Blue Jeans and Sweatshirts Page 4

  “Yeah.” She walked off.

  “She’s pissed,” Marcus said. “Is something going on with you?”

  For a second, I froze. I didn’t know whether he meant me specifically, or me and Chastaine, and either way I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want anyone knowing how little I ate when I had the choice, and Chastaine and I had agreed to keep our relationship secret from our families for now.

  “Everything’s cool,” I said through insanely dry lips. “And I’m cold.”

  He shook his head. “Okay. Fine. Come on, then.”

  Chastaine was already at the car. Marcus used his keychain to unlock it, and Chastaine got into the front passenger seat, where I couldn’t sit beside her. Now I knew she was angry with me.

  I got into the backseat behind her and rested my head on the cold window, which helped me feel a little less dizzy. The whole way back to her house, no one said a word.

  No matter how much I didn’t want to eat, I would have to have something, or Chastaine would get even more pissed off.

  If I could have skipped another meal, I would have, but I’d made a promise to Chastaine, and she was already upset enough. Losing weight wouldn’t be worth anything at all if it meant losing her.

  Chapter 3

  BY THE time I finally went home, everything between Chastaine and me seemed okay. I had a little bit of lasagna and half a piece of garlic bread at her house, which shut her up about me not eating. The food was a lead weight in my stomach, but I would have to deal with it and make sure I didn’t eat much for supper.

  Mom and Dad weren’t even home for supper. My aunt Imogen—Evan’s mom—and her boyfriend asked them out on a double date. Ordinarily Evan would have come over or I would have gone to his place, but he was doing “homework” with Guillermo, so I stayed home alone.

  Which was fine, because it meant no one was around to see that the only thing I ate was a few spoonfuls of applesauce. I went to bed before my parents got home, with my stomach growling but feeling triumphant because I’d controlled myself instead of letting all the junk food in the house get to me.

  When I got up the next morning, I found texts from Chastaine on my phone.

  Sorry about earlier. Scares me when you don’t eat. I want you to take care of yourself.

  A few minutes later, she’d sent Either you’re mad or sleeping. Hope it’s sleeping. Call or text when you get this.

  And then, Talk to you soon. Good night.

  I felt guilty for not answering, even though she’d sent them after I’d gone to bed. That wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t text in my sleep. But usually she only sent one text and then let it go if I didn’t answer. Her sending three texts meant she was worried. And Chastaine didn’t worry about much.

  It was only about six thirty, so she probably wasn’t awake yet, but I sent my answers so she’d see them when she woke up. Parents were out last night so I went to bed early. Not mad. And I do take care of myself.

  The last sentence sounded argumentative, so I deleted it before I sent the text. Then I took my shower and got dressed for the day, in my usual type of outfit, because the stuff I’d brought home from Chastaine’s was still in the bags.

  I seriously needed to clean out my closet and bureau, but the idea of getting rid of all the clothes I’d gotten so comfortable with bothered me.

  Chastaine texted me right after Mom and Dad left for work. Glad you’re not mad. I’m a bossy bitch sometimes. Can I come over? Want to see your closet.

  My chest got tight. I hadn’t had time to rearrange things, and I would probably need a full day to do it. She would see that I hadn’t even tried to put away all the stuff she’d given me in the past month, and I still had a wardrobe full of the kind of clothes she kept telling me I shouldn’t wear. She would probably get mad all over again.

  I couldn’t tell her I didn’t want her seeing the mess I’d made of the clothes, though, so I texted back, Yeah, maybe we can get hold of people about the support group while you’re here. Make plans.

  After I see your closet. We’re doing wardrobe makeover.

  I tried to come up with a way to argue without sounding like I was arguing, but before I could think of anything, she texted again. Maybe ask Evan over too. He’s better with fashion than I am. Don’t want you to dress like me just because I say so.

  That relaxed me a little. With Evan around, even if Chastaine did get mad at me, she’d be less likely to show it. And he would be able to get her to chill out.

  Besides, Evan should be part of the support group, so having him there to help make plans would be a bonus. He was a good person, and he gave a crap about others. He would want to help.

  I’ll text him. Maybe come over around eleven, because he sleeps in a lot.

  Sounds good. See you then. Eat breakfast.

  I didn’t bother answering that one. She was right. Sometimes she was a bossy bitch.

  I didn’t bother following her order, either. I drank half a cup of orange juice, figuring it had enough calories to keep me from getting woozy again while not being so much that I had to worry about it, and then texted Evan. To my surprise, he answered right away, even though it was earlier than he would usually have been awake during vacation, and agreed to come over.

  While I waited for them to show up, I did what I could with my clothes. I sorted everything Chastaine had given me on my bed, piling it according to what it was and whether it had to be hung up or not, and then started pulling all the baggy stuff out of my closet. I would want to keep most of it, but Chastaine and Evan would tell me not to. They didn’t understand that I felt a lot more comfortable in those clothes than in the type of things Chastaine wore. She didn’t mind showing off her body. She had a body worth showing off.

  By the time the doorbell rang, I had things sort of organized. At least I could hope Chastaine wouldn’t be offended because I hadn’t put away her clothes yet. I went downstairs and opened the door to see Evan and Chastaine standing on the porch together.

  Chastaine wore an unlined fake leather jacket and a miniskirt, even though it wasn’t any warmer than the day before. At least she was wearing tights instead of her usual panty hose. The tights looked a little warmer. And she had boots with low heels and fake fur at the top instead of high-heeled shoes.

  Evan was Evan, wearing a pink knit scarf with his tan winter jacket and purple pants. The jacket was for guys, and I was pretty sure the pants were too, despite their color. It was hard to tell sometimes with Evan, because he was equally as comfortable wearing women’s clothes as guys’, and a lot of times he mixed the two.

  They came inside and I closed the door. “So, I hear we’re playing fashion makeover,” Evan said. He studied me. “Clearly an intervention is called for, but why now? You’ve been dressing like this since forever.”

  “That’s why now.” Chastaine took off her jacket and laid it over the arm of the couch. Her top was a pattern of turquoise, green, and purple, low-cut and tight like most of her shirts. The turquoise matched her tights. “If she’s been wearing the same style for years, it’s time to change. Embrace the inner fashion diva and stop dressing like you’re afraid of yourself, right, Holly?”

  “Sure.” I pressed my lips together. I wasn’t afraid of a damn thing, and Chastaine’s phrasing really got on my nerves, but I was playing the “if you can’t say something nice, shut up” game.

  “Let’s go see what you have,” Evan said. “I bet you’ve got some great stuff up there, and between Chastaine and me, we can help you figure out what works and what doesn’t, and get you out of all those old sweatshirts and stuff.”

  “Aren’t the people who love you supposed to accept you the way you are?” I muttered. That was one of Evan’s favorite sayings, which he used every time someone told him he should dress more masculine and forget about nail polish and makeup.

  “Yeah, but they’re also supposed to encourage you to be a better you,” Chastaine said. “If you’re honestly happy with the way you look and dress, we’ll
drop it, but I don’t think you are. At least, you don’t look happy about it. Like I said, you’re hiding, and you’re too pretty to hide.”

  “Thanks.” I believed her about the pretty part. Mostly. My face, at least.

  “Hol, you know I think you’re gorgeous,” Evan said. “You aren’t the problem. Your clothes are. If you’re comfortable in the clothes you wear and wouldn’t be in anything else, so be it, but you can be comfortable in clothes that fit you better. Some of the stuff you’re wearing is way too baggy. You’ve lost a lot of weight, haven’t you?”

  “You only think I’m gorgeous because I’m your cousin, and you have to say nice things to me.” I couldn’t help smiling, though. Evan was pretty good for my ego. But I refused to answer him about the weight thing. The last thing I wanted was another lecture.

  “That would be a reason not to say it,” he said. “How often do I do anything I ‘have to’ do?”

  “Fine.” I rolled my eyes. They weren’t going to let up, and after all, going through my clothes was the top reason they’d come over.

  I brought them to my room. Chastaine stopped in the doorway behind me and stared at my bed. “Damn. Is that all the stuff I gave you?”

  “Yeah.” I felt a little sick to my stomach. “Um, I had all my stuff, and I didn’t want to cram your stuff in and ruin it. I haven’t had time to sort through it all yet. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not mad.” She walked over to the bed. “I just didn’t realize I’d given you so much. And sorting through it is why we’re here. You and I went through the stuff I gave you already, but you might have second thoughts about some of it, and that’s okay. Like Evan said, it’s about being comfortable.”

  “And stylish.” Evan picked up one of the tight miniskirts Chastaine had given me and held it up. “Cute, but a little transparent. You wouldn’t be able to stand in direct light wearing this.”

  “Crap. That’s why I never wore it. I forgot.” Chastaine took the skirt from Evan and crumpled it. “Sorry, Holly.”

  “I never wore it either, so it doesn’t matter.” I opened the closet. “There’s more in here. I guess it’s a good thing you guys came over, because I would pretty much be losing my mind if I tried to figure all of this out myself.”

  “We are here to help.” Evan picked up another skirt and pulled it on over his jeans. He was at least six inches taller than Chastaine, so even though the skirt was stretchy enough to fit him, it barely covered his butt. I was glad he’d kept his pants on.

  It took a long time to go through everything. Chastaine and Evan kept making me try things on, which took forever, especially since I made them leave the room every time. It wasn’t so much being uncomfortable changing in front of them as knowing some things would be too tight on me, and I didn’t want Chastaine or Evan to see me in those. If I couldn’t stand how something looked when I glanced down at myself, that meant I wasn’t going to keep it no matter what anyone else said.

  At one point Evan brought a box of trash bags from the kitchen. While I kept trying things on and Chastaine kept encouraging me, Evan bagged up the clothes we’d agreed I shouldn’t keep. He probably didn’t think I noticed him putting in a few sweaters and sweatshirts I hadn’t tried yet. I didn’t bother saying anything. They weren’t among my favorites, and I knew he was only trying to help.

  By the time we got through everything, their stomachs were noticeably growling, and I felt a little dizzy. We had two jumbo trash bags full of clothes they’d talked me into giving up and ones I wasn’t willing to keep. In the past month, I’d shrunk out of that much of my wardrobe, and Chastaine had given me that much of hers.

  “One of us really should have our license,” Evan said. “Then we could drive to a donation box to get rid of those. Your parents might not be impressed to see how much you’re getting rid of.”

  “Yeah.” We weren’t poor, but we didn’t exactly have a ton of extra funds either. My parents hated wasting money, and they probably would have said that was what I was doing.

  “I’ll call Marcus or Andy when I’m ready to leave,” Chastaine said. “If one of them can pick me up, we’ll take the bags with us. Right now, I’m too hungry to care about that, though.”

  “Chinese food?” Evan said hopefully. “I’m so over pizza and fries. I think I had that five or six times in the past two weeks because Mom’s been out with Shawn so much.”

  “I thought you were going to learn how to cook.” I didn’t want Chinese food. There were way too many temptations on the menu. On the other hand, it was probably a lot better than pizza and fries from the town’s most popular take-out place. Easier to have smaller portions, and some of the things we usually got from the Chinese restaurant probably had fewer calories.

  “I tried,” he said. “After the third time I annoyed the upstairs neighbors by setting off the smoke detectors, Mom told me to quit. Since she’s the one paying the rent and dealing with the pissy neighbors, I kind of had to listen. I’ll learn to cook when I’m out on my own. Either that or I’ll be such a famous drag queen I’ll be able to eat out every night or hire someone to cook for me.”

  “Dream on.” I grinned. “Kidding. I know you’re going to make it.”

  “Of course I am. I’m fierce as hell.” He took his cell out of his pocket and narrowed his eyes. “Crap. Text from Dad. I seriously do not want to deal with him. He asked me to spend vacation with him, his girlfriend, and her kids, as if I have any interest in getting spitballs shot at me and being told I’m not a real man all week. I said no, so now he’s alternating between trying to persuade me to go for the weekend and threatening to get a new visitation order so I won’t have a choice.” He studied the phone. “At least this one is a persuasion, not a threat.”

  “Ignore it,” Chastaine said. “Seriously. Like right now, ignore it so we can order food before my stomach digests itself.”

  “Is that physically possible?” Evan started scrolling through numbers on the phone. “I have the Chinese place here somewhere. Mom hates it when I order from there because I always spend too much, but there’s only so much pizza and fries a man can stand. There it is. Tell me what you guys want.”

  Chastaine and I named a few things we wanted to eat—or she wanted to eat and I wanted to order so they would believe I would eat—and then went into the living room while Evan made the call. Chastaine flopped onto the couch and groaned. “Too much bending and bagging and stuff. Why did you wait so long to sort things out?”

  I shrugged and sat in Dad’s armchair. “I don’t know. It felt weird to get rid of all the clothes I usually wear, and I didn’t want to give up the ones you gave me, because that would have been rude.”

  “It wouldn’t have been rude. You just should have told me in the first place that you didn’t want them.” She folded her legs under her. She was the only person I knew who could sit like that in a miniskirt and not reveal a damn thing more than she wanted to. “Why did you take them?”

  “I don’t know,” I said again. “I mean, you gave them to me. You were being nice, and I liked you, and I liked that you were being nice. God, I sound like a kindergartner trying to make a best friend.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, well, sometimes I feel that way too. But we’re more than friends, anyway, right?”

  “Yeah. But we weren’t when you started giving me clothes.”

  “If you’d told me you didn’t want them, I would have donated them or given them to someone else.” She paused. “Maybe. I don’t know if any of the girls I used to hang out with would take anything of mine. To some of them, I’m still the slut who deserved what I got and ruined Jim’s life. If I gave them clothes, they’d probably burn them.”

  I was pretty sure I had told her I didn’t want her clothes the first time she’d given me some. She’d insisted I take them, and every time since, she’d brushed off my arguments. I wasn’t sure I believed she would have done something else with them if I’d refused them.

  It wasn’t the right time to call
her on it, though. Bringing up her former friends was never easy for her, and I wanted to make her feel better.

  “To some of them, two plus two equals fish,” I said, quoting from some old cartoon I vaguely remembered from when I was a kid. Something about a boy who had fairies. “You know it isn’t your fault, right? And Jim’s the one who got what he deserved. Actually, nowhere near as much as he deserved.”

  “I agree with that.” She sighed. “You know what? That ought to be part of the support group. Like, maybe every time we meet, we can open with everyone saying, ‘It wasn’t my fault.’ And the people who haven’t been assaulted can say ‘It wasn’t your fault.’ A lot of us need to hear that.”

  “Definitely. Making mental note.” I was beyond relieved to change the subject to the support group. I didn’t have answers for Chastaine’s questions about the clothes. I’d taken them because I’d had a crush on her for a long time. She was the confident, attractive, fun person I wanted to be.

  Maybe I hadn’t so much had a crush as just wished I was her. But the result was the same. I’d taken the clothes because they’d belonged to her, and I couldn’t help hoping they would make me more like her somehow.

  Obviously it hadn’t worked. No big surprise there. Nothing could make me anything more like Chastaine Rollo, no matter how hard I wished.

  “While we’re waiting for the food, let’s start planning,” she said. “Like, when is our first meeting going to be? We can definitely do it at my house, but we have to decide on the day and time. And we need to get the word out, but not to too many people. I don’t want my house invaded, and having too many members in the group might scare off some people.”

  Evan came into the room. “Food’s on its way. Those who can contribute, pay up.”