"Hey, Mom," I wedge my phone between my shoulder and my ear as I grab my calculator from my locker.
"Ciao, tesoro," her chipper voice comes from the other end of the call.
"What's up?" I slam my locker shut. I jut my chin towards the athletic building and Noah nods in understanding, leading Akio away.
"So much," she sighs. "Cat decided she wants to follow in your footsteps so she's in dance every day. Gabby fell off her horse the other day but she only has a couple of bruises. Sofia might just drive your father insane, though."
"What's she doing?" I ask curiously.
"She has a boyfriend," Mom whispers.
"No way," I gasp. "She's thirteen."
"I know," she replies. "Your uncle is the only thing stopping him from killing the poor kid."
"Go Gio," I chide.
"Apparently he's been helping you out too," her tone shifts slightly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I say firmly.
"I'm not stupid, Isabelle."
Shit. The full name.
"I know you're not," I reply. Noah holds open the door for me as we walk outside.
"Are you sure that this is what you want?" I can hear the trepidation in her voice.
"Yes."
She sighs heavily, "I'll see what I can do."
"Really?" I ask. No fucking way she's giving me her stamp of approval.
"Pending grades and any disciplinary issues," she says slowly, like she's choosing her words carefully. "I will speak to your father after the debutante ball."
I roll my eyes. I forgot about that stupid thing. It's a tradition at Montrose for their very best female students to attend the annual Geneva debutante ball. Being the best does not only include academics. Extracurriculars, leadership roles, and even lineage play a big part.
"Grazie, Mom," I breathe out.
"I'll talk to you soon, tesoro," she replies.
I hang up with a smile on my face. Not only do I have Gio on my side, but also my mother. My dad may brush off Gio's opinions, but he can't ignore them both.
Akio ventures off into the art building for his painting class and Noah and I continue to the athletic building. We separate to go into the locker rooms. It always smells like a perfume store exploded in here and I weave between my half clothed classmates to my locker.
I quickly exchange my uniform for my sports kit and lace up my sneakers. Much like at dance, I don't bother with the silly locker room conversations. I listen to everything, but I almost never interject.
"Did you hear who Meredith hooked up with?"
"Marcus says he's going to meet me after curfew."
"Mr. Gott is such a hardass."
The gym floor squeaks under my shoes. Most of the boys in the class are congregated together under one of the basketball hoops. Ryan, Noah and Will sit off to the side on the bleachers. I move to join them, planting myself on the plastic bench beside Will.
"Hey," I chirp.
"Hey," Noah grins. "We were just talking about this guy's new art project."
Will's cheeks flush, "it's nothing special."
"Then why won't you tell us about it?" Noah pushes.
"It's personal," Will shrugs.
"Leave him alone," I swat at Noah.
"Just joking, relax," he puts up his hands in self defense.
"Now look at what you've done," Ryan huffs, vaguely gesturing to me. "You've upset the princess."
"Get fucked," I roll my eyes.
The shrill gym whistle blows and I flinch. Nonetheless, we join the rest of the class. Our gym teacher begins to drone on and on about the importance of heart health. Essentially easing us into the task at hand; running.
Another blow of the whistle and we're off. Two miles in twenty minutes is beyond reasonable and I quickly find my stride. Will falls back almost immediately, near the end of the class. Noah finds himself somewhere in the middle but Ryan matches my pace.
"Spoke to my mom," I tell him as we round the quarter mile mark.
"Yeah?" he looks at me briefly. "About what?"
"Well," I start. "Apparently Sofia has a boyfriend."
"Your dad's going to kill him," Ryan states. It's a fact; anyone who knows the infamous Luca DiSilva knows this much. His children are his pride and joy, especially the youngest.
"Apparently Gio's keeping him in control," I offer a one shouldered shrug.
"That's good," he nods.
"She also said she'll put in a good word for me with my dad," I watch his face carefully, waiting for his reaction.
His brows lift, "seriously?"
I nod, "pending grades and limited visits to the headmaster."
"Maybe you'll be my boss after all," he laughs, nudging me with his elbow.
"You better be careful," I smile. "There's never been a donnina before; I might have to be extra brutal."
"And I'll be at your side the whole time," he promises.
We fall back into a peaceful silence, leading the class around the indoor track. We lap past some of our classmates, Will being one of them. From the sweat dripping down his face I can tell that he doesn't do much physical activity. As we hit the one mile mark, Duke falls into stride with us.
He's more tolerable in gym class. He tends to be more focused on improving his physical strength than flirting with me. He's also a competitive person, it pushes me though. Much like Ryan, he's one of the only people who can keep up with me.
By the time we get to the final quarter mile, Ryan, Duke and I are far ahead of everyone else. Ryan and Duke lock eyes and something clicks. They both take off sprinting, probably trying to see who will finish first. I take a deep breath before sprinting after them.
Duke finishes first, followed closely by Ryan and myself. We all wait at the finish line, breathing heavily. I glance at the clock on the wall; 13 minutes flat.
I plop down on the ground and start stretching. It's a big mistake a lot of people make. They'll stretch before running but not afterward. That's how your muscles get tense, get sore even.
The whistle signals the end of class. I return to the locker room with the rest of the girls. I change uniforms quickly and run a brush through my hair. I sit on one of the benches to lace up my shoes.
When I reach for my bag, my brows furrow. There's another white envelope sticking out of my open bag. I grab it, my name written on the front just like the last one, and tear it open.
Lovely Elle,
Why did you throw away my last letter? Did I say something wrong? All I want is to make you happy. I can do that. Once you're mine you'll be happy. You'll see, I promise. You're all I want.
Here is another charm for the bracelet. Did you like it? I never see you wear it. Is it too special? Because it came from me? Add this to it.
Until next time.
I pull a little pencil charm out of the envelope with furrowed brows. What the fuck? I look around the crowded locker room with furrowed brows.
I stand quickly, "hey, who-"
Before I can even process anything, my vision goes black and everything goes quiet.
~
I blink hard as I come to. Bright, fluorescent lights and the smell of bleach inform me that I'm in the infirmary. I sit up slowly, groaning as my ribs ache.
"Hey," Ryan grabs my forearm, "slow down."
"What happened?" I ask groggily. The last thing I remember is the stupid note.
"You fainted," he says softly. "Do you feel okay?"
"My ribs hurt," I state, rubbing the spot.
"Apparently you went down pretty hard," he replies.
I tilt my head back and groan. Now I'm going to have to come up with some excuse as to why I fainted. Maybe I can blame it on low iron; a lot of teenage girls deal with that. Because there is no way in fucking hell that I can let Ryan and my parents find out about my diet.
There's a commotion past the closed curtain. Shuffling of bodies and hushed arguing.
"Move!" I recognize my brother's voice. The curtain is pulled back and there he stands.
His hair and uniform are both a mess but concern is displayed clear across his face. He jerks his arm out of a nurse's hold and steps closer.
"What happened?" he demands an answer.
"She-"
"Not you," Enzo holds up a finger to silence Ryan. "Cos'è successo, Elle?"
(What happened, Elle?)
"Sono svenuta dopo la lezione di ginnastica," I shrug. "Penso di aver esagerato
(I fainted after gym class. I think I overdid it.)
"How do you feel?" Enzo looks me up and down quickly.
"I'm fine," I assure him. "Probably low iron or something; you know I don't like red meat."
"I'm calling Mom," he whips out his phone.
"No," I exclaim, much more urgently than I meant to.
He raises his brows and tucks it back away.
"She'll just worry," I tell him. "I'm fine."
He hums in disapproval but leaves it at that. Enzo finally turns his gaze to Ryan. His face hardens immediately and I furrow my brow. Why the hell is he upset with Ryan?
"Where were you?" Enzo spits out.
"In the locker room," Ryan stands from the chair, nearly a head taller than my brother.
"You're supposed to take care of her," Enzo grits out.
"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" Ryan scoffs.
"Guys-"
"Clearly you're not doing a good job," Enzo crosses his arms over his chest. "Look at her."
"I'm fine," I groan.
"Look," Ryan sighs. "I'm not in the mood to argue with you. Just go back to class."
"You don't get to tell me what to do," Enzo scoffs.
"You're acting like a fucking child, Enzo," I hiss. "I'm fine and Ryan did nothing wrong. I appreciate the concern but you should go to class."
Enzo's eyes narrow on me for a beat before turning on his heel and walking away. Ryan returns to his chair with a huff. Our eyes meet as he folds his arms across his chest.
He frowns deeply; your brother is an asshole.
I give him a blank look; I'm aware.
His eyes narrow; are you telling the truth?
My brows knit together; about what?
He deadpans; fainting.
I roll my eyes; of course I am.
His eyes narrow further; I don't believe you.
I shrug; believe when you want.
I need to be more careful. I need to at least pretend that I'm not netting negative calories every day. That I don't cry in the dance studio in the middle of the night over the fat covering my body. That I would rather pass out and lose my hair than be fat. Because if the warning bells in Ryan's head are going off, it's not going to be long before others figure it out as well.
Hannah sort of knows. Last year, I would do sit ups and push-ups in our dorm room for hours. She'd wake up to get water or go to the bathroom and there I'd be, sweating on the floor. She said it was unhealthy; that I was going to hurt myself. I convinced her it was only temporary, preparation for an upcoming recital, and she let it go.
That's why I started using the empty studio; no prying eyes.
I worry that if I am caught, if the people I care about figure it all out, they'll make me stop. I can't afford to stop, not when I'm so close to being the best; to being perfect. So I can't let anyone find out.