Running Lean (5 page)

“
That
outfit? Pretty extreme for school. Maybe for a Renaissance fair or a play.” Still, the pattern began to form in Stacey’s mind along with calculations of how much fabric she’d need and what material would produce the flowing effect. Three yards of chiffon at least for the sleeves alone.

Zoe tossed the sketchbook onto the bed and got to her feet. “This’ll be great. What if we come up with designs together and make our own patterns, and then sell the clothes?”

“Then we wouldn’t be unique.” Stacey retrieved the sketchbook and slid it into the cubby of her nightstand.

“No, no, listen. Everyone will be copying us. We’ll be the trendsetters. We’ll rule that school.
And
we’ll have a nice fat portfolio that will get us into design school. I love this idea!”

It was easy to get caught up in Zoe’s excitement. The girl couldn’t wait to get out of Stiles County. A pleasant moan escaped Stacey at the thought of driving away, being in control of her life, chasing a dream. She had dozens of ideas laid out in her sketchbook,
combining sweeping lines of mythic fantasy with futuristic elements like Manga art.

“We should go on a research trip.” A humungous grin spread across Zoe’s face. “Not around here, though. In Raleigh. Check out the high-end malls. Hit the trendy shops. Get inspired.”

“Uh, Calvin’s house? Tomorrow?”

“Sunday, then.”

“Sunday is Easter. Mom’s probably going to make us go to church.”

“All right then! During the week while we’re off school.”

“I’ll have to check. I’m not sure Daddy will let me drive all the way to Raleigh.”

Zoe stomped her foot and turned her face toward the ceiling. “What is it with your dad? He’s so strict about
everything
.”

No arguing that; Daddy ran the family like a division of the police station. He was all about rules. In fact, he’d been so angry about her impulse decision to bleach her hair and put in pink streaks that he’d threatened to chop it all off. Maybe God was angry too, because in the shower this morning, dozens of hairs came loose in Stacey’s fingers.

Her cell rang on the bedside table. She gasped at the photo on the screen. “It’s Calvin.”

Zoe rolled her eyes, snatched a fashion magazine from the stack on Stacey’s bedside table, and collapsed cross-legged to the floor. Stacey grimaced and took the call.

“Hi-eee!”

“Hey, Stace. How are you feeling?” His deep, mellow voice was enough to make a girl sigh. It was the most attractive thing about him. That and his sparkling hazel eyes, Cupid’s-bow mouth, cherub cheeks …

“I’m fine. Much better.”

“That’s great. Want to go to the movies tonight with me, Tyler, and Flannery?”

“Ooh, I’d love to, but I can’t. Sorry. Zoe’s here.”

“Oh.” His voice dropped, turned the single syllable into three.

“But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. So what are y’all doing?”

“Talking about designing clothes.” She glanced at Zoe on the floor and wondered if the girl processed every word of her half of the conversation. Stacey eased toward her bedroom door. “So, um, what are
you
doing?”

He sighed. “My bike broke down today. Throttle cable. I don’t know how I’m going to get it fixed so I can ride at all this week.”

With a final glance at Zoe—who stared at a boring ad in the magazine as if it actually interested her—Stacey stepped out to the hallway. “I’m so sorry, babe. We can do something else outdoors if you want.” She ran her finger along the bottom edge of a picture frame in the hallway outside her room, straightening it.

“Yeah, but … not the same,” he muttered. “Maybe I can go over to Flannery’s house and borrow a bike. I don’t know, though. Her dad usually fixes the other bikes up in order to sell them in his shop.”

Flannery’s house?

He wasn’t asking her permission to go over there and ride around with that girl. It didn’t sound like he even wanted her opinion. He was just making his plans. Without her.

“M-maybe you can fix your bike,” Stacey said. “You’re good at that stuff. I’m sure you can fix it.”

“I need a new cable. I’m hoping Flannery’s dad can find one.”

He went on talking about cables and bike models and eBay and blah, blah, blah, as if he hadn’t just dumped the news he was going to spend time with another girl instead of Stacey during spring break. And he expected her to be okay with that? Stacey pressed her
forehead against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut. Tears trembled in their ducts. She couldn’t turn them on and off as easily as Zoe.

When Calvin stopped rattling about his motorcycle for a second, she said, “So, I’m just supposed to find something else to do this week?”

“What? No, of course not. I’m just thinking I’ll go over there one or two days. Although she doesn’t have trails like at my house—But you can come too! If you want.”

“I don’t ride a motorcycle, remember? What am I going to do while you’re having fun with—” With pretty, thin, exciting, everything-in-common Flannery.

“Stace, come on. I really want to ride this week. Just ride. I’ve hardly been able to get out on the bike all winter, and I’ve been looking forward to this week.”

That’s right. He’d been talking about it since before Christmas. He felt better whenever he could get out and feel the wind in his face, become one with nature or something like that. He could forget about Michael being gone for a while. How could she deny him that outlet?

Stuff the emotions. Get back in control
. “Never mind. It’s okay.”
Maybe it’ll rain
.

“We’ll get together plenty this week. You’re coming over tomorrow, right?”

She tried to put a smile in her voice to end the conversation. “Yes, I’ll be there. Two o’clock. And I hope you get the cable fixed. I know how much you love riding. But I should get back to Zoe before she repaints my bedroom walls.”

“Wait. There was, um, something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

Did he have another bombshell to drop on her? She pictured Calvin sitting on the front steps at his house, the phone drooping away from his jaw while he tugged at his hair.

“But I guess, since you’ve got Zoe there …”

“What is it?”

“Okay, I’m just going to say it. I’m worried about you, Stacey. I need to know what’s going on. This diet you’ve been on since, like, forever—I don’t think it’s healthy. You don’t need to lose any more weight.”

Ka-boom
. She
so
did not want to have this conversation with him.

“Really, Calvin? You know that for a fact, huh?” Did she really just talk that way to him? The words kept coming, though her heart jumped like crazy in her chest. “I’ll make you a deal. I won’t worry about you while you’re off riding around with Flannery if you don’t worry about me and what I eat.”

“Huh? That’s not—”

“I have to go, Calvin.”

“Stacey, I’m worried about your health.”

“I’m fine. I told you, I just got dizzy yesterday. It’s a female thing. It happens sometimes. Why can’t you believe me?”

He sighed. “I want to believe you. But—”

“I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” If she didn’t make an excuse not to show up. Stacey pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Okay.” Resignation softened Calvin’s voice.

Silence stretched to an uncomfortable length, and Stacey imagined Calvin pouting. It tore at her heart. She couldn’t be cruel to him. She made a kissing sound against the phone. “I love you, Calvin.”

“Yeah, love you too. Bye.”

He hung up. Too abruptly. He was unconvinced, angry, maybe thinking she was suddenly too much drama. Her cell phone pressed to her lips to stifle a sob, Stacey rolled her shoulder against the wall then slid down to the floor. Zoe waited in her room, her parents were downstairs, and Renee was … somewhere. At this moment
when she wanted to weep for everything that was going wrong with her boyfriend, someone was sure to ask questions. Calvin would never understand. Never. And what right did he have to judge her for anything when he was planning to hang out with another girl? So what if Flannery was a total tomboy. So what if Tyler was going to be there too? He’d probably say Flannery was a better fit for Calvin because they both rode those stupid, scary, dirty motorcycles.

“Stace? You okay?” Zoe stood at the bedroom door, looking down at her.

She sniffed, dragged her voice out of the hollow cavity of her wretchedness. “Not really. Calvin’s in a bad mood.”

“What’d he say?”

“Nothing much. His bike isn’t running and … we need to talk about some other stuff tomorrow.” Like how she could keep him in her life and out of her business at the same time.

Zoe knelt down and stroked her arm. “He doesn’t get it, does he?”

Stacey puffed out air, as close to a laugh as she could manage. One person did understand what she was going through. Zoe shared her secret, felt her desperation, and helped her through the wickedest temptations. Barely a word had to be said. Zoe
knew
.

“I don’t know what to say to him.” Stacey hugged herself and rocked away from the wall.

“Know what? If he can’t accept you for who you are, then—”

“I don’t want to lose him. I love him.” Fear and pain bashed through the well holding her tears.

But Zoe smiled. “Eww.” She draped her arms over Stacey’s shoulders. “But if that’s the way you really feel, we’ll work on it. I’m here for you, girl.”

Stacey pressed her face into Zoe’s tiny shoulder and cried.

A
breeze channeled through the front porch, ruffling Calvin’s shower-damp hair. The crisp air that was so welcome that morning as he worked with his father in the cotton field now made him shudder. Still limping from his riding mishap yesterday, he paced the porch from one rocking chair to the other, trying to get his emotions in check before Stacey’s arrival.

He couldn’t bring the exact words of their phone conversation back to his mind; they’d been lost as heat flared in his head. He remembered her voice, sharp, offended, both defensive and accusing. But he’d done nothing wrong! Why should she be so ticked because he was concerned about her? It wasn’t like he’d been hounding her with the questions. He was asking for the first time. And what right did she have to tell him who he could or couldn’t spend his free time with during spring break?

He remembered going up to his room and punching the air and growling at Tyler—though the guy would never know it—for being right about Stacey. Suddenly, after seven months of dating, Stacey decided to be jealous of Flannery. It didn’t make sense. And there
was
something going on besides female problems. She hadn’t gotten dizzy and passed out before. Not in seven months. So why now?

Five paces between one rocking chair and the other, passing the
front door again. Did anyone inside notice? And how was he supposed to act now? Pretend the conversation never happened or confront her with it? Calvin pivoted again and smacked the side of his fist into a post.

Michael hadn’t been around long enough to tell Calvin how to deal with this weird girl stuff. The Army took him to Afghanistan last summer, and God saw fit to take him to heaven. Calvin’s already anxious heart constricted at that thought.

He squatted down on the porch steps and clenched his head between both hands. So not ready. Not ready to face Stacey after their almost-fight last night, not ready to figure out what to do next.
Clueless
floated through his mind.

Maybe … maybe Peyton could help? Calvin twisted around to glance at the closed front door. Inside, his oldest sister was helping Mom get ready for Easter brunch tomorrow. Peyton always moaned that she wanted to lose weight, but when it came to the roast lamb and piles of desserts Mom would lay out tomorrow, Peyton would jump on the food like a hungry linebacker. Would she have any understanding at all of what Stacey was doing?

Tires crunched on the gravel driveway. Calvin turned back and got to his feet in one movement, watching as Stacey pulled her blue Honda up even with the grassless path that led to the porch steps. She smiled and gave a giddy wave before opening the car door.

Act normal. Nothing wrong. Just a little tension we’ll forget about tomorrow
. Calvin thumped slowly down the steps. He could play this game for a while. It’d give him time to watch her and see if her symptoms went away in the next few days, like a “female problem” would.

Stacey launched herself out of the car and bull’s-eyed his lips with hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and they swayed awkwardly on the dirt path. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was horrible to you last night.” She pressed her forehead against his. “It’s just that
Renee was fighting with everyone and Zoe was there … I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Oh
. “It’s okay.”
Not really, but—

“I feel really bad about what I said, and I want to make it up to you.” She slipped her arms down and grabbed one of his hands. “Come here.”

“Are we going somewhere?” Calvin asked as she pulled him toward the car. “I need to tell Mom if—”

“No. I have something for you. Sorry I didn’t have time to wrap it or frame it or anything.”

Which meant it was another of her poems or drawings. As Stacey bent inside her car to retrieve whatever it was, Calvin’s gaze traveled over her form. She was wearing another of her bulky sweaters, but the bagginess of her jeans raised a warning in his brain. He didn’t really pay attention to her clothes unless she pointed out something new she’d made, but hadn’t her jeans fit tighter before?

Calvin tugged his hair and took a step back.

She emerged from the car with a blue folder in her hand. Calvin held his breath as he opened it. An inked drawing inside depicted a male figure in heroic pose, wearing motocross gear and holding a helmet under his arms. His round face and curly hair were the only things that resembled Calvin at all, but she’d sketched those features with as much precision as any caricature artist would have. And the motorcycle behind him looked exactly, detail for detail, like his Yamaha. Yet he knew she hadn’t traced it. She could take a picture of something and copy it perfectly. At least he thought so. Beneath the drawing, Stacey had drawn comic-book-style letters spelling “Motocross Star.”

Calvin wanted to hug her until she couldn’t breathe. “Stace, wow. Just … wow. This is awesome. You’re so talented.”

She slipped her arm around him and hugged him sideways, her
hand pressed against his stomach. “Calvin, I know I shouldn’t be jealous of Flannery. I know you’re just friends. Forgive me?”

He closed the folder and squeezed her. Stacey’s perfume filled his nose and lungs, dizzying him. Closing his eyes, he wished he could draw Stacey into himself and live in the place where she loved him and he loved her and nothing else mattered. Where they were both normal and happy. Stacey was amazing. He didn’t deserve her. He was just a regular guy with a beat-up old motorcycle and no clue about where he was going in life. She was beautiful and talented, and maybe she’d even be famous someday for her art. She was a blessing to him, definitely.

How could he doubt her?

Calvin broke the embrace reluctantly. “When did you draw this?” he asked, moving toward the steps.

“This morning, after I took Zoe home.”

“This morning? Just this morning? Unbelievable! I was out riding in a tractor this morning getting the field ready for planting.”

Stacey giggled. “I thought I smelled something. L’air du turf, maybe?”

“Hey! I took a shower.”

She squeezed his arm as they mounted the first step. “Not you, silly. The air is rich with the aroma of the earth and bovine manure.”

He snorted. “Nice try. But we don’t fertilize cotton with manure.”

They went inside, where the smell of turned, sandy soil was replaced by the aroma of something wonderful in the oven. The air was warm to the point of feeling thick, yet for some reason Calvin’s two younger brothers were still inside, bashing Transformer figures together in an epic—and loud—battle for galactic domination. Eight-year-old Zachary climbed on top of the coffee table and launched an attack from above, voicing dive bomb and explosion noises. Jacob, two years younger, protested that Zach was cheating and shimmied under the table to escape. Peyton, holding Baby
Emily’s wrists to keep her from getting in the way, yelled at Zachary for getting on the table. Zach responded by scrambling onto the couch instead.

Typical day in the Greenlee house.

Mom shuttled around the corner from the kitchen, all smiles and arms open wide to greet Stacey. “How you doing, baby girl? It’s so good to see you!”

Calvin stood back while Mom smothered his girlfriend. Mom loved Stacey. In fact, she loved just about anyone who entered her house. “Loving on people” was her solution to all the world’s problems. It was also her form of escape from her own problems, Calvin thought. Since Michael’s passing, and after a period where all she did was cry at the slightest prompting, Mom poured herself into caring for everyone, to the point where she was almost manic about it. She was happy when she kept herself busy being the perfect wife, mother, and host. Miserable when she wasn’t able to do that. Still, Mom had told Calvin that Stacey was just the kind of girl he needed.

So why, as he watched Mom compliment Stacey’s new hair color, did Calvin’s warm, fuzzy feelings give way to a sense that he was being manipulated? He looked at the blue folder in his hand. She’d done the drawing to say she was sorry … so he wouldn’t ask her again about her diet.

As Mom turned away from Stacey and glanced at him, Calvin saw a flash of some darker emotion cross her features. Concern? Disapproval? She turned it off too quickly for him to decipher it. “Calvin, honey, would you and Stacey be good enough to watch the baby for a little bit? I need Peyton to run to the store for me. I forgot to pick up currants when I went shopping.”

“Mom,” Peyton whined, sitting in a chair by the front window while trying to hold on to Emily and a bridal magazine at the same time. “His girlfriend just got here. I don’t know why you do this all
the time. Whenever Ryan comes over, that’s the time you figure out something you need me to do.”

“Stacey is practically family. She doesn’t mind. Do you, sweetie? Just while Peyton goes to the store?”

Calvin shook his head while Stacey agreed. It wasn’t that Mom wanted to interrupt the time he spent with Stacey, or the time Peyton spent with her fiancé, Ryan. It was just that Mom was always busy, and she extended that busyness out to everyone else.

Zach jumped off the couch, chasing Jacob upstairs, and Calvin slumped down in his place. He rotated his sore ankle while Stacey sat beside him. She took eighteen-month-old Emily into her lap.

“Are you hungry, Stacey?” Mom asked, pausing at the wide arched entryway to the dining room. “We had lunch just a bit ago, but I can fix y’all some snacks, if you want.”

“Oh, no thank you, Mrs. Greenlee. I ate lunch right before I came. Besides, it smells like you’ve got enough things cooking in there. Don’t bother fixing anything for me, please.”

Of course she’d say that
.

Mom disappeared, and Calvin watched Stacey bounce the baby on her knees. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Over and over. Emily giggled and squealed, but if Stacey didn’t stop soon, she’d find herself with a lapful of barf.

That’ll give her a reason not to eat
.

Calvin looked at the drawing again, trying to recapture the joy it had given him, then slid the folder carefully onto the coffee table.

“Ah b-b-b-brr!” Stacey rubbed noses with Emily, the baby’s chubby wrists held secure in her slim fingers. Finally she stopped moving, her quickened breath whispering through her smile. Her green eyes sparkled in the sunlight streaming through the front windows, tiny rectangles dancing in them as Emily jiggled on her lap.

Healthy eyes. Bright, honest smile.

He really needed to get over it. He’d misjudged her and was
causing trouble between them when she was only having some kind of monthly trouble, like she’d said.

Calvin grinned back. “I can’t believe you did that drawing in one day.”

She lifted her shoulders in a cute, exaggerated shrug. “You like it?”

“It’s awesome. I’m going to ask Mom to pick out a frame for it.”

She nibbled her lower lip in delight as her knees bounced again.

Calvin moved closer to Stacey and lifted the baby off her lap. “Down you go, Emmy. My turn to play with Stacey.” He set his little sister on her feet, gave Stacey a quick kiss, then rescued the drawing as Emily palmed her way around the coffee table.

Mom came back into the living room carrying a peach-colored stoneware plate in one hand, and a lime green one in the other. “Thought y’all might like a snack,” she said, setting the plates on the coffee table.

Chocolate chip cookies covered the peach plate, while on the green plate Mom had arranged apple slices in a neat star pattern around a little cup of caramel sauce. Mom gave an apple slice to Baby Emily, then shot an imploring smile at Stacey.

“Apples, honey. Fresh from the store yesterday. Good for you. And those cookies? Baked them myself from scratch last night.”

Stacey seemed to shrink into the sofa a little. She fingered her hair, pulled a hunk of it in front of her mouth as if to make a protective screen against the food. Her trembling embarrassment overflowed onto Calvin. His mother wouldn’t come out and say that Stacey was too thin. She’d just provide the solution coated in sweetness.

Stacey brightened. “Wow, Mrs. Greenlee. You made those last night and you’re cooking again today? Do people around here ever let you sleep?”

Mom grinned. “Feeding a family this size takes a lot of doin’. I
get my reward when people enjoy what I make. So you enjoy those cookies!”

She hustled away, and Calvin felt like giving a low whistle. Mom had put Stacey in a tight spot. Eat, or insult. Calvin reached for a cookie and bit into it. He wiggled his eyebrows in appreciation.

Stacey stared at him. The trembling sensation Calvin had picked up on a moment ago increased, like a low current of electricity vibrated between them. He mostly felt his own nervousness, but a flicker of movement in her eyes, and an unsteady whisper of a breath passing between her lips, showed the tension wasn’t his alone. They were locked in an unspoken standoff.
I’m watching you. Eat the cookies
.

He’d happily be wrong about her, if only she would eat.

Stacey pulled herself up from the corner of the couch at last, and reached out to take a cookie from the plate. She nibbled at it, confessed softly that it was indeed good, and actually finished it. She followed it with an apple slice, while Calvin held her hand on the cushion between them and privately rejoiced.

He was just about to sneak a little closer to Stacey, maybe steal a kiss, when Peyton let the front door slam as she left for the store. With that, chaos broke loose inside. The boys upstairs yelled, sounding as if the pretend galactic battle had become a little too real. Mom called Lizzie’s name three times before the girl snapped, “What?” Somehow Scamp slept through the noise, curled into a tight ball in his bed beside the television. And standing in front of Stacey with one hand on her knee for balance, Emily munched another apple slice, juice and baby saliva dribbling down her chin and glistening on her pudgy fingers.

“Did you polish that silver platter like I told you to?” Mom asked Lizzie from the kitchen.

“Mo-om, I’m … on the computer with—”

“You can get off the computer.”

“Calvin’s got his girlfriend over. Why can’t I spend time with my friends?”