Chapter 1: To be Ally
Ally walked through the halls, ponytail swinging from left to right, on her way to Math class. The senior was in Calculus C, and advanced math class for her school. It was a class full of juniors and seniors in college, seeing as it was a distance delivery class. She made eye contact with the people racing through the halls, the passing periods only three minutes compared to last year's five. There was already and epidemic of tardies. No one could make it from one end of the building, to their lockers, and then back across the building with all their books and folders and binders along with the required student handbook.
Ally smiled when she saw a familiar blonde pressed against a locker with a female pressed against him. How he did that and still made it to class on time with the barbaric passing periods was beyond her. But, nonetheless, she remained invisible to him, too scared to actually talk to the boy that she had gone to school with since she was seven.
Ally reached the classroom and sat at her usual table. All alone, but in the middle of everything. It was the only place where every place in room could be seen. She always faced the windows, relying on the bulletproof and locked door to protect that side.
She arranged her books in order of what she would need as the class went on as she waited for the bell to ring. When it did, the Television in front of her switched on, and just like that, she was immersed into the world of college math.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she didn't take it out, always adhering to the no cell phone policy even when nobody was watching. Whatever it was could wait. If it was urgent, there was a land line that she could be reached at on the far wall.
The thick Russian accent of her college professor rung out and she immediately clicked her bright pink pen open, and started in on her notes, periodically switching to a pencil when needed.
As the bell rang, Ally did her best to gather everything up in a timely manner, of course not succeeding, before racing out of there, needed to reach the other side of the school for her orchestra class. Shoving her books into her locker, she slammed it shut and started off.
But, then she sighed and turned back, reaching out to her locker to slam it shut again and pressing her body strategically across it to evenly distribute her weight along the three key locking parts. Since she was a freshman, she had always had a dud of a locker. It had never failed her. Like clockwork, three weeks in, when locker changes were no longer allowed, it would start. First, it wouldn't open and she would have to smash her palm into the combination lock about three time. Then, on of the hinges would break off and she would have to pay for them. After that, the handle to open it would fall off. She would have to pay for that about seven times before she was finally not allowed to have it replaced. Then, to top it all off, it wouldn't close unless all of her weight was pressed slowly and firmly into the lock side of it. The first time it had happened, she had gotten three hours of detention for her many, many tardies. She had figured out the system.
She sped-walked off, racing against the passing period to make it to class.
He always got on the bus at 2:21, exactly one minute after it was supposed to pull out of the lot. The driver would wait, and the minute he was on, the bus would be moving. It didn't matter if Ally, or anyone else was running and screaming towards the bus trying to get it to wait ten more seconds so they could make it, as long as that boy was on, the driver was content to leave everyone else.
Ally always sat in the emergency exit, three seat behind him. People teased her that she liked him and the only thing she could wonder is if people really did that. Did people really want to stare at his cowlick that badly? No, the real reason was so if the bus rolled, or caught on fire, she would have a way out, so long as it didn't roll onto her side.
Pushing her ear buds into her ears, she watched as his head drooped down. He was probably sleeping.
Weaving throughout the Air force base housing, they finally reached the gate. The bus slid back and forth on its wheels, spinning on the ice. She sighed and looked out the window.
It felt like she had done a lot of sighing lately. Passed the gate they went and to the left to their little town with no High School in it. They drove down, parallel to the flight line, and she watched as a fight jet did practice runs on the ice. She wondered about the heating systems in the jets. Were they very good?
She glance to her left after the flight line and some time had passed. Mile marker 398. Her road would be coming up soon, and with this ice the driver should be braking already. She saw her road come into view and still no brakes. Knowing what was coming, she braced herself. They reached the row of mailboxes right before her road when the driver slammed on the brakes. Sliding over 100 yards past her and the next kid's roads.
There was a collective sigh of three people as they slammed hats on their head and gloves on their hands. The three of them got up and trudged of the bus. The one crossed the highway and was home free. Ally and him walked up the road, panting, her glasses fogging, his converse slipping. It wasn't that cold by any means, but the ice was death incarnate. The shoulder of the road they stumbled down used to be a large source of amusement. But now, both walking on opposite sides and turning after making it the treacherous 100 yards, they went their separate ways, her turning down her long road, and him walking down his driveway.
She looked down her road, taking a mental picture of the trees bending from the crystal weight of the snow, creating a movie like canopy over her head. The chickadees flitting about, causing little fleeting moments of blindness as the snow fell in front of her.
It didn't matter that she had lived here her entire life. It was beautiful. Breath-taking.
It was home.
She opened the snow covered grill that took up a large portion of her sidewalk. There, inside, was her key to the house. She grabbed it, ignoring the black goo that leached onto her gloves, and bounded up onto the porch. She opened the screen door and unlocked the big one.
She opened it and walked into the kitchen, with pink walls and Crayola painted floor. The stainless steel fridge and stove had stains, and the tables were in an utter state of disrepair. Walking passed them and into the dining room, which really was the same room, only separated by a sloppy line where the paint changed from pink to and awful orange that her mother had picked out. Placing her key on the table she glanced about. There was no sign of life. Her mother must not be up yet. The clock read 3:07.
She kept her bag slung over her shoulder as she discarded her boots and gloves. Her hat stayed. Her glasses came off and she preceded to defog them on the inside of her t-shirt. She walked through the living room, which was once again only separated by a sloppy line back to pink, down a little narrow hallway halfway down until she reached a thick, metal, outside style door. Opening it, she was greeted by her mess. Clothes strewn about, bed covered in dog hair. At that thought, her ear perked. Her dog hadn't been at the door. She tossed her bag on her bad and walked out of her room, whistling lowly.
"Quickly," she whispered yelled, walking further into the cave of a house towards her mother's room. She glanced in, thinking maybe he was asleep with her. But alas, he was not. She walked further still, reaching their back door, which was cracked open.
She sighed in relief, called his name out the door and hearing his bounding barks come towards her. He leaped up waiting for her to pet him, but instead she urged him inside, closing the door as soon as his tail was out of smashing range.
"Come on, boy."
They walked to her room, where she closed the door, and popped a VHS tape into her VCR. The Mulan opening sequence song began to play. She settled down on her dog hair covered bed, opened her bag a grabbed for her Government/Econ book, but, just like her good luck, it seemed to be nowhere in sight. She sighed. Again.
Glancing at her phone, it read 3:09.
Has it really only been two minutes?
She put the finishing touch on her analysis of the last paragraph of the book Things Fall Apart as the front door opened and closed, shaking her room. It had always done that. If the front door was opened or shut, or heck, leaned on, she knew. Her glass of water shook rapidly then calmed down to an even ripple. She pressed save on her computer and stood up, stretching and doing her impression of a back bend.
It was then that she saw her reflection.
Like always when this happened, she straightened up and stood in front of it. She looked at the distinct "roll" on her sides. Turning to give a profile view to the mirror, she lifted her shirt in the back slightly, dropping it again once she saw the ever present fat induced stretch marks. She adjusted her shirt and sucked in, thinking, "That is what I would look like if I was skinny."
She breathed in deeply and reached out to the top of the cheap mirror from Walmart and grabbed the dark red sharpie from atop it. She brought the tip onto the reflective surface of the mirror and made a tally mark, next to the other six hundred and thirty seven of them.
Ally put the sharpie back and straightened. She turned the doorknob and threw her weight back to open it. It only slid a little bit. One more time and it was open.
"How was your day," her dad asked when she made it to the living room.
The corners of her lips lifted the tiniest amount as she shrugged. "Fine."
He nodded and went on his way, leaving her alone again. Sucking in through her nose sharply and running her fingers through her shoulder length brown hair was all she did in response to him leaving.
Besides, tomorrow is a new day, right?
Ally walked through the halls, ponytail swinging from side to side, violin case and music in hand, on her way to Orchestra. People always say music is their escape.
It wasn't hers.
No. Her escape was playing the music. Listening was too easy. Sure, it would drown stuff out, but playing? Bringing that bow back and forth with her fingers flying across the fingerboard? That was her escape. A place where she wasn't expected to speak. A place where her little wood instrument spoke for her.
She reached the doors about twelve and half seconds before the bell rang. She sat down in her chair, which was the first one in the violin section, signifying her status as the most experienced. She didn't like to use the word better. Because what would she really be better at?
Escaping? Hiding? Retracting into her shell? No, she wasn't better than anyone. She was simply more open to letting the music, not her fingers, do the work of the notes and rhythms. The teacher, Ms. Pearson, raised her hands in a silencing motion.
After being instructed to tune and rosin up, the class of about 17 students quieted down and got to work. There were sounds of strings popping and snapping all around her, and the squeaky nails on chalkboard sound of kids pressing the rosin too firmly on their bow. They were all new at this. At the beginning of the year, they couldn't tune their own instruments, so it definitely was an improvement. Ally tuned her own violin, and then went about running around like a mad woman, tuning violins and violas for kids who were still having trouble. It wasn't easy to keep her patience, but she managed. She had replaced three broken strings by the time she was done because the kids turned to harshly on the tuning pegs, unraveling the delicate metal twirled string.
She grabbed her instrument, which had been hanging off of her stand in a fashion she encouraged no one to try, seeing as stands were very unreliable and could flip over and drop the instrument at the movement of a butterfly a thousand miles away, and sat in her chair, huffing out of breath from running around so much.
Ms. Pearson raised her hands and they all got ready to compete with a dying zebra for the worst noise they could think of.
Also known as playing.
At precisely 2:21, he got on the bus. She already had her nose in a book, trying to get as much in before the bus started moving, for she got car sickness.
A lot of, "Hey, bro," and "Sup, Bruh," happened before he made it to his seat.
She glanced up at his cowlick.
She really did envy him. The whole school loved him. She swore that the staff was planning an assembly for his birthday. She remembered Valentine's Day sophomore year. He had opened his locker and candies and chocolates and notes spilled out across the hall and littered the floor in front of her locker, which was parallel to his. On Christmas of the next year, when the whole school had been assigned a secret Santa, they all chose to only secret Santa him. Ally had actually been assigned him, and low and behold, it was pointless.
Ally knew she gave off and air of antisocial and "leave me alone," but she didn't mean to.
It just came so naturally to him.
Ally watched her road fly by and felt the brakes slam on. Breathing out heavy, she braced herself on the back of the seat in front of her. She stood up when the bus came to a halt, even further than yesterday from her house. She walked off, on her heels. And just like always, and soon as the bus left, he crossed the road, as if to say he was too repulsed by her to even walk near her. It didn't really faze her anymore though. She was used to those looks.
She had worn stupid shoes today though. She knew where she lived, and that it was icy. And yet, in her moment of, "I kinda wanna look nice today," she had worn five inch wedges. She loved them. They were comfortable and easy to walk in, but not on ice.
She decided she had to choose between her back or her dignity. She chose her back. She stuck her arms out straight and bent at the waist slightly and began walking steadily.
This could work!
As one who live around ice, one should learn that there are always little divots in the ice. Little cracks and dent where a heel or wedge would slide oh so perfectly forward leaving one center of gravity unbalance and too far backwards.
Her butt hit the ice so hard she felt it in her neck. Seventeen and a half years and this was where she had landed herself. Literally.
She just laid back, giving up and heaving a sigh, letting the stinging in her neck subside slowly. She heard a car wiz pass her and felt she should probably get up. Before she could, she felt two large hands wrap themselves around her arm. She felt a heave on her arm and she was ripped halfway up where she then straightened her knees, internally dying that even he, Mr. Football and wrestling state champion, couldn't lift her like she had seen him do for other girls.
Her mortification didn't seem to faze him as he checked her over, lifting her loose ponytail up and running a finger across her hairline on the back of her head. He checked her ears and nose, then started in on her spine when she finally jumped away, partially from the pain of where he had touched, and partially because it made her uncomfortable that he hadn't even asked to touch her, or even spoken for that matter.
"I'm fine." Her flat voice surprised even herself. When she did open her mouth, she generally tried her best to be somewhat cheerful.
He opened his mouth slightly, then shut it and nodded, before backing away slowly. "Sorry. It looked like you fell hard. Just making sure."
"Thanks." She started off, not bothering to balance her arms, her legs seemed to magically bend with the curves of the ice, walking more gracefully than she had ever before.
Even though she knew she equaled that of an apple in figure, she felt sexy at that moment. Her hips swaying and legs working with the wedges to evenly walk down the road.
She almost forgot that he was behind her. "Ally." It was an almost scolding tone. One a mother would use on a child who was caught sneaking cookies.
"Yes." She kept walking. More like strutting.
He sighed. "Please let me have a look. Make sure nothing is too bruised?"
She kept going, and felt the dread as her heel slipped again. This time he was to her side before she hit the ground and he managed to catch her awkwardly under her arms. He lifted her up again, with the help of an awkward forward body roll on her part.
She made it up and tried to break away from him and then slipped again, this time slamming down on her side, her temple hitting the ice.
She groaned in pain.
"Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn," she heard as his hand wrapped around her right hand and left elbow. He pulled her up again.
She felt blood rush from her head and the world spun. He had six faces.
This was ridiculous. She started to pull away again, but his grip held firm, keeping her upright. "Let's get you home, eh?"
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and wrapped one of her arms around his torso. If she wasn't in pain, she would have commented on its ab definition. But she was in pain. So she didn't.
They made it to their split in roads. She expected him to turn onto his and let her fend for herself, but he continued on with her.
They made it to her mailbox, which it was still another minute to her house from there, and she let go of him to get the mail. The pain seared through her lower back and her head.
But she held her head high and her back straight as she turned. "Thank you for your help. I can make it from here."
He just huffed loudly and irritably took a step back. "Then walk. Prove you're not in pain right now and I'll leave you alone."
Shit. She silently cursed. Turning her face and body away so he couldn't see her expression, she walked, not letting the spasms in her back cause her to double over. "See?"
She kept going, hopping he wouldn't see the tiny flinches as she walked.
"Yeah, I see perfectly." She heard the clicks of his boots on the ice as he walked up behind her. "Come on. Let's get you home."
"I'm fine!" she yelled, swatting his hand away. He grabbed her wrist in his large hand.
"Ally Dawson, so help me homework, if you don't let me help you I will call your father."
"Gosh, you sound like my mother." He lifted his eyebrow at her. "And 'so help me homework?'"
His cheeks were dusted with a light pink color and his eye lashes had collected a few ice crystals, complimenting his icy blue irises. "It's cold out. Get moving!"
She laughed. As in, Ally laughed out loud. She never laughed out loud. Only when a funny joke really deserved it. But this wasn't her hysterical dying zebra laughter she usually exhibited. It was a soft giggle that only pretty girls with a good figure and pom poms in their hands knew how to do. Well, at least it sounded like she was attempting that.
He smirked. He had the audacity to smirk at her.
She rolled her eyes a held out her arm to wrap it around him. When he didn't move, she shook it a bit. He still didn't help. "Are you going to help me or not."
His eyes snapped up and widened before he jumped to help her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. She concentrated on walking steadily on the glassy ice she was walking on. His grip on her would tighten as they came on to slippery parts, and loosen when they walked through slush rut from tires on car driving through it all day.
Alright y'all. For anyone who is following me, y'all've probably seen the similarities between this story and "It started when I noticed that everyone has red eyes." And that is because I didn't like the direction that one took. This is a story that is based off of that one and if you came from my other stories, specifically the aforementioned one, you will see the similarities.
I know that I have a slew of unfinished stories and I am working on all of them, slowly but surely. Can't promise a date because I am currently a fifteen year old sophomore in high school that has an after school job. "Moving mountains" will be my top priority right after this one. Btw, this story is also on Wattpad, but under different character names, although I wrote it for Austin and Ally specifically.
There will be a lot of chapters about her weight, as you might have guessed, but this story is going to be based on my journey through my weight (obviously not the Austin part :.( ) and I personally think it is a story worth telling.
If y'all have any questions let me know. This is going to be hard to write because I am going to try and stay true to what happened with me, minus the romance.
Feel free to leave your opinion. Diversity in opinions are what make them powerful.