After English class, they handed out our third quarter report cards. To my relief I got on the high honor roll with ninety percent or higher in all classes. Perfect one hundred in Latin.
Good call there!
People murmured in the hallway as they crammed against one another to see who had made it to the honor roll. Of course, Dennis got highest honors. The guy was a freaking genius like Eric.
In psychology class, both of us had taken IQ tests along with the rest of our class. Just for fun, of course. He had gotten one fifty-nine. I was so freaking jealous. I'd do anything for those extra fifteen points in order to become valedictorian like Eric. Then I could receive that same coveted full-ride to Holy Cross and never have to worry about student loans.
But I held fourth place. Not first.
In the States, you either win top prize or you lose.
Still, I'd done my best. My family would be proud of me. They didn't pressure me to do well in school because they knew I did it enough for all three of us. Well, hell! Screw it! If a three-point-eight-seven-eight grade point average didn't earn me a spot at a good university with a decent aid package, nothing would.
When I closed my locker to leave for the day, I came face to face with the last person I expected.
"Hey, Perez!"
"Jack?" Furrowing my brow, I rose to my feet and slung my backpack over my shoulder. "What's up?"
"Lookin' good." He eyed me up and down, assessing my more slender frame. Or rather, my gawky, broad, emaciated one. "You start track and field or somethin'?"
Seriously? Now you decide to talk to me? Now that I'm a broad skeleton with giant boobs?
"I wish..." Heaving a heavy sigh, I leaned against the lockers. "It's stress."
"Oh?"
"Yeah."
"What's wrong?" he asked, like he genuinely cared.
Am I in the freaking Twilight Zone or what the heck is this?
"Grandad was sick for a long time," I replied, not knowing why the words tumbled from my lips. "We thought he wouldn't make it, but then he bounced back."
"Well, that's a relief," he said, giving me a sad smile.
"Is something wrong, Jack?" I asked, confused.
I couldn't find anything amiss other than dark circles under his eyes. But he was acting really freaking weird. He actually gazed upon me with an emotion other than derision or wariness.
If I didn't know better, I'd almost say he was...pleased to see me.
Why? It couldn't be the weight loss alone. Or maybe it was, and Jack was simply the shallow ass-hat I'd always feared.
"Nah, man. It's all cool." Jack ran an awkward hand through his thick hair. "You're just... Well, I wanted to say that I think you're awesome."
"Wh-what?" I asked, stunned as though he'd hit me with a truck.
"Like it isn't easy to... Or what I mean to say is..."
His girlfriend Nicky stopped short in the hallway when she caught Jack talking to me. As she stormed over to us, a wave of guilt washed over me even though we'd done nothing wrong.
I wasn't flirting. Neither was he.
At least, I didn't think he was.
Jeez, we hate each other. Of course he isn't.
So why did I feel guilty?
Maybe Jack had caused my uneasiness because of his nerves. I couldn't fathom why that guy would fidget while talking to me. The dude couldn't stand me, right?
Still, I didn't want Nicky to get the wrong idea.
"What are you doing with her?" she asked in a brusque voice, her eyes narrowing as she approached me. "Are you into frigid girls now?"
"Don't call her that," said Jack, holding up a rigid forefinger towards her in warning. "Jess is twice the girl you'll ever be."
"I don't have to take this shit from you," she snarled in reply. "If you love her so much, why don't you date her?"
"Maybe I will!"
What the hell is going on here? Did they break up?
If so, why is she acting so jealous?
"Yeah, go ahead! Ask Jess to the prom!" Nicky cast a casual glance around her to make sure no teachers were present before whispering, "It's as close as you'll ever get to you-know-who!"
Voldemort?
Oh, damn it! Care, you've corrupted me.
Jack glared at her with a cold hatred I'd never seen except in my mother's eyes. It made the blood freeze in my veins as I backed away from them.
"Maybe you can put up with his bullshit," Nicky said to me. "Have fun, ice princess!"
Without another word, she kicked the door open and left. For a moment I stood there, confused as hell, uncertain as to whether or not I should ask Jack for an explanation.
"Sorry about that," came a faint whisper from Jack's lips. "She's jealous."
"Why?"
I whipped around to face him, more confused than ever. As he walked past me, he clapped my shoulder in reassurance like we'd always been the best of friends.
Had I stepped into some kind of alternate reality? Was there some creepy thriller soundtrack playing in the background that I couldn't hear, warning me of my impending doom?
Or why the hell was he being so nice?
Before Jack exited the building he turned around, his azure eyes glinting with determination. "Don't ever change, Perez." He gave me a crooked smile. "Keep on writing."
My eyes widened in realization. Oh, shit! He's seen my blog!
"Don't worry," he added with a wink, "your secret's safe with me."
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Jack."
"Respect, Jess."
His eyes twinkled with an unfamiliar emotion. Was it admiration? Pride?
"But for the love of Christ, start a new blog under a new name if you want some fuckin' privacy, will ya?" he said. "It's amazing how the smartest people can be so dumb."
My heart pounded against my ribs as I stood there, too astounded to speak. Giving me a salute, he sauntered outside and joined Bryan before they walked to the football pitch.
Gosh, did he know, too? Did the whole school know?
Should I delete it right away?
Yes, delete it. Start over. New name, new path.
***
As I walked toward the old Toyota Cressida, my heart sank into my stomach. Instead of Grandad in the driver's seat, there sat Mom. To my mind, that could mean only one thing, especially with her nervous expression.
Oh, no! He's had a relapse!
Racing to the car, I wrenched open the door. "What happened? Is Grandad okay?"
"Relax, Jess," said Mom in a calm tone. "I wanted to pick you up for a change."
"Oh..."
As I buckled my seatbelt, I bit my lower lip. What had I done wrong this time?
Oh, God! What if she'd found my blog? What if Bryan had told her? Or Jack?
My brain worked at full tilt, trying to devise a spur-of-the-moment explanation for an online journal filled with things that would give her a heart attack. It's a school project. We have to pretend we're someone struggling with sexuality.
No, that sounds ridiculous, Jess. Even for you.
Think, think, think! What will I tell her?
"I thought we could look at prom dresses together," she said with a smile. "Just you and me."
As discreetly as possible, I exhaled a sigh of relief. Thank the freaking Lord!
Then the truth hit me. Oh, crap! We're going to go shopping.
"Mom!"
"We need to prepare for prom well in advance while there are still good dresses," she said. "I've been so busy with Grandad that we haven't had the chance. You need a dress, shoes, a hairdo—"
"Thanks for the thought, Mom, but I'm too busy for all that."
"It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience," she said, giving me a cautious glance. "It would be a shame if you didn't take part."
"Why? Because I have so many suitors lining up to ask me out?" I retorted.
No, I don't. You made good work of that. Thanks, Mom.
"You ignore all the nice boys who like you."
I balked. "Excuse me? What about Eric?"
"Who's Eric?"
I scoffed. "Who's Eric? The guy who liked me junior year. You know? The shy, polite young man who wanted me to tutor him and actually acknowledged that I existed."
"That atheist?"
My throat clenched in frustration. "Who cares if Eric is an atheist? He likes me for who I am!"
"Likes? As in present tense?"
"Likes! Liked! Who cares?" I groaned in frustration. "Fact of the matter is that you can't throw my lack of a boyfriend in my face when you didn't want me dating in the first place."
Now that took her aback. "Jessica Maria Sophia, never once have I told you that you couldn't date!"
Mom was one of the few people who could call me Jessica and only mildly piss me off. Everyone else risked causing the next world war.
"No, you just stood in my way every time."
"I want you to date a nice young man," she said. "One who comes to the door and introduces himself to us. One who treats you right. Not one who hides behind his computer screen!"
"You never gave Eric the chance!" I shouted. "Even though he's shy, he offered to meet you both and talk to you. I told him that he shouldn't. That came from me, not him!"
She balked. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I was scared, Mom!" Angry tears welled in my eyes. "Because I knew you would grill him over an open fire and scare him away. And I really, really like him."
Her face fell. "You're scared of me? Why?"
I scoffed. "The moment you found out Eric was an atheist, you treated him like public enemy number one. Like he was the devil incarnate."
"That isn't true. We asked him questions to make sure he wasn't bad news."
"And you banned me from the Internet!"
I huffed and folded my arms. Mom would never get it.
"Look, let's stop arguing and have a nice time," said Mom in a weary voice. "We haven't been able to do anything fun in ages. Every time we talk, we get into a fight."
I sighed.
"Can't we just enjoy this time together?" she asked. "When you were a little girl, we used to have a grand time together."
"Oh, I don't know..."
"You don't have to get anything," said Mom. "Just take a look. Try on a couple of dresses. You never know—you might actually like something."
"Shopping is always such a pain!" I muttered, pointing at my odd figure. "Look at me."
"It'll be worth it," she said in an excited tone. "We'll find a beautiful gown."
"Ugh..."
"We can go into a bookstore afterward," she said in a convincing tone to make me capitulate. "You can get anything you like under twenty dollars. Deal?"
Exhaling a slow, steady breath, I looked at Mom's profile. She seemed tired. Haggard. Grandad's illness had aged her by about ten years. At the prospect of shopping together, she seemed happy for the first time in months. I didn't want to steal that joy from her.
Besides, I couldn't say no to a free book!
"All right." I shrugged. "Let's go."
"Really?" she asked, casting an astonished glance at me before she took the exit for Worcester. "Oh, Jess! You won't regret it, I promise. You'll look like an absolute princess."
Don't make me change my mind!
"You can pick out whatever dress you like," she continued. "I've set aside money for it. And the shoes. Oh! We can't forget those pretty gloves that go up your arms. And rhinestone jewelry."
Oh, boy. I'm regretting this already.
"We can ask Angel to do your hair," she said, gushing with enthusiasm. "He does have an angel's touch, doesn't he?"
"Mom!"
"Angel is an absolute dream," she continued. "If only you could find a nice young man like that. You know, a Catholic man with strong ties with the Church and a good business..."
Oh, for the love of all that is holy! Please stop! He's ancient...
"I haven't even said I wanted to go to prom yet."
"But you didn't say that you didn't want to go."
"I kinda did, if you recall."
Mom waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes!"
Every day she resembled Mrs. Bennet more and more. Well, I did say I longed for the good ol' days when Mom drove me nuts.
Be careful what you wish for.
"Wait until you get all dolled up," she said, beaming with joy. "Then all you have to do is decide who you're going with. I think you should go with Care or Jack."
Oh, brother! Here we go again.
"Jack?!" I gaped at her. "Where the heck did that come from?"
"Jack comes from a good home," she insisted. "He volunteers for the local soup kitchen and goes to church every Sunday morning at eight."
Eight?! In the morning? On a Sunday?
That's proof he's evil.
"A pious man doesn't make a good man," I muttered.
"He also coaches that football team for at-risk kids. Such a sweet kid." She gave me a knowing smile. "He's worked very hard and got a full football scholarship, you know."
"Wait, what?"
She nodded. "His mother told me this Sunday at church. You'd be lucky to get a full scholarship."
I groaned. Thanks for the vote of confidence.
Worst thing is, she's right.
Some asshole kicking a ball around gets a free ride while I'll be stuck with loans because my grade point average is zero-point-zero-seven points lower than stupid Dennis.
Shit! I shouldn't have dropped Physics II.
"Jack's going places in life." She gave me a sly smile. "He's single, you know."
"Thanks, Matchmaker."
"A little birdy told me that he broke up with Nicky this weekend." Mom looked mighty proud of herself. "Guess who needs a date for the senior prom?"
I folded my arms. "No. Way. In. Hell."
"What's wrong with Jack?" she asked, astonished. "You have more in common than you realize. He likes that Star Trekking Wars show."
"Ugh, Mom. Star Trek and Star Wars."
"You know what I mean."
"What don't I have against him?" I said. "He's conceited. He bullies people. He's one of those cool jock kids with no brain. I wouldn't be caught dead dating him."
"Jack Kowalski is a lovely young man if you give him half a chance," she said.
"Are you listening to yourself?" I cried. "You don't see how he acts at school."
"Everyone wears a mask, dear."
Silence fell as she pulled into the parking lot for the Solomon Pond Mall. Her words rang as loud as church bells. For once they carried the weight of truth, and my heart twisted in fear.
Did Mom know about my mask, too?
No, she couldn't. I'd worn it for so long that it had become a part of my very identity, covering me like a second skin. Until I'd begun to rip it off thanks to my blog and my patient friends.
What would Mom say once she saw the real me?
"Now I thought about what you said." She took on a more serious mien. "Of course, you should make your own decision. You'll be eighteen, after all. But it—"
"So I could go with Eric?"
She huffed. "Please don't choose that insufferable—"
"You haven't even met him, Mom."
"I don't need to."
"Remember what we decided? No fighting?" I asked in a wary voice. "Give him a chance. You'd love him. He's super smart, polite, good looking—"
"Let's talk about that some other time," she said, opening the glass door to Sears. "Right now, we'll focus on finding you a gorgeous dress."
Well, it's progress.
***
Every time I went into a fitting room, I wanted to murder someone.
A size ten made me look like a tent to accommodate the ample boobs that never seemed to go away. Not even after thirty pounds of weight loss. A size four highlighted my slender stomach and thin hips but gave me a uniboob that burst out of the bodice.
"This is a waste of time!" I growled as the tenth dress tumbled to the floor. "I'm never going to find one that fits."
"Give it time, dear. You need patience."
"Ugh, I am patient!" I snarled.
"Clearly."
She wasn't wrong.
The twelfth dress worked like a charm. Mom had found an Empress-style gown that didn't highlight my curves but still made me look slender, suiting my new broad but narrow build.
"Dear, you've lost an awful lot of weight," she said as she ran her hands over the sides. "Are you feeling okay? You're not having a relapse?"
"No, Mom." I shook my head. "It's not like that. I'm just stressed."
"You should go easier on yourself, dear."
"I'm trying."
She squeezed my bony shoulders. "Well, I don't know about you, but I think this one is lovely."
"I think you're right," I said with a smile as I turned this way and that in front of the mirror.
"Now all you need is a pair of beautiful high heels," she said, taking the dress under her arm. "Follow me."
She shot forward, leading the way like grease lightning despite her tiny legs. I had to power walk to catch up with her. Even though she was in her mid-eighties.
While I tried on twenty pairs of heels, I wondered why the hell women felt the need to compress their spines and wobble around on mini-stilts simply to gain three inches of height.
Even though I hated shopping, it also bonded Mom and me in a way we hadn't done in years.