he knew. There was something more serious, and it had to do with Stacey. Otherwise she wouldn’t be crying now.

“My uncle. Mom’s brother. He … did things. Said things to me.”

Calvin’s heart stopped beating. At least it felt that way. “Did what? What did he do to you, Stacey?” His voice was too loud.

“I’m still a virgin, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Shoulders hunched, Stacey looked around, but no one was close enough to hear.

Okay, okay. Silence the panic. Don’t run for Dad’s shotgun yet. “What happened?”

“It’s really hard to talk about. Like, it’s my family, you know? But he’s … not right. Messed up in the head. He drinks too much. Daddy wanted to arrest him, but Mom begged him and, I guess, to keep our family together, Daddy transferred to Stiles County.”

Blinking, Calvin tried to process this information. “But what did he do to
you
?”

“He told me … he told me, that he liked … chubby girls. And if I ever wanted to … you know. And he stared at me. All the time.”

“Your dad should have arrested him.” Calvin could barely break his teeth apart to talk.

“He didn’t actually do anything illegal. Just … looked at me and said things.”

“And your parents were
okay
with that?”

“Calvin, he’s the only family my mom has left. She tried to help him with his drinking and stuff, but Daddy just got mad and—” A violent tremor ran through her, bringing forth a whimper. “We had to leave. We thought it would be better here. And … there’s more. But I can’t tell you right now, Calvin. I can’t. You just have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

Was that it? “So your uncle made a pass at you, and that’s why you don’t eat properly?”

“Calvin!”

“What? I’m trying to understand this.”

“No. Enough. Look, I was fifteen, and they yanked me away from everything I knew. They said, ‘we’re going,’ and we left. Renee didn’t want to, and neither did I. They wanted to lock us away where nothing bad would ever happen to us. But guess what? No one controls me anymore, Calvin. No one. Including you.”

He winced and shook his head. “I’m not trying to control you.”

“You are! Why can’t you just believe me when I say I’m okay? Why can’t you trust me?”

Calvin exhaled and looked at his shoes. “Okay, the note was a dumb idea. I’m sorry. But some of the stuff I read online—”

“You think I’m lying to you?”

“No.”

“You think I’m crazy? Is that it?”

“No.” Calvin ground his teeth on the word.

“Then what?”

“Prove me wrong, Stacey. Please.”

“How am I supposed to do that? Stuff my face and turn into a chunky bunny again? So only drunk old men are attracted to me?”

“Huh? No. No! But Stace, I don’t understand—”

She swiped her hand across one wet cheek. “Well, why don’t you look it up on the Internet. And by the way, maybe you should catch up with Tyler or you’ll be walking home.”

Calvin’s jaw dropped. Stacey hugged her purse beneath her crossed arms and tilted her chin upward.

He swallowed. “Seriously?”

Stacey’s face stayed hard even as another tear rolled down the side of her nose. She’d meant it.

Calvin groaned and rocked his head back to look at the sky.

“Better run. I see the Camaro, right over there.”

He jerked his head around. The bright red car slid between the parked vehicles, heading for the main driveway out. When he looked back, Stacey was already walking back toward the building.

“Fine! Whatever. See ya.” Calvin whirled and ran along the curb, his backpack hammering his shoulder blades. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled as Tyler turned toward the exit. “Ty! Wait!”

The Camaro’s tires skidded on the damp asphalt. Flannery opened the side door and stood. Calvin kept his eyes down, avoiding whatever scowl or look of shock she might be wearing as he crawled into the backseat.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said before either of his friends could voice a question.

Was it a breakup? Had he ruined everything? Had she confessed what happened in Rocky Mount only to show him what a jerk he was to say anything about the way she ate?

Calvin played with the straw in his Coke, studied the crisscross indentations in his forearm made by the metal mesh table at Oliver’s, and only half listened to the conversation going on between Flannery and Tyler. They should have just dropped him off at home.

After the fifth or sixth time, Flannery stopped asking him what had happened in the school parking lot. Instead, she gave him disapproving looks across the table, as if she blamed him.
A note? Really, Calvin?
And anyway, she probably wanted to be alone with Tyler so she could flirt with him.

Tyler made lame, forced jokes and sucked down his chocolate shake, like he was trying to make things normal, to break the literal ice between them.

Calvin stared at the few vehicles parked diagonally next to menu boards. A mom accepted food from a roller-skating waitress while three little kids bounced around in the back of her van. A man sat alone behind the wheel of a pickup with a magnetic sign on the doors.
General Jake’s Greenscapes
. General of what? A couple of jocks from school turned up the thumping music in their car, probably so they couldn’t hear the “oldies” crackling through the drive-in’s ancient ceiling speakers.

Calvin imagined a blue Honda Civic flying into the parking lot and screeching to a stop next to Tyler’s Camaro, Stacey jumping out
without closing the door and flinging herself into his arms. Tears and kisses, promises that everything would be okay.

He blinked, and the parking space was empty, shining with moisture from the earlier rain, a purple-and-blue oil slick in the middle.

Flannery’s cell phone chirped. She pulled it out of her pocket and read a text. “Well, here’s some good news for you, Calvin. My dad found your throttle cable. Says he should get it by the end of the week.”

Calvin closed his eyes. “Thank you, God.”

Empty prayer. Just something to say. He could be happy later.

“So, you’ll be able to fix your bike,” Flannery said without smiling. “Think you can keep it running until summer?”

“Flan,” Tyler muttered.

“Okay, sorry. But seriously. My parents are talking about going camping and fishing soon as school lets out. They were looking at some places, and we found one about four hours from here that has riding trails too. Badin Lake.”

Tyler slurped the last of his chocolate shake. “I’ve heard of that place,” he said, setting the cup down. “ATV and dirt bike trails. Some are supposed to be super hard.”

Flannery brightened. “Right! So I was thinking, maybe y’all could come with us. We could take the bikes and do some serious riding.”

“I’d rather do the motocross track than trails,” Tyler said. “We could go back to that MX track with the little cabins.”

“We can do that too! Go MX riding for a weekend, and go trail riding for like, a whole week.”

Calvin ground his fingertips into his eyes. Did they really expect him to think about summertime when he was on the brink of breaking up with his girlfriend?

“Cal? What do you think?” Flannery asked.

He dropped his hands to the table. “Dad probably wants me to work in the garage with him this summer.”

“You worked practically all spring break! He’s got to give you some time off this summer.”

“I guess.”

“You guess? I’m trying to cheer you up, dude.”

He sniffed. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Ugh! I hate it when you’re like this.”

“Flannery.” Tyler groaned, throwing his head back. “Can we not do this again, please?”

Calvin rattled the ice in his cup then thumped it on the table. “Right. Are y’all finished? I’ve got homework.”

“Cal …” Tyler got up when Calvin did.

“I’m bummed about Stacey, okay? Flan? Tell your dad thanks for finding the cable. And … I’m sorry.”

Flannery’s thumbs danced on the tiny cell phone keyboard. “Calvin … says … he’s … sorry …”

“What? No! I didn’t mean—”

“I’m joking!” She sent whatever her real message was and rose from the metal bench. The phone went back into the pocket of her shorts. “Look, I know you’re upset. Just don’t take it out on everyone else. Okay?”