Blue Jeans and Sweatshirts Page 16

  The entire time we were at the mall, she kept asking me what size I wore and whether I thought the stuff I tried on made me look skinny. I ended up not asking her to buy me anything, because I had the feeling it would come with the price of her making me eat more than I wanted to.

  Sunday night, we had a snowstorm, which meant no school on Monday. Mom and Dad still had to go to work, though, so I spent the day alone. I texted with Evan and Chastaine, but when Chastaine called me, I didn’t answer. I was kind of liking the whole peace and quiet thing.

  By Tuesday, the streets were cleared and the sidewalks kind of were, so school was back on. I thought about playing sick, not so much to avoid school as because I didn’t want to go to counseling. But I knew my parents would figure it out, so I trudged off through the snowbanks.

  The whole day, I was on edge. Even though I’d wanted to go to counseling, now that it was actually happening, I wasn’t sure it was a good idea. I’d already told Lorraine pretty much everything about myself. Since she was a counselor, she wasn’t supposed to judge me. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t afraid she would. Maybe she’d only been acting tolerant during my first appointment because it was part of the job or something.

  I was relieved when the last bell rang. I’d told everyone at lunch I had an appointment after school, so I didn’t waste time saying good-bye to them. I hurried to my locker to get what I needed, then up the street to the nearest stop for the town bus that went to the subway station a mile away in East Boston.

  I got to the counseling center at exactly three o’clock and thought I might have to wait, but Lorraine came out of her office as soon as I got to the top of the stairs. “Come on in, Holly.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late.” I was a little out of breath, and sitting in the chair in her office felt good.

  “You’re barely five minutes late. It isn’t anything to worry about.” She sat at her desk and started going through the folder. “What time do you get out of school?”

  “Two twenty-five.”

  “Let’s make your next appointment for three fifteen, then. Will that give you enough time?”

  I’d had enough time today, obviously, since I was there. But an extra fifteen minutes would mean I wouldn’t have to run, which would definitely be a good thing. “Yeah. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She made a note in the folder and closed it. “Tell me what’s been going on since we met last week.”

  I had to consider it before I answered. A lot had been going on. I barely remembered it all, and I wasn’t sure where to start telling Lorraine about it.

  “My friends and I started that support group I told you about,” I said finally. “We aren’t counseling each other, just talking and telling each other it’s okay. We’re trying to think of something we can do at school to help stop people from blaming victims. Kind of like they do rallies to support GLBT, and to support not using the ‘R’ word. Only we aren’t sure a rally would be a good idea, or that the school will let us do anything.”

  “Sometimes schools don’t want to cause problems for their students,” she said. “I think teaching people not to blame victims is important, but the school might worry that someone else would be triggered.”

  “Yeah.” I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe that explained why they’d refused to let us have the support group in the first place. “Anyway, so that happened. And one of the girls from the group, Natalia, is in the hospital. Or she was. I think she’s home now.”

  “What happened to her?”

  I shrugged. “Her teacher won’t tell me. He only told me she was in the hospital because I was standing right there when he found out, and her mother said it was okay for him to tell people that much. He said she has health problems, but he couldn’t tell me anything else because of confidentiality.”

  “Teachers are supposed to abide by that too.” She picked up her pen and pulled a legal pad in front of her. “How have you been doing with eating?”

  “I’ve been eating.” It was true. I’d been eating a little, the same as before, though I’d had a couple of days when I’d eaten enough that my parents had acted prouder than when I’d gotten straight As my freshman year.

  She looked at me. “I won’t push you to eat, Holly. I think you’ve had enough of that from your parents. But I will ask you to think about your health. I’d like to see what you weigh today, and then I’ll have you weigh yourself at each appointment. I need you to listen to me if I say you’ve lost too much weight in too short a time, because that can be dangerous.”

  I sighed. I wasn’t too thrilled about the idea of weighing myself, and I definitely didn’t want to have to do it in front of her every single week. But Mom and Dad had started the whole counseling thing because they thought I wasn’t eating the way I should have been, so of course Lorraine would want to know what I weighed.

  “Fine,” I said.

  She got up and took a scale out of the cupboard under her window. It was a little digital thing like Mom had, which made me a little less worried about stepping on the thing.

  When I stood on it, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I took off my glasses and cleaned them on the bottom of my shirt, then looked again.

  I’d lost twenty-three pounds.

  I hadn’t weighed that little since middle school.

  “Wow.” I couldn’t help saying it. “I didn’t realize I’d lost that much.”

  “How much have you lost?” Lorraine went back to her desk and wrote something in my folder. “I need to write down today’s weight so I can remember next week.”

  “Do you have to write down how much I lost?” For some reason, I had the feeling she wouldn’t think so much weight loss in a month was a good thing.

  “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

  I didn’t entirely believe her, but she was a counselor. They probably weren’t allowed to lie. “Twenty-three pounds.”

  She closed the folder without writing anything else. “And how long have you been losing weight?”

  “A few weeks. Like four or five.”

  “That’s a pretty substantial amount to lose in that time.” She put the scale back in the cupboard. “How do you feel about it?”

  “I think I still need to lose more.” She would probably assume that meant my parents were right about me having some kind of eating disorder or something, but I didn’t see the point in lying to her, especially when she hadn’t lied to me. “I mean, my clothes fit differently. I had to get rid of some things because they were too big, and some of the stuff my girlfriend gave me fits a lot better now.”

  “So you have noticed the weight loss in ways other than what the scale says.”

  “Yeah.”

  She sat down again and motioned for me to do the same, which I did. “Are you still having headaches and dizzy spells?” she asked.

  “Sometimes.” I didn’t really want to admit it. She would almost definitely use that as a reason I should start eating more.

  “That may mean you aren’t giving your body enough fuel.”

  Which was just another way of saying what I’d figured she would say. I shrugged again. “Maybe. I’ve been eating a little more. Like, instead of only having an apple for lunch today, I had part of a piece of cheese pizza too.”

  “That’s good.” She wrote something on the legal pad. “I’d like you to do something for me.”

  “What?” I wasn’t making any promises until I knew for sure what I was getting into.

  “Keep a food diary.” She went over to the cupboard again. “I have several small notebooks in here. They’d probably fit in your purse. You can take whichever one you want. I’d like you to write down everything you eat between today and the next time I see you.”

  I clenched my teeth. She had no right to ask me to do anything like that. She just wanted an excuse to make it seem like I was as messed up as my parents said.

  But if I refused, she would probably tell my parents I wasn’t cooperating, which wou
ldn’t be any better.

  “Who’s going to see it?” I asked.

  “I would like to, but if you don’t want to show anyone at all, you don’t have to.”

  I got up to look at the notebooks. Lorraine moved aside so I could see better.

  “What’s the point of writing down what I eat if I don’t show it to anyone?” I asked.

  “That’s up to you. It might help you to decide whether your eating habits are actually healthy.” She returned to her desk. “If you show me, I’ll only use the information to help you make a healthier meal plan. But this is your counseling, Holly. It only works the way you want it to, if you want it to.”

  “Oh.” There wasn’t much else I could say. I still didn’t see why I should write down everything I put in my mouth, but she was the professional. She probably knew what she was talking about.

  I chose a neon pink notebook with a turquoise feather pattern all over the front cover, because it reminded me of Evan. He always cheered me up, so I figured maybe seeing something that made me think of him would keep me from getting too irritated about keeping the diary.

  I sat down again and fidgeted with the spirals on the notebook. “I came out to my parents.”

  “Oh?” Lorraine looked surprised. “How did they respond?”

  “They aren’t thrilled to find out I’m a lesbian, but they didn’t flip out or anything. They just said it would take time to get used to.” And so far that was all they’d said about it. Since Thursday they hadn’t mentioned it at all.

  “How did you feel about telling them?”

  “I don’t know.” I paused. “People were saying stuff at school. The boy who I was fake dating told everyone I broke up with him, which I kind of did. I mean, we agreed to stop pretending, because he said everyone was starting to guess Chastaine and I are dating, and he said that meant they were starting to think he’s gay. Which he is, but he doesn’t want anyone to know.”

  “I think I remember you telling me that last week,” Lorraine said. “So because he told people you broke up with him, they took that to mean they were right about you and Chastaine?”

  “I guess so. Evan and Guillermo said they heard a few people saying things about us.” I was pretty sure I’d told her who Evan and Guillermo were, so I didn’t bother explaining. If she didn’t know, she could ask.

  “And you were afraid your parents would find out?”

  “Yeah. It’s a small town.”

  She nodded and made another note. “I understand you felt like you had to come out so your parents wouldn’t find out from anyone else. How did you feel when you told them?”

  “Afraid.” I said it without thinking, even though I hadn’t wanted to answer the same question a few minutes earlier. “Nervous. They were still mad at me for telling you they’d pushed me to come here last week, so I didn’t know if it would just give them one more thing to be mad at me about. But I was tired of hiding it.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “How did they know what you told me?”

  That sent my temper shooting up again. She should have known damn well how my parents had found out, since it was her fault. “You lectured my dad about not forcing me to come. He isn’t stupid.”

  “I’m sorry for causing problems for you.” She opened my folder and wrote something. “I’m making a note to remind myself that happened, so I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Um, thanks.” I’d expected her to defend herself, not agree with me, so I didn’t quite know how to respond.

  “You’re welcome.” She closed the folder. “I take it they weren’t angry when they found out you’re homosexual?”

  I shook my head. “Like I said, they told me they needed time to adjust. They haven’t talked to me about it since, so I don’t know how they feel. But they aren’t acting any different.”

  “That sounds positive.” She smiled. “I think you were brave to tell them.”

  “Thanks.” I paused. “Evan and his mom were there. They helped.”

  “It’s good to have support.”

  “Yeah.”

  The appointment wasn’t over yet, but for the rest of the time we just talked about food. She gave me some suggestions for high-protein, low-fat stuff that she thought I might like. I didn’t know whether I would actually eat any of it, but some of it sounded pretty good. I wrote a list in the back of the notebook so I could remember to ask Mom to buy it next time she went grocery shopping. She would probably be thrilled to have me actually ask for food.

  At the end of the time, Lorraine and I made an appointment for the following Tuesday, and I left. I just hoped Mom and Dad wouldn’t interrogate me this time.

  But when they got home, all they asked was whether the appointment had gone well. Then we had supper, watched TV, and I went to bed. I kind of felt like they were deliberately trying not to talk to me, but I didn’t want to ask, because I was afraid of what they might say.

  After school the next day, I went to Chastaine’s. I’d been trying to avoid it, partly because now that we were officially a couple, I wasn’t sure how to act around her. But I couldn’t turn down her invitations forever, and really, nothing had changed. It was all in my head.

  Her brother Andy was home when we got there, along with a couple of his college buddies. Chastaine ignored them, so I did too. We got bottled water and a package of pita chips out of the kitchen and went up to her room.

  “I can’t stand the guy with the red hair,” she said as we settled on her bed. “He’s a total misogynist. Like, every time I see him, he makes comments about my body and shit. Not when my brother can hear. Andy wouldn’t tolerate it.”

  “Have you ever told Andy what he said?” I opened my water and took a couple of sips.

  “Not yet. I just stay away from him.” Her eyes widened. “Damn it. I’m doing exactly what I keep saying people shouldn’t do. He got away with the stuff he said to me because I didn’t tell anyone else he said it, and he might be saying it to other girls.”

  “Maybe.” I agreed with her, but I didn’t want to sound pushy, so I kept quiet to let her figure it out on her own.

  “I’ll talk to Andy later. I’m not going to say anything in front of his friends.” She tore open the bag of chips. “Please have a couple of these. They’re really good.”

  “Okay.” All I’d had for lunch was a yogurt, so I could afford to eat a few chips. I would have to remember to write down how many in my food diary later, because I wasn’t about to take out that notebook in front of Chastaine.

  “Are you staying until it’s time to go to Tony’s for the meeting, or do you have to go home?” She lay down on her side with her head propped on her hand.

  “I’ll stay.” My parents knew I’d be going to Tony’s, and they probably wouldn’t be home anyway. Aunt Imogen and Shawn had invited them out to dinner again. I guessed that was going to be a regular thing, because Mom seemed really happy about it when she told me.

  “Good. I feel like we haven’t had a whole lot of time together lately.” She picked at a thread on her comforter. “We’re still together, aren’t we?”

  “Yeah, of course.” I looked at her, confused. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

  “Like I said, we haven’t been spending time together lately except at school.” She hesitated. “We both know people are talking about us. I don’t care what they say about me. The only time I’ve ever cared was with all the stuff about Jim and how I should die for ruining his life and shit. That got to me, because people were actually threatening me.”

  “People are assholes, and I’m glad they stopped.” I ate one pita chip because I’d promised her I would. “These are pretty good.”

  “Told you.” She flashed a smile, but it was gone quickly. “Anyway, I don’t care if people say I’m a lesbian any more than I cared when they said I was a slut. Even though I’m bi, not gay. But I don’t know how you feel about it, and I don’t want you to break up with me because of people talking.”

  “Why
are we even talking about this?” I asked. This wasn’t the confident Chastaine I knew. She almost sounded like she was about to cry.

  That didn’t make any sense to me. She’d never been exclusive with anyone before me, and I still hadn’t figured out why she’d picked me to be exclusive with. But that didn’t mean I’d be some huge loss for her if we broke up. She would simply move on and find another girl or a guy to date.

  “I kind of like having you around,” she said. “I didn’t want to do the boyfriend thing with any of the guys I hooked up with, but I like having a girlfriend. Maybe that means I’m not as bi as I thought. I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t even think you were bi until you started liking me,” I pointed out.

  “That too.” She chuckled. “Hell, I don’t know. Maybe I don’t actually need a label. But the thing is, I don’t know if I would want to be exclusive with a guy, but I like being exclusive with you.”

  “Thanks.” My face got warm. I wasn’t used to hearing things like that. “Um, I like it too.”

  “Good.”

  We didn’t say anything for a few minutes. I couldn’t think of any words at all. The whole conversation felt completely weird. I’d gotten used to thinking of her as my girlfriend, and saying she was made me happy. I liked kissing and hugging her, and when we got around to doing other things, I was pretty sure that would be good too. Assuming I ever worked up the nerve to try anything more with her. I definitely wanted to. Just not yet.

  “That girl Susie from Mr. Houseman’s class was talking to me at lunch,” Chastaine said finally. It was one of the days in our school’s messed-up seven-day schedule when she and I didn’t have the same lunch period.

  “What did she say?” I asked.

  “She’s friends with Natalia. She said Natalia has something wrong with her heart, and that’s why she was in the hospital.” She took a sip of water. “I guess it’s happened before. I mean, we don’t really see the Houseman kids a lot, so we wouldn’t have noticed, but Susie said Natalia ends up in the hospital a couple times a year.”

  “Wow.” More proof that even in our small town, people didn’t know everything about each other.