Learning How to Count

Chapter One

157...158...159...

I feel the bones of my spine individually roll down against the hardwood floor of my bedroom. One, two, three, four. Light, barely there. One day they will be there. They will jut out just as much as Althena's do when she bends her back while she's sitting in the seat in front of me, diligently writing notes.

183...184...185...

We will get there together, playing this game of numbers. It has only been a few months, but I can already feel the numbers I am shedding. My jeans are a little looser at my thighs and calves. Just a little, not a lot. But I will get there. I have to. I want perfection.

209...210...

"Elina, dinner is almost ready! Can you come set the table, please?" my dad's girlfriend, Hanna calls from the bottom of the stairs.

"Coming!" I yell back. I quickly change my shirt and throw on some sweatpants over my shorts. A little bit of deodorant and a spray of perfume and no one will ever know I just did 215 sit-ups and 75 squats instead of homework. I shuffle down the hallway to the top of the stairs just in time to witness the sweaty mess of my brother, Darren, nearly stumble head-over-heels through the front door, duffel bag full of soccer gear thrown over his shoulder.

"Yah know, if you tied your shoes you wouldn't always be tripping over your gigantic sasquatch feet."

"Whatever, midget. At least I fit into big boy clothes. You're the one that shops in the kids section." he teases back as he runs past me up the stairs taking them two at a time and nearly knocking my eye out with the cleats slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, watch it! You nearly took out my eye, dumbass!"

Hanna walks out of the dining room and instantly crinkles her nose from the lingering smell of body odor.

"Shower while you're up there! You have fifteen minutes to de-stinkify yourself, Darren!", she yells up the stairs.

"In my defense, kids clothes are cheaper," I mumble as I walk through the dining room and into the kitchen to grab the dinner plates and silverware. I've always been short, standing at a mighty five foot,--and a quarter of an inch, but who's counting--while my brother towers over me at six foot three. I'd honestly rather be short though. It's so much easier to weave through the hallways in the morning on my way to my classes.

I set the plates out on the table with a fork and knife at each place. Four places. I walk back into the kitchen to grab glasses and the bowl of salad prepared on the counter next to the stove. It's full of lettuce and I can see some chopped up red and yellow bell peppers, cucumbers, and tiny squares of extra sharp cheddar cheese peeking out from under the leaves. Next to it are two bottles of salad dressing that I haven't touched since me and Althena made our pact. Ranch has too many calories and too much fat and I've learned to dislike the taste of oily Italian. I grab my stack of glasses, shove the bottles of dressing the the crook of my arm and grab the bowl of salad and walk out the doorway and set it all on the table. Hanna has already brought out the rest of the food. Chicken alfredo with salad and green beans. The numbers flash before my eyes, already having been looked up before dinner. Two hundred-twenty for pasta, eighty for sauce, twenty-seven for salad and thirty for a cup of green beans.

"Elina, can you grab the milk from the fridge? Your father will probably want it when he comes in for dinner," Hanna asks as she sits down at the table.

"Sure."

I grab my cup and fill it with ice water and grab the milk from the fridge. I walk back into the dining room, gallon of milk in hand, and sit down in my seat preparing to fill my plate. Half of the plate fills with salad, a quarter with green beans and the last tiny bit with pasta and alfredo sauce. Just as I finish Darren comes bounding down the stairs and sits down at the table, hitting the underside with his knees causing my plate to jump and seven little green beans go rolling onto the table and the floor.