Blue Jeans and Sweatshirts Read online

  “Teenagers are horrible.” Mom took a sip of her juice. “You can’t let it get to you. Don’t let them decide what you’re supposed to look like.”

  “I’m not. I’m deciding.” I took another bite of cardboard pancake and washed it down with the smallest sip of juice I could manage. “I don’t want to look like this anymore. I want to be able to go into stores and buy clothes that fit and look good, not have to hunt all the racks for stuff that will fit me and then try it on and be all bulgy. It’s gross, and I’m doing something about it. You should be happy that I’m trying to take care of myself.”

  “You aren’t taking care of yourself if you’re starving,” Dad said. “That’s our concern. You’re barely eating anything at all. If you want to lose weight, we can make an appointment with your doctor so she can tell you how to do it safely. Not eating at all isn’t any better for you than overeating.”

  “And you don’t need to lose weight,” Mom said. “I don’t think you needed to in the first place, but you definitely don’t now. I’m not sure how much you’ve lost, but it’s very obvious.”

  “Good.” It wasn’t at all obvious to me, but if she wanted to believe she could see I’d lost a few pounds, I wouldn’t argue with her. “I want it to be obvious.”

  “You’ve lost it too quickly,” Dad said slowly. “I don’t know why you aren’t hearing us when we say that. It isn’t healthy to lose so much weight so fast, especially when as far as we can tell, you’re doing it by not eating. If you do it that way, you’re going to make yourself sick, and then when you start eating normally again, you’ll gain back the weight.”

  “Then I won’t go back to eating normally.” That was another stupid thing for me to say, but I didn’t care. They were being too pushy. They needed to leave me alone and let me live my own life. “I’m sixteen. Don’t I get a say in my own health and my own body yet? Or am I your property until I turn eighteen?”

  “You’re being very disrespectful.” Mom sounded almost relieved. She knew how to handle disrespect. She didn’t have a clue how to deal with a kid who refused to shove food down her throat. “We’re talking to you about this because we’re concerned, Holly. Of course your health and your body are under your control, but if we think you’re doing something unsafe, we still have the right to say so.”

  “Okay, well, you’ve said it.” I wanted to get up and walk out of the room, but it wouldn’t have done me any good. They would probably see it as proof that I wouldn’t eat. “You’re going to be late for work, aren’t you?”

  “You’re more important,” Mom said.

  “Holly, we just want you to promise us you’ll try to eat a little healthier,” Dad said. “That means actually eating, for one thing. We have fruits and vegetables. Those won’t pack on the pounds. We have other food here that’s good for you and not fattening. We’re asking you to find a balance between eating too much and not eating anything. Otherwise, we’re going to have to step in and do something. You might own your body, but we’re your parents, and that means we take care of you if you aren’t taking care of yourself.”

  “I get it,” I snapped. They were seriously getting on my nerves. Whatever rights they believed they had, they didn’t have the right to keep hammering at me and trying to make me promise something I had no intention of doing.

  I was eating. Most of the time. At least enough to live on. And I’d meant what I said. If going back to eating “normally” would mean gaining back the weight, I would keep eating the way that worked.

  I kept my mouth shut, though. If they already thought I was being disrespectful, it wouldn’t do me any good if I kept it up. If I wanted them to leave for work, which I did, I had to play good girl and do what they wanted.

  “Fine,” I said. “I promise I’ll try to eat healthier, but I’m still not going to eat a lot of stuff like pasta. I shouldn’t even be eating this pancake because carbs. So I’ll do what you want if you back off.”

  “Rude,” Mom said.

  “Sorry.” I wasn’t.

  “That’s all we were asking for,” Dad said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I picked up the bacon and nibbled at it so they would think I was eating it, and so they would see I didn’t want to talk anymore.

  Thank God, they dropped the subject. They were already running later than usual, so they cleared their plates, drained their glasses, and headed out the door. As soon as they were gone, I threw away the half pancake and the remains of the bacon I hadn’t eaten and dumped the rest of my orange juice down the sink.

  I went over to Chastaine’s house early so we could plan out exactly what we wanted to say at the meeting. We needed to be able to explain to everyone what our thoughts were on why and how the group should exist, but we didn’t want to sound bossy about it. It really should be everyone’s group, not only ours, and that meant letting everyone have some say in how it worked.

  “We should make a no-trigger rule,” Chastaine said when we were sitting on her bed. Her brother Andy hadn’t left for his college classes yet, and we didn’t want him to overhear us.

  “What does that mean?” I picked at a loose thread on her comforter and tried to ignore the growling in my stomach. As far as I was concerned, I’d eaten more than enough for breakfast, but apparently my stomach didn’t agree.

  “Do you know what a trigger is?”

  “The thing on a gun,” I muttered. “Yes, I know. It’s like the books in the school library that are labeled with warnings that they might upset people because they’re about rape or eating disorders or whatever.”

  “Yeah. So we should make a rule that people have to be careful of what they say so they don’t trigger someone else.” She paused. “That’s going to be kind of hard, I guess. Sometimes people are triggered by things that don’t even bother someone else. But maybe we can come up with certain words and phrases we won’t use.”

  “Yeah.” I saw where she was going with her idea, and it was probably smart. We didn’t know everything everyone in the group had been through, but some things would probably upset even those of us who hadn’t had any problems. “Or, like, make it a common sense rule. If it would trigger you, don’t say it. If it’s something you know would trigger a lot of people who’ve been through this, or if it’s something you’d find in the trigger warning section of the library, don’t say it. Otherwise, common sense.”

  She snorted. “Yeah. Some of the people who’ll be here might not have any, but that might work. And then maybe another rule that if someone gets triggered, we stop the meeting to help them or give them space or whatever.”

  I nodded. “Good idea.”

  It was a good idea, but it worried me. I hadn’t stopped to think that people might have meltdowns, like the one Chastaine had had a few weeks earlier when she heard Jim Frankel had started serving his time. Adults probably knew how to deal with that kind of thing, but as far as they were concerned, we might not. Which was probably one of the reasons Ms. Rondeau had refused to let us do the group at school.

  “What do we do if someone is triggered?” I asked, hoping Chastaine would have some kind of answer.

  She tapped a finger against her thigh. “Good question. There are things that work for me, like reminding me I’m safe and giving me space to calm down. But different things work for different people.”

  “Of course they do.” Obviously there was no one-size-fits-all when it came to dealing with stuff like this. Not everyone had been through the same thing, so it made sense they wouldn’t cope in the same ways or be triggered in the same ways.

  It made sense, but it also made it harder to know how to help.

  “We could ask everyone,” Chastaine said. “Probably most, if not all, of them have been triggered by something or had a flashback or whatever. We can ask what they want us to do if something like that happens. We’d have to write it down, probably, because there’s no way I would remember that info for half a dozen or more people, but at least we would have some clue.�
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  “Yeah. We can do that.” I didn’t know if any of them would be willing to share the information, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

  “And we should probably make sure everyone understands that even though we’re making rules about how to talk to the group so we can try to avoid triggers, some stuff still might be triggering.” She got up and went to her desk for a notebook and pen, then settled back on the bed with her legs crossed. “I’m going to start writing some of this down now so we don’t forget it when everyone’s here.”

  “Okay.” I was glad she’d thought of that, because I was already starting to forget some of what we’d just said. I had a headache, and my vision was a little blurry. I needed to remember to talk to Mom about making an appointment for me to have my eyes checked. My glasses probably weren’t strong enough anymore.

  While Chastaine wrote down what we’d talked about in her big, loopy handwriting, I leaned against the wall and looked out the window over Chastaine’s desk. It was snowing a bit. Not enough to make walking or driving a problem. Just enough to look pretty.

  I must have zoned out watching the snowflakes, because the next thing I knew, Chastaine was shaking my arm. “Holly, are you okay? What happened?”

  “Huh?” I sat up and shook my head, which only made it hurt worse. “Nothing happened. I was just looking out the window.”

  “I said your name about six times, and your eyes were closed.” She let go of my arm. “Did you eat this morning?”

  “For crying out loud!” I took a deep breath so I wouldn’t completely go off on her. “Yes, I ate. My parents made me eat, because they got it in their heads that I’ve been starving myself or something. So yes. I had food. I didn’t pass out. I was looking at the snow.”

  “Which doesn’t explain why it took you so long to answer me. I was kind of scared.” She sounded it, too.

  I felt like crap. “I’m sorry you were scared. I don’t know. I didn’t sleep well last night, so maybe I dozed off. You said my eyes were closed.”

  “You’re really pale too.” She got up and motioned for me to follow her. “Andy’s probably gone by now, and we have some juice and soda. Drink at least a little, please. It’ll help.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” She was only asking me to have a bit of juice or soda. That wouldn’t completely mess with my calories for the day, and it might get her to back off about whether I’d eaten or not.

  She took a bottle of apple juice and a can of soda out of the fridge and held them up. “Which one?”

  “Juice.” I wasn’t sure whether the juice would have any fewer calories than the soda, but it at least sounded healthier.

  She poured some juice into a glass and handed it to me. “There. Please drink all of it so I can stop thinking you’re going to pass out again.”

  “I didn’t pass out in the first place.” I took a sip and grimaced. “This tastes way too sweet.”

  “Do you want soda instead?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’ll deal with this.”

  We went into the living room and sat on the couch, and she watched me drink the entire glass of juice. Even though the stuff tasted horrible, I drank it fast so Chastaine would stop staring at me.

  By the time people started showing up for the meeting, my headache was mostly gone, and Chastaine had stopped looking like I was on my deathbed. She let everyone in as they arrived, and by eleven o’clock, almost all the people we’d gotten in touch with were there, except Xan and Alyssa.

  “Thanks for coming over,” Chastaine said.

  Everyone stopped talking. Even if Chastaine wasn’t one of the most popular kids at school anymore, people listened to her.

  “You all know what happened to me last summer.” She walked over to stand in front of the TV. “And you know how a lot of people treated me because of it. They blamed me. They told me I deserved it. Or they said I was lying and just trying to cause trouble. Which isn’t true. What I said happened is the truth.”

  “People did that to me too.” Natalia raised her hand. “Sorry.”

  Chastaine smiled at her. “It’s okay, Natalia. You don’t have to raise your hand, but please don’t talk until I’m finished, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “I think that happens to a lot of people,” Chastaine said. “Being blamed or being told they’re lying, I mean. That’s one of the reasons Holly suggested we start a support group. She thought it would be a good idea if we could be around other people who’d been through the same thing. I agreed, and I’m guessing all of you agree too, or you wouldn’t be here. Any questions so far?”

  I expected Natalia to say something else, but Tony Demaria was the one who spoke. “What are we doing, exactly? It’s only us here. No counselors, no adults. How is this going to work, and do you honestly think it’s a good idea not to have someone here who knows what they’re doing?”

  I clenched my fists. Leave it to the captain of pretty much every sports team at school to act like a know-it-all jerk. I managed to keep my mouth shut, though. Maybe he didn’t know he sounded like a jerk, and if I picked a fight with him, he might leave. No matter how much any of them annoyed me, we’d started the group for a reason, and I didn’t want anyone to walk out.

  “I did some research online,” Guillermo said. “There are support groups that are run by counselors, but there are peer groups too. Some have facilitators, and some don’t. If we’re respectful of each other and think carefully about what we say, we’ll be all right.”

  “Which brings me to one very important thing,” Chastaine said. “Actually, two. First of all, Holly and I are the ones who came up with this and invited you guys over, but it isn’t only her and my group. So if we say something you don’t agree with, tell us. And we aren’t going to make a whole lot of rules without letting the group talk them over.”

  “Why do we have to have any rules?” Tracie asked. “Isn’t this supposed to be somewhere we can talk about thing without anyone telling us to be quiet?”

  I stood up. I was already sick of the arguing, and if they kept it up, there wouldn’t be any group. If I spoke up now, maybe I wouldn’t lose my temper. “We have to have rules because we want this group to help, not make things worse. We should respect each other. Let each other talk, but also think about what we’re saying so we don’t end up triggering someone. So that’s why we need rules.”

  Chastaine shot me a look I took to mean I should sit down and be quiet again, so I did, even though it pissed me off even more. I was the one who’d suggested we start the group, and I’d done most of the work of putting together the proposal and presenting it to the administrators at school. Now she was acting like she was in charge of it all.

  Then again, she was Chastaine Rollo. The rest of the group was more likely to listen to her than to me. I clenched my fists again and sat on them so no one else would notice.

  “What Holly said,” Chastaine said. “That’s the second important thing. For some people, a lot of this stuff is really hard to talk about. People might have anxiety attacks or flashbacks or whatever. We need to be careful what we say and how we say it. Even though we can’t always guess what one person’s triggers might be, there are some things that will trigger pretty much everyone.”

  “That’s part of being respectful, I think,” Evan said. “We respect each other’s right to feel safe and not have to panic. Like Holly said.”

  I gave him a quick smile. At least one person acknowledged I’d said something useful. Chastaine kind of had too, but not until after she’d taken over.

  “Exactly,” Chastaine said. “One of the things we’d like to talk about today is how you guys want to run the group and what you want from it. We also thought it might be a good idea if you tell the group how to help you if you get triggered. If you don’t know, it’s okay, but if you have something that works for you, it would be good for the rest of us to know.”

  “Do we have to tell you guys anything?” Eleanor Alice asked.

  That surprised me.
She was one of Chastaine’s former friends, though I guessed they were friends again since Eleanor Alice had stood up for Chastaine and apologized to her a few weeks earlier. Chastaine had said Eleanor Alice had never been assaulted in any way, so I wasn’t sure why she was asking. She shouldn’t have had anything to not want to tell us.

  “No one has to say anything at all if they don’t want to,” Chastaine said. “But if no one ever talks, the group’s going to be kind of pointless. It’s up to you what you share, if you share.”

  “I have to go to work in an hour,” Tony said. “Maybe we should just figure out what we’re doing here and how, and then set another meeting?”

  Chastaine narrowed her eyes. I held back a smile. Now she knew how it felt to have someone take over without asking.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” Chastaine said. She sat down. “Okay. Let’s figure this out.”

  Setting the rules of the group wasn’t easy. People kept bickering, and I wanted to slam a few heads together by the time we were done. I didn’t contribute much to the discussion, because I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t have sounded completely horrible. Mostly I took notes and listened and tried not to want to kill anyone.

  Somehow, we managed to agree on some things, including Chastaine’s no-trigger rule and what to do for each member if they were triggered. I wrote it all down.

  After everyone left, Chastaine sat on the couch again and glared at me. “What’s your issue?”

  “What are you talking about?” I tensed. It sounded a whole lot like she was trying to start a fight.

  “You were a bitch. You almost made Natalia cry.”

  “Thanks for the name-calling.” I tossed the notebook and pen onto the coffee table and stood. “I guess you’d know a whole lot about being a bitch.”

  “I’m not the one who was treating people like crap,” she said. “Sit down.”

  “Screw you.” I went over to the door to put on my boots and coat. If she thought I was going to stand there and let her talk to me that way, she could think again.