Unpretty

by MusikMuse

A companion one-shot to my story, More Than A One Night Stand. Bree is a 16yo girl who wants nothing more than to be popular. She's willing to do anything-even starve herself. This story follows Bree on her journey to become healthier. This story can also be read as a stand alone. But it would be welcomed if you read MTAONS first.

This story is a One-Shot.

It is a companion story to my previous story, More Than A One Night Stand. This story can be read as a stand alone story. But just know that towards the end, is when we are introduced to Edward, the personal trainer.

This story was edited/beta'd by the amazing team at Project Beta.

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Please let the scale show I lost some pounds this time…

Why do cheerleaders need to be skinny, anyway? It was that stupid Makenzie Smith's fault. She was the one who told the whole squad that the flyers needed to be light and look like birds flying in air, not like uncoordinated idiots. Of course, she didn't outright say that the girls who were flyers were fat as barns, but we all knew that that's what she was implying.

How she'd been elected as cheer captain was beyond me.

Maybe she's just intimidated by me since I'm only a sophomore and I'm on the varsity cheer squad.

"Briella Andrea Michaels, get your butt down here right now and eat your breakfast before you miss the bus for school!"

I looked down at the scale one last time to see if maybe if I wished hard enough, it wouldn't still say that I gained three pounds.

I did what all those fitness gurus said to do: eat less and work out more. And what happened? I gained weight instead of losing it. My mom said that I looked just fine, and added the ever popular, "men love a woman with curves."

Obviously high school was a different experience back when she was my age.

My reflection in the mirror showed all of my flaws. My stomach was too round for my liking, and according to my best friend, Kelsie, my butt could have its own orbit, and it was so big.

"Briella, I'm not going to say it again. Get down here and eat your breakfast!"

I rolled my eyes at the empty threat my mother threw at me.

With one last glance at the mirror, I grabbed my backpack and hurried down the stairs. I saw she had a plate of scrambled eggs, pancakes, and bacon with a tall glass of orange juice. It looked mouthwatering, but I had to stop myself–if I wanted to be the perfect example of a flyer, I needed to keep my body nice and trim. So I bypassed the plate of food, grabbed a Granny Smith apple from the basket on the kitchen island, and hurried out to the bus stop.

I plugged my headphones into my ears and cranked up the music as I heard my mom tell me that I needed to eat a healthy breakfast. I yelled over my shoulder at her that I would get something to eat at school.

Little does she know that that's the complete opposite of what I planned to do.

I planned to spend my lunch hour in the weight room. I didn't dare go to any of the heavy weights; I mainly just stuck to the ten-pound weights and did some sit-ups and push-ups. There would be the occasional person in there who would invite me to go with them down to the cafeteria, and I would give them the standard answer: that I had already eaten. Sometimes I would mix it up with telling them that I had brought my lunch, while patting my backpack.

Like at any typical high school, once you passed through those front doors, everyone started judging one another. Some people may deny it and say that they never judged people, but they would be lying.

I made it to my locker without running into Makenzie, and that meant today was already a good day. I hated how she seemed to get sick pleasure out of seeing me squirm–especially since she and I used to be friends back in elementary school. I always thought it was cool that I was friends with a girl who was two grades ahead of me. But once she grew boobs, she dropped me like a hot potato and now made it her life's mission to make my life a living hell.

"Hey, so did you do the extra set of questions Mrs. Fletcher gave us in geometry?" Jessica, a girl who I occasionally talked to since we had lockers right next to each other, asked as she flung books in her

Crap. I knew it was too good to be true that last night's homework flew by so quickly.

"No…crap, she's going to publicly humiliate me for it." I groaned as I flopped my head against the door of my locker.

"What period do you have her class?" Jessica asked as she rooted around in her backpack for something.

"After lunch…" I hesitated, and I secretly hoped that Jessica would come through for me and let me borrow her homework. I was grateful that we shared chemistry class together before lunch, because that meant I could sneak it back to her before any of the teachers got wise.

"Here, just give it back to me in chemistry, Ok, I have Fletcher during your lunch period, remember?" Since our school also included eighth graders, the lunch period separated into three different periods. Some classes would go straight to lunch then go to class. Some would go to class, then stop and go to lunch, and then go back and finish the class. And then there were the unlucky ones who got the last lunch: they ended up with what was left at the end of lunch period—and that was sometimes scraps, it seemed like.

I nodded and quickly accepted her notebook and hurried off to my first period class, world history. My schedule was filled with AP classes, and geometry was the only class that was a piece of cake for me; that's probably why I forgot to do her homework.

After school I hurried to my locker to get the duffel bag I used for cheer practice and went to go change down in the girl's locker room.

It was the beginning of the school year, so it was still somewhat warm, which meant we would be practicing outside today.

"Hopefully you do your stunts better than you did during the last practice, Bree. Oh, and nice choice of outfit. I think I saw the same thing hanging in my mom's closet." Makenzie sneered.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from saying something I knew that I would later regret, which was made even harder when Makenzie and her fan club walked off, laughing at their leader's lame attempt at a joke.

Once a mirror freed up, I quickly put on a minimal amount of makeup and headed out to the football field.

Yet another stupid rule that Makenzie has implemented as cheer captain.

Oh, and god forbid if you actually sweat during practice. I mean, there had been days where it was over ninety degrees outside, and then factoring in the heat index, it felt like triple digits out here sometimes. We had twenty-five-minute breaks per an hour of practice; it's a wonder that we ever got anything done.

When practice finished and I was toweling the sweat off of myself I could hear Makenzie and her friends whispering about me as if I couldn't hear a word they were saying.

"Does she really think she's fooling anyone with her low-rise shorts?"

"Yeah, I mean, she had a muffin top through the whole practice."

"Good for her. I wish I could be as comfortable with how I looked like she is."

That was it. After tonight I was going to have to kick this whole dieting thing into high gear. I would do whatever it took to put Makenzie and her posse in their places and show them that I was as good, if not better, at having the "perfect" body.

When I got home, I raced up to my room and started working on my homework. I remembered vaguely telling my mother that school and cheer practice were fine, and agreeing that I would be downstairs for dinner.

Dinner was an all-out event in my house. My mom would make me and my little brother Paul, who wanted to be referred to as Pauley-D, like that douchebag on that stupid MTV show, sit down at the kitchen island and watch her make dinner. Tonight my mother was cooking her famous enchiladas, but me and Paul both knew that she would secretly buy those frozen family-sized dinners and just put her own twist on them – she would try and hide the boxes in the trash as best as she could.

Now, nothing against my mother and her style of cooking, we always ate good meals, but ever since Mom and Dad split up when I was fourteen and Paul was twelve, it had been hard for my mom, raising two kids on her own. My dad used to have us go visit every weekend, then that turned into every other weekend until finally my dad just stopped coming by to pick us up. My mom still got child support from him, but I'd grown to accept that he was no longer interested in seeing me and my brother.

"Bree, finish your homework later and come down and spend some time with me and your brother."

I rolled my eyes but gave in and walked down the stairs. And I stopped about halfway. The food smelled so good, it had been so long since I'd actually eaten anything as filling as what my mom was making.

"If I've gotta suffer through this crap, so do you, Bree!" my brother shouted at me as I took my seat next to him. I swore the kid had Dad's impatience, it was uncanny how the two were so alike–but heaven forbid you brought it to his attention, what with the whole Dad bailing on us thing.

"Paul, don't talk to your sister like that! Let's talk about school. What did you two do today? How was cheer practice, Bree?" my mother asked with a pleasant smile.

I gave her the cliff notes version of what happened–minus the snide comments that Makenzie and her friends had made about me.

"Whoever designed the cheer uniforms, God bless 'em. Those are some hot uniforms!" Paul said. I think I even saw him drool a bit. That earned him a smack on the hand with the wooden spoon Mom was holding, as well as a verbal reprimand for his crude comment.

I just chose to ignore it. Ever since my brother had discovered that girls weren't covered in cooties, he's been your typical perverted teenage boy. He was just lucky I didn't tell Mom about the collection of Playboy magazines he had stashed away under his mattress.

"So, Bree…tell me how was school today? Any good gossip?"

God, I hate how she seems to always want to live vicariously through me, like high school was the whole big party she never got invited to.

"It was fine; Kelsie heard that they're already holding nominations for homecoming king and queen."

"Kelsie is such a babe..." Paul said, and I'm fairly certain he didn't realize that he said it out loud. I cringed a bit at the idea of my perverted little brother leering after my best friend, and I'm pretty sure that she would feel the same way once I told her.

I couldn't hide the smirk on my face when my brother realized that he had said it out loud for everyone to hear, and he threatened bodily harm if I told Kelsie about his crush.

"Do you seriously think I want my best friend dating some kid who still has to sleep with his baby blanket?! OK, that was a low blow; he hadn't slept with "blankey" for almost three years. I used to tease him about it and even called him Linus a few times–the poor kid never got the reference until after he gave up the blanket.

"Hey! I haven't slept with blankey since forever!" If that was my brother's defense, then it needed work.

"Lord, can you two stop arguing longer than five minutes? I swear, you two are giving me a migraine."

Dinner was good, what little I actually ate. I'd practically mastered the art of making it look like I had eaten almost all of my food; I slid it around until it was a big mushy mess–I was so good I could probably be an extra in one of those vampire movies.

"Aren't you going to finish your dinner, Bree? You've hardly touched your rice." My mother's voice was filled with concern. "I don't care if they want you to wear bells on your shoes; you need to make sure that you're eating well. I swear, ever since you got back from cheer camp I've noticed you've been eating differently than you used to."

"Yeah, by now you'd be on your third helping of food, you oinker!" my idiot brother teased. He then started with the pig noises. I decided to ignore my brother's lame attempt to annoy me and quickly excused myself up to my room.

I looked at myself in the mirror and took inventory. My face looked too puffy. I turned to the side and saw that Makenzie's friend was right: I had a muffin top. I even pinched the extra skin hanging off my midsection. I stepped up on the scale and saw that I had lost a pound. The whole extreme dieting thing I'd been doing—suggested by a girl from cheer camp—was working wonders!

Before I went and lay down to go to sleep, I wrote down in my journal what all happened today and made a note of how many pounds I had lost today. It was a bit discouraging to see that I was starting to hit a plateau, but it was still progress; a pound a day still added up to a slimmer look for me.

And that was all that mattered right?

~*~*~Beauty isn't just skin deep~*~*~

Homecoming is, just a week away, and I had managed to get myself nominated. Some people congratulated me, and a few people said that it was just a joke, that Makenzie arranged it so that my name would end up on the ballot. I didn't let it bother me, and I went on about my day.

By the time lunch rolled around everyone was talking about how Makenzie's plan to humiliate me was both stupid and genius. Someone even went as far to compare the whole thing to the movie Carrie.

Sadly, I could see Makenzie attempting to rig something like that, but she would definitely need help; she wouldn't dare chip her manicured nails.

"Do you even realize how big of deal this is?! I mean, if you win, you could have your pick of the whole school; you could even snag yourself a senior! Have you decided who's going to be your escort? I would totally go and ask Damon –" I cut off her off mid-sentence as we lay on my bed in my room flipping through different magazines. "Kelsie, stop talking and take a breath once in a while. I swear, sometimes I wonder if you have mutant lungs the way you can talk so much. And no, I haven't asked anyone to be my escort." Did I really have to ask someone to be my escort for homecoming?

Worrying about cheerleading is stressful enough, and now I have to get up the nerve to ask some random guy, a guy who just happens to be on the varsity football team, to be my escort for the homecoming court…

"I still don't see why you just don't go up to him. I mean, he's completely single, and he's—"

"And he's got Makenzie's claws sunk in him so deep they'd need to be surgically removed. Kelsie, I'll find someone by next Friday, don't worry about me. I just need your expertise when Mom and I go dress shopping. You know she's going to go all prom dress on me. It'll turn into dress up with her unless you come, so say you'll come?" After I pled my case for her, I could tell that I had her right where I wanted her. "Fine," Kelsie said with an exasperated sigh. I couldn't hide the grin forming across my face. "I'll go with you and your mom, and only because you know shopping is my kryptonite!"

"So, is it true that Melanie is still in the hospital for OD'ing on some of her mom's prescription pills?" Kelsie asks as she flipped through one of my Vogue magazines. It wasn't a secret that Melanie dipped into her mom's diet pills, but apparently she had taken one too many and ended up having a seizure in the middle of the lunchroom.

The ambulance had been called, and they rushed her off to the hospital. The rumor mill had started going full blast, and by the end of the school day there were rumors going around that Melanie cut herself, and some people – Makenzie – said that she was suicidal and joked that she should've done a better job if she was trying to kill herself.

"Bree, Kelsie, I couldn't help but overhear you two talking, and I have some free time before I have to fix dinner. Paul is over at his friend Jared's house, so why don't we go shopping for some dresses? Would your mother mind you staying for dinner, Kelsie?" My mother was a bit too excited about the whole dress shopping thing; she obviously didn't hear the whole story about how I was nominated as a joke.

But if it meant that I would get to go shopping and spare no expense—to an extent, of course.

With no objections, Kelsie and I hopped into my mom's car and went to a cute little boutique a couple miles away from the house.

"So, have you taken your driver's test yet, Kels? I still haven't gotten my permit yet." That last part was directed at my mother.

"You know the deal Bree. If you keep your grades up and do well by the time midterms come out, we'll discuss the topic of you trying to get your permit again then." Of course she would go with the standard mom-answer.

I swear you forget and put the car in reverse instead of drive, and accidentally run over some garbage cans and suddenly you're not suited to drive, let alone get your permit to learn how to drive.

How do my parents think I'll learn if I don't have my permit?

But that didn't matter for now, because once we got to the boutique, I saw a whole rack of dresses calling my name. However, there was one dress that looked perfect. It had a scoop neckline with a beach silhouette–I had looked through a bunch of fashion magazines, and this was the dress that would best flatter my body type. The other girls nominated would be green with envy when they get a good look at me in this dress.

When the lady behind the counter came over to help, I asked her if it came in any color besides blue.

"Of course, let me go check what we have in the back. What size do you want me to look for?"

"She's a size eig—"

"Size four will be fine," I said, cutting off my mother.

"Since when are you a size four?"

"Can't a girl hope? I mean, this dress will look amazing on me at homecoming! Oh, Mom can I get my hair done too? Please, tell me that I can." I was trying to deflect my mom's inquiry into why I was asking for something that was two sizes too small–possibly.

"Oh, I can see it now; you have cute little ringlets in your hair and part of your hair pulled back in a cute little clip. Will you let me do your makeup that day?" Kelsie asked as she was all but physically preventing herself from jumping up and down with excitement." I still want to know how you managed to drop two dress sizes! I distinctly remember buying you school clothes not even a month ago. Are you telling me you've lost weight? Bree, you know you don't need to change your body to impress others."

Thankfully the saleswoman came back out with the same type of dress, but brought back different two different colors. "OK, so we have that same dress in watermelon or canary yellow. Which one would you like to try on first?"

I pointed to the watermelon-colored dress and hurried off to the dressing room.

You've got to be kidding me! I've been practically starving myself, and it's still too tight?! This can't be happening!

"Come out, Bree. I want to see the dress on you." I wanted to storm out of the dressing room and strangle my mother, but only because right now I was on the verge of having an emotional breakdown.

"Yeah, I want to see if it looks as good on you as it did on the hanger!" Kelsie was starting to get to get on my nerves. I needed to calm down so neither one of them would find out that the dress I got was too small.

They didn't really expect me to come out in a dress that I couldn't even zip up, did they? I tried psyching myself up to go out and prove my mother right that I wasn't any skinner than I thought I was.

"Do you need help, sweetheart?" the woman asked softly from the other side of the door.

God, I want to just give up and crawl into a corner and never come out.

I managed to fight back tears as I whispered to the woman that I needed a bigger dress size, and I was a bit deflated when the woman came back with the dress a size bigger in blue. She apologized to me and told me that the store had only a select number of dresses in each color, and she wouldn't get this dress in yellow or watermelon for a couple weeks.

It didn't matter, and I slipped into the dress. It was still a bit tight, but it wasn't as tight as the first dress, so that meant that all I had to do was continue on this diet of mine, and soon I would be a size four—maybe even a size two.

"Oh my goodness, Briella, you look absolutely stunning in that dress."

I blushed at my mother's comment. I wished I could accept compliments better, but I had to agree, this blue dress really brightened my face, and it even showed up my slimming legs.

I may not be the size I want to be yet, but I'm getting closer!

"Wow, now if that doesn't make Damon ask you out, I don't know what will!"

I rolled my eyes at Kelsie's comment, but the more I looked at myself in the mirror, the more I started believing it myself.

"OK, great, we can make some small alterations if need be, and it should be ready by the time you need it, which is—?"

"Is next Wednesday enough time to get the alterations done?" My mom asked the saleswoman.

"Wait, what alterations? Isn't this dress perfect the way it is?" I hugged my arms around me as I looked at myself in the mirror again. I supposed it did need to be let out a bit. "I mean, couldn't we just buy the dress as it is? I can lose enough weight by homecoming, Mom. It's just a few measly inches, it's not that hard." I made sure to give my mom my signature pouty look. I could see the internal struggle my mother was having with herself; she couldn't decide if she would give in to my pleas, or stick to her guns. Finally when she nodded her head in agreement I couldn't hold back a squeal of joy. We were leaving with the dress, and all I would have to do would be skip a few meals here and there; then I would be all set for homecoming.

Every night for the rest of the week, I hurried up to my room after school and tried on my dress; some days I could fit it just right, and then there would be days when I must've been bloated, because it fit even tighter than it had when I first bought it4

I skipped both breakfast and lunch Monday, and it paid off a little in the sense that Damon Richards asked me if I had an escort lined up to walk me down the track at the homecoming celebration. Thank god I was able to accept his offer without being a complete bumbling idiot.

Kelsie bombarded me on the bus ride to my house with a million different questions and showed me different styles she thought I should do my hair to go with my dress. I told her that I wanted to go with my hair down, and curl it into little ringlets. I showed her the cute blue flower I would put in my hair to accent my dress, and she agreed that it would definitely elevate my look.

When the bus screeched to a halt at the stop I needed, I said a quick goodbye to Kelsie and promised to text her later.

"Do you seriously think you even have a chance at winning that stupid homecoming queen thing? I mean, have you seen Makenzie Smith? The girl is a freaking twenty on a scale of ten!" I rolled my eyes as I tried to ignore my brother on the walk from the bus stop to the house.

"Shut up, Paul. You wouldn't want Mom to find out about your—"

"Find out about what?"

Both of us stiffened at the sudden appearance of our mom. She was holding a laundry basket full of clothes, obviously looking for dirty clothes in need of washing. Paul and I quickly changed the subject, and I put my dirty clothes in the basket. Paul used the distraction to run to his room and lock the door behind him.

I sat down at my vanity table and started brushing out the rats in my hair.

"Maybe it's just you getting older, but I remember you with so much hair as a baby, and those curls, I mean they used to go on for days. Now your hair seems to have tamed a bit. What a shame; I miss the curls."

I looked at myself in the mirror and saw that my mom had a point. My hair used to be so thick that if I didn't run a comb through it at least once a day, it would be a tangled mess. But now it was so flat, and if I wasn't mistaken, it seemed thinner than I remembered.

'Don't worry about it. You're closer to your ideal body, and your hair will go back to normal soon enough. You just gotta keep remembering the big picture—putting Makenzie Smith to shame once and for all.'

"Bree, Paul, come on down. Dinner'll be ready in five!"

Whoa…

I must've gotten up too fast or something, because I was so lightheaded, I felt like I was going to fall back down. I braced myself against the chair, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

"Briella Andrea Mi—"

"I'm coming, go ahead and start without me," I yelled. Thankfully the dizziness passed quickly, and I hurried downstairs to sit down and pretend to eat my entire dinner. I would have to make sure I made it more believable this time,

"So is it true that you had to bribe that Damon idiot to be your date for homecoming?" Paul asked as he shoveled in another forkful of tonight's dinner. I threw a dinner roll and hit him square in the middle of his head; of course I was scolded for doing so, but it was so worth it.

Paul kept teasing about how it was obvious that Damon didn't really like me, and said that he had heard Damon was asked by Makenzie to ask me if I wanted him to be my escort. I was just about to risk getting grounded myself, but Mom stepped in and stopped my brother.

"So…do I get to meet this Damon Richards fellow, or will I just have to wait until homecoming night?" my mother asked while she put the leftovers of in the fridge.

Of course she would want to meet him.

"It's not that big of a deal, Mom. He's just walking me down the track at halftime; it's not like he asked me out on a date or anything, I said as I followed her back in the dining room to help her clear the table.

"Of course it's a big deal, Bree. I mean, it's not every day that a girl gets nominated for homecoming queen and asked out by the most popular guy in school."

Unless you're in some TV family movie.

"Mom, it's not that big of a deal, really. I mean, all he's doing is just being arm candy besides, I 'm fairly certain that he was forced to ask me as a joke."

"Now, I don't think Makenzie could be that devious. I've never understood why you continue to think that she has it out for you."

I wanted to pull my hair out – my mother was so oblivious. I quickly excused myself and headed up to my room.

When it finally came time to sleep, I quickly did one last weigh-in before bed, and as usual wrote in my journal what all I ate, and made sure to note that my dress was almost too loose—this diet was working wonders. I slept wonderfully knowing that my dieting was doing exactly what I wanted it to.

~*~*~Inner beauty never needs makeup~*~*~

"Would you hold still? I don't want to burn you with this curling iron!" Kelsie yelled as she popped her bubble gum in my ear.

She better hope to God that she doesn't get her gum stuck in my hair!

I still couldn't believe that it was finally homecoming and Damon had offered to give me a ride to the game in his car. He would be here in an hour, and I still needed to do my makeup.

"So tell me again exactly how Damon asked to give you a ride." I felt my cheeks flush with heat thinking about it now.

I told her how Damon had walked up to my locker 0

Once Kelsie finished with my hair, she helped me into my dress. I practically starved myself all week to make sure the dress fit just right, and I couldn't help but smile when Kelsie commented how she would have to use some safety pins to pin in the dress so it didn't just hang off me.

When Damon finally arrived I was still putting on the final touches of makeup. I was just about to walk out of my room to make my grand appearance walking down the stairs, when Kelsie stopped me and gave me a stick of mint gum. She whispered that I had bad breath, and I quickly took it and popped it into my mouth. Since only starving myself wasn't working as fast as I would've liked, I'd had to resort to throwing up some of my food during week. People at school and my mom were getting suspicious of my lack of eating around them; so I had to pretend everything was OK and make sure they all saw me eat. Well, it made me nauseated, and I'd hurried to the bathroom later and thrown it all back up.

I'd been doing that for the past couple of days, and thankfully no one knew—not even Paul.

"Wow, you look amazing in that dress." Damon said. His expression looked as if he were in a trance of some sorts.

It was just a simple sentence, but it made my heart soar, and I couldn't help but smile. I gave Paul a scowl when I heard him making gagging noises as Mom fumbled with her camera to take a few pictures.

"Mom, I think you've taken enough pictures. We better get going if we're going to make it to the game on time" I said. I knew that she wanted to make sure she got enough pictures, but I don't think she needed fifty pictures to remember this day.

"Your mom seemed nice, I thought it was really sweet that she wanted to take our picture." I couldn't speak; his words caught me off guard. I supposed I was expecting Damon to be this cliché jock who was a jerk, and worried more over his appearance.

I about swooned when Damon opened the door for me. It just showed how much of a gentleman he was, and that I was too quick to judge him.

Before I could over think what Damon said about my mother, Kelsie started in on the latest gossip and tried to get me and Damon involved, but after a few minutes we were left in uncomfortable silence.

"Your dress is really pretty…" Damon said. We were at a stoplight and all I could think about was, what could I say back that wouldn't sound completely stupid?

I tried to smile, but I'm pretty sure I looked like a complete idiot.

The entire car ride was spent in the most uncomfortable silence, and that was saying a lot, actually—I was the queen of awkwardness.

"So I'll see you at halftime?"

I couldn't form any words and just nodded my head "yes" as Damon smirked and hurried off to meet up with the team and get ready for the game.

"I still can't believe that Damon-freaking-Richards is actually your homecoming escort! Don't worry, I plan to take plenty of pictures, and I will take one of Makenzie dying from shock when you're crowned queen!"

I couldn't help but smile at the idea of finally putting that cheer bitch in her place.

I hurried off to find the other five girls who were nominated for homecoming queen. Mrs. Robins, the cheer coach, and the assistant principal, Mrs. Rodgers, showed us how we would walk down the track, and what to do if our name was the one called over the loud speaker.

My nerves must have been getting to me, because I couldn't seem to catch my breath, and the lightheadedness was starting to come back; but I found that if I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth, the dizziness lessened and I could actually walk without feeling like I was going to fall over. Once we went through the routine a few times, we were released and free to what we wanted, as long as we all met at the gate about five minutes before the end of the first half.

I would need to thank my dad, if he ever bothered coming around again, for teaching me all there was to know about football. We were down by a touchdown with seven minutes to go in the first quarter, and one of our defensive linebackers was already out with a pulled hamstring. I vaguely heard Kelsie asking me if I wanted anything form the concession, and I mumbled that I just wanted a bottle of water.

Why Kelsie couldn't get into football like me was beyond my comprehension. I mean, with her it was all clothes and shopping for clothes. I swore, there were times when Kelsie and I would be at a football game, I would be sitting next her trying to explain that a team had four chances to score on their turn before they had to give the ball back. But I think all the hair products she uses on her hair acts a force field for sports.

I might have been better off trying to explain football to a bunch of kindergartners than Kelsie.

As the clocked ticked down the seconds to when I would have to go in front of the entire school, as well as those who came especially for homecoming, I was becoming terrified. I could feel my heart rate quickening, and if I wasn't careful I was pretty sure I would start hyperventilating.

"Here, it's not cold, but the concessions are overcrowded, so be glad I was able to get you your stupid water," Kelsie said. She plopped down next to me and crunched on her nachos. She had no idea how lucky she was to be able to eat that kind of crap and still manage to stay the skinny twig she was. Me? I had to practically starve myself—which I was already doing — to make sure my dress fit just right.

"Will all homecoming court nominees please meet Mrs. Robins and Mrs. Rodgers down by the gate?"

That was my cue. I shrugged off my jacket and carefully walked down the stairs of the bleachers, and the stupid dizziness started coming back full force, but thankfully no one was paying attention to me; they were too busy watching us intercept a pass meant for the other team.

"You don't look too good, Bree. Is the idea of losing to me finally starting to get you?" Makenzie sneered. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me a nervous wreck. I had to admit though; her dress looked amazing…if this were a Victoria secret's fashion show. Her dress was had a plunging neckline, and I was very surprised that she wasn't asked to cover up.

But I decided to take the high road and rolled my eyes and preferred not to say anything back. The buzzer sounded, letting everyone know that the first half was over and halftime was about to start.

Though I knew that Damon was my escort, a small part of me thought that he would forget and continue to jog with the rest of the team back to the locker room, and I couldn't help but grin like a complete idiot when I saw him looking for me in the line of girls and broke from the pack to come over to stand with me. Damon was still wearing his pads, so he looked a bit top heavy, but even with the pads he looked absolutely smoking hot.

He was coerced by Makenzie to get my hopes up so that I would end up the loser and Damon would end up being part of the scheme to publicly humiliate me in front of the entire school—not to mention

"Hey, Bree, are you feeling OK?" Damon asked as he took a step closer to me.

"I'm fine. I think my nerves are getting the best of me." It wasn't completely a lie. I was nervous, but I didn't think being nervous made you lightheaded either.

"And now we introduce you to Makenzie Smith, Makenzie is varsity cheer captain, she is a member of the Spanish Club, involved with the DECA, and part of the Student Council. Makenzie also wants to go to school to become a dental hygienist. Please give a round of applause for Makenzie Smith."

When it was finally my turn, my knees about buckled out from under me, but thankfully Damon was beside me to catch me.

"You've got this, Bree. You're the prettiest girl, and I have a hunch you're going to show Makenzie that even a sophomore has what it takes to be homecoming queen." Damon spoke; his voice seemed to have this calming effect on me.

Hearing Damon say those nice things really helped nerves, but the dizziness and nausea still threatened.

"Briella Michaels. Briella is an animal lover, and she writes that once she graduates high school, she wants to go on to college and study veterinary medicine. Her favorite subject is world history, and she says that she plans to have a houseful of dogs one day. Let's give a round of applause for Briella Michaels."

God kill me now, I never was good with all the attention directed at me; and the fact that I was on the verge of throwing up didn't help the matter any.

They had a stage set up on the track, and I about tripped over my own feet as I walked with Damon up the ramp.

Mrs. Rodgers had the crown and sash all ready, and Mrs. Robins ,as well as the principal, stood ready for the picture that would come after the announcement.

The bleachers and the people in them started to blur as I stood waiting. God, it felt like they were taking forever.

"And now, your new Curie Metro High School Homecoming Queen is…RIELLA MICHAELS!"

I could hear the crowd erupt into applause and cheers, and I think I could hear Makenzie shouting and making a complete idiot out of herself, which would've been a sight to see. If I didn't feel like I could fall down any second.

"Don't look so surprised, Bree. I knew you would win," Damon whispered in my ear as he walked me up to the front of the stage. I was left alone when he took a step back from me, and I deeply regretted that; he was the one thing keeping me from falling flat on my face.

The assistant principal and principal came forward and congratulated me and had me pose with them for a picture that would end up in the school's newspaper as well as the local one.

Then it all came at me at once. Everything was louder, like everyone was shouting, and my vision started to blur. I could hear people yelling and someone asking if I was OK. I couldn't answer them though; I was focusing my attention on trying to slow my breathing down—I felt like I couldn't catch my breath.

Way to go, Bree! You win homecoming queen and you faint like a complete idiot!

I could hear someone asking if I was OK, and I wanted to nod my head—I wanted to say anything—but nothing would come out of my mouth; at that point I was better off succumbing to the sleep that was threatening to overcome me. But just before I let it take over, I could hear someone whispering that someone was coming and that I was going to be OK.

~*~*~Beauty is not in the face; Beauty is a light in the heart~*~*~

Where was I? The last thing I remembered was that I was having some kind of panic attack on the stage at homecoming, and now I was in some strange room with a bunch of beeping machines…

Wait…why am I in a hospital?

Oh god, someone must've overreacted and called my mom.

I felt fine.

I started pushing myself up with my hands to get into a better position, when I felt the stinging sensation in my right hand. I looked down at my hand and saw that I had an IV in it and it was wrapped with so much tape, I was pretty sure they used a whole roll of it.

I tried to sit up from my reclined position and when I put pressure down on my right hand—the hand that the IV was in—I was met with a sharp pain through my hand. Once I was in a more comfortable position, I flopped back against my bed.

"Well, it's about time you woke up, missy. You've got a lot of people worried about you out there," A soft and gentle voice said from beside my bed. It took all the energy I had to turn my head and see a woman, who was probably in her late twenties or early thirties, writing something down on a clipboard.

Since when does it take so much energy to move my head?

"Don't try to speak honey, you need your rest. That IV in your hand there is feeding your body nutrients that you were lacking. Your parents are down the hall getting something to drink from the vending machine. Out in the waiting area is a girl who looks like she needs her roots touched up and a boy waiting patiently. They say they're your friends."

I didn't feel like hearing my mom and dad yell at me and—wait, did that nurse just say that my "parents" are here? My mom and my dad are here…in the same building? Oh god, I'm dead, yes, that is the only explanation why my dad, who stopped making an effort to see Paul and me when I was fourteen, is here?

I wasn't sure if I should be thrilled that my dad was there or completely terrified. I wasn't sure what was going to happen now. I tried mentally preparing myself for when my mom and dad

The nurse soon showed herself out, and I was left alone with my thoughts;

Wait, did that nurse lady say that "a boy" was here with Kelsie? Damon is here?

Before I could go in full-on panic mode, in strolled Paul with his nose in whatever handheld game it was that a fourteen-year-old boy plays nowadays. He sat down in a chair and was so engrossed in his game that I was fairly certain that he didn't know that I was awake and alert.

"You know…if you stare at that screen any longer you're going to go cross-eyed…"

That seemed to be the shock that my brother needed because the game fell from his hands into his lap, and I had his undivided attention.

"So Sleeping Ugly finally woke up? You're in deep shit…Mom and Dad have been at each other's throats the whole time since you decided to faint center stage at homecoming. I bet you're all over YouTube by now, Bree, if not all over Facebook."

I wanted to punch that stupid smirk off of my brother's face but decided to conserve my energy—it would be needed for when I faced off with my mom and dad.

"Thanks, Paul, your sympathy for my humiliation is heartwarming," I deadpanned.

"Hey, I'm your brother and I care, but you don't need me fawning all over you just because you were too stupid and stopped eating." I could tell I had hit a nerve with him.

Wait a minute! How does Paul know? If he knows then it's possible that soon Mom would find out as well. How did this happen?

"All the signs are there Bree, it doesn't take a genius to see how you make it look like you eat the food Mom makes, and the when you tell Mom that you ate before you got home is just stupid. Do I need to go on?" Wow, I never realized that Paul cared so much; he always acts like he could care less about what I'm doing.

"Well, I think it goes without saying, but you can't tell mom—she will kill me if—"

"I'm telling you, Vanessa, how could you not see this coming? The girl is practically skin and bones."

"Chris, just because you send me the monthly child support checks doesn't mean you have any say in how I raise our children. You made that decision pretty clear when you decided to walk out on your family!"

Oh boy…they were still arguing over the whole Dad abandoning me and Paul thing. That would definitely last a while. It was perfect; it would give me some time to mentally prepare my defense. I mean, I was pretty sure that I had a solid defense; not everyone could just stop drinking soda and lose ten pounds. I tried everything—I tried starving myself and that seemed to be the way to go for me.

"They've been going at it since the paramedics brought you into the ER. You'd think they'd run out of things to argue about," Paul said, sounding a bit dejected. Their fighting was reminiscent of the fights that had led up the divorce.

Speaking of divorce, you know how some kids never saw the divorce coming? Well, Paul and I knew some time before; maybe even before Mom and Dad had. When they finally did file for divorce, already knowing didn't make it hurt any less.

"Where are Kelsie and Damon? The nurse said that they were here…"

"Lover boy and your hot best friend left a few minutes ago. They told me to tell you, when you woke up, that they would be back tomorrow—something to do with visiting hours being over. I don't know, I kinda wasn't listening. I was a bit distracted by—"

"Finish that sentence and I will throw this bedpan at you so hard they will need to surgically remove it from your face!" I still couldn't even begin to think about my brother's pervy fascination with Kelsie. I mean, it was so obvious that she wasn't the least bit interested in him.

I was about to follow through on my threat, to pummel him with the bed pan for going on and on about how pretty Kelsie was and how he wanted to ask her out, when I saw my parents walk towards the room, only to stop short of entering.

Apparently, my being awake startled them.

You would think that they would be jumping for joy that their daughter isn't knocking on death's door…

"Bree…um, we didn't know you were awake already, sweetheart…we thought that a nurse would've come and let us know sooner."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at my mother. She must think that I overheard her and dad arguing again—she would be right.

"What your mother means to say is that… We're just glad that you're OK, Ells."

My jaw locked as my dad tried to use the nickname he used to call me—before he decided to leave me, mom, and Paul.

"So, do you know when I can finally go home? I feel fine."

That was a lie; I feel like death warmed over, but if I say that then I may never leave.

"We won't know that until we hear from the doctor," my dad said, "and we were told by one of the nurses—the one with the Jennifer Aniston haircut—that your doctor wouldn't be in until sometime tomorrow morning; she was very vague on the details."

Since when did Dad know who Jennifer Aniston was? It didn't matter. I wanted to go home, not stay in some uncomfortable hospital bed and be forced to eat hospital food.

But it was made clear that I wasn't going anywhere and that mom would be staying the night with me, which meant that Dad and Paul were having a sleepover.

Just great.

Thankfully, morning came rather quickly, and I was given soup to drink—they didn't want to take the chance of me throwing up whatever it was they tried to pass off as scrambled eggs.

It was nearly noon, and the doctor was still a no-show. I was itching to get the OK to go home and get back to school and do some major damage control. I'm pretty sure that Makenzie Smith was already trying to spread lies about me through the school. I tried to ask for my phone, but my mom still insisted on keeping it hostage.

"Bree, you need to calm down. The doctor will be in as soon as he can. The nurse said that he was running a bit behind this morning, and even if he does give you the green light, you're staying home from school until you're feeling better."

I wanted to scream at her. She had no idea the stress of being in a high school with Makenzie. If I didn't do immediate damage control to try and salvage whatever was left of my social life at school.

I thanked god when Kelsie walked in with her phone in hand. When she saw that I was awake and talking with my family, I'm surprised that she didn't have a full-blown panic attack. She was sputtering nonsense and once she was able to catch her breath, she was able to tell me that she had tried to convince people that I wasn't a drug addict, but there were still people that believed the lies Makenzie and her friends were spreading about me.

I about pulled my hair out but quickly folded my hands in my lap when I caught a glimpse of Damon getting out of the elevator. I felt the air leave my lungs, and I had to remind myself that I needed to keep breathing; otherwise, I would surely pass out.

"Here, take this," Kelsie whispered as she handed me a napkin, "you got a bit of drool on your chin."

I playfully smacked her hand away, wadded up the napkin, and threw it back in her face.

Just as Damon walked in and opened his mouth, in strolled Doctor Bad Timing.

"Hello, Ms. Michaels, I'm Dr. St. James, but feel free to use my given name, Alaric. I had a chance to look over your chart, and it says that you came in very dehydrated, and if I'm reading this right," the doctor said as he was reading over one of the notes the nurses put in my chart, "one nurse noted that you looked malnourished."

The doctor kept going on and on about how I needed to take better care of myself, and that if I wasn't careful I could wind up back in the hospital. I tuned him out about halfway through his speech. I was too focused on trying to not look like a total idiot in front of Damon, who was out in the hallway with Paul, and he was pretending to look interested in whatever it was that Paul was showing him on his phone.

After the doctor finished his lecture about how I needed to take better care of myself he left to check on his other patients. Personally, I think the doctor was full of it and he had no clue what my school life was like—he had no right to lecture me.

"Bree, you heard the doctor, he wants to keep you here for observation. I know that to you the weekend feels like an eternity, but think of it as a vacation from all the 'drama' you say you have at school. All the kids would kill to be forced to miss school." I knew my mom was right, but it still sucked to know that I would have to spend practically the entire weekend in this stupid hospital.

"The whole school didn't make a complete idiot out of themselves in front of everyone, and now have the whole school thinking they're some crackhead junkie!" OK I admit I was exaggerating a bit, but I was fairly certain that it was just a matter of time before everyone started treating me differently. I'm going to have to change schools! I continued spiraling out of control, and I didn't even notice when Damon wrapped a calming arm around my shoulders. I'm surprised that the monitors didn't go berserk, because I felt like my hammering heart would pound right out of my chest.

Kelsie was able to direct my attention elsewhere and she handed me one of her magazines she keeps stashed in her oversized purse. We had just been comparing outfits in the magazines when out of nowhere Kelsie brought up the idea of going for a stroll around the hallways on this floor of the hospital.

When Damon volunteered to go for a walk with me, in place of Kelsie, I'll admit I was a bit surprised. It was still strange to see him sticking around; I thought that he would've made a clean getaway when he knew that I was going to be fine. But he made an effort to make sure that he stayed close to me—and from what I've gathered he hasn't left my side since I passed out back at the football field.

"So…um…just know that I'm glad you're OK. You sure scared me when you fainted. It came out of nowhere. I was so glad when I saw you had woken up just before the EMTs got to you."

Wait a darn minute…is Damon Richards—the same Damon Richards on the varsity football team—actually tongue-tied? Maybe Kelsie is right… maybe he really does like me.

"Yeah, guess I was just so surprised that I won, I forgot to breathe and passed out."

I knew that it was a lie, but I hoped that he bought it. I didn't need anyone else getting wise to my new—not to mention working—diet plan. When Damon didn't question it, I said silent prayers, and we continued our walk around the pediatric ward.

It became a regular thing while I was in the hospital, and when I finally was able to go home Sunday night I didn't even need to bother asking permission, my mother invited Damon over for dinner. It would've been perfect if my dad hadn't invited himself over too.

According to Paul, Damon had already met Mom and Dad. I was surprised when Paul told me that Dad gave him a hard pat on the back and hugged him; apparently

We got back to the house, and I was about to show Damon up to my room when my dad said, "Briella, you know the rules, you aren't allowed to have boys up in your room!"

Way to be subtle, Dad…

So Damon and I decided to hang out in the living room and just talk; somehow talking to Damon seemed to come easy for me.

"So…I know that you probably heard different reasons why I asked you if I could be your escort to homecoming." Where was Damon going with this? It was public knowledge that Makenzie had it in for me since day one.

"Yeah, I know why you asked me; it's because Makenzie bribed you to ask me. I'm not an idiot Damon, I—"

"Yes, that's all completely true—Makenzie did bribe me to ask you—but I used it as an excuse to talk to you." Did Damon just say what I think he did? Did this mean that he liked me even before Makenzie tried to use him as a pawn in her plan?

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I wanted to be extra sure. I didn't want to take the chance of me sounding like a complete idiot.

"I'm saying that I've liked you for a long time Bree. I like the way you stand up to Makenzie, and I love how you tuck your hair behind your ears when you get nervous, I like everything about you." If I wasn't already blushing, I sure was then. Damon Richards all but said that he likes me—dare I say love me!

Before we knew it, it was time for dinner. My mom invited both Kelsie and Damon for dinner, and was ecstatic when Damon said that he would love to stay. My dad would also stay for dinner; I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that. I was just about to ask Damon to sit next to me when my dad told Paul to sit there and said that Damon could sit across the table next to Kelsie.

He is really starting to annoy me with his "doting father" act.

Dinner was very quiet—almost awkward—and Paul asked if Uncle Nick was coming over to visit.

Uncle Nick was dad's best friend growing up. They weren't actually brothers, but they'd always been so close it was basically like he was our uncle; I remember looking at my dad's old high school yearbooks and seeing a few pictures of the two of them getting into trouble together. Then there were the college years . I can remember Dad and Uncle Nick talking about old times, and how Dad had to bail Nick out of jail practically on a daily basis for various things.

"I don't know, Pauley. Nick's been busy lately, but I know that he misses seeing you kids."

I couldn't help but smile at the thought of finally seeing Uncle Nick again. Paul and I were excited, but I noticed that Mom wasn't smiling; in fact, she was scowling. Noticing that she was being stared at, she quickly got up and hurriedly cleared the table.

Paul stole Damon from me to show him whatever game he thought Damon was interested in seeing, but the look Damon gave me before following Paul showed me that he was never interested in video games in the first place.

I flopped down on the couch soon after Damon went upstairs with Paul and flipped through the different stations before finally landing on some lame game show that would help me pass the time.

I was starting to root for the contestant when I saw my father walking over to me from the kitchen I wanted to get up and run to my room. I knew that he wanted to try and make nice, but I wasn't in the mood to hear his excuses.

"Ells, I want you to know that I'm going to try and be here for you and Paul more. I know that you don't have any reason to forgive what I did to you and your brother, and I don't expect you to, but I would like it if you would please stop this destructive path you're going down. You aren't doing anyone any good doing what you're doing. You are fine just the way you are."

Was my dad really trying to be a parent now; after walking out on me, Paul, and Mom? I wanted to scream at him. But instead I chose to let out all of my frustrations and tell him exactly how I felt about him leaving us behind.

"You're really going to try and be a dad to me now after two years of silence? You just abandoned us, and we hadn't heard a word for you or seen you for almost two years, Dad! I don't care if you're my dad, but you have no say in how I run my life!" I stormed up to my room and locked the door behind me. I went and found my secret stash and started demolishing a bag of Lays potato chips. That had become a normal thing for me lately, even before homecoming.

"Briella, you've been in your room for a while are you OK sweetheart?" My mom would ask me from the other side of my door.

I would have to quickly stash away my bag of chips, or whatever junk food I could get my hands on that day. Today, it happened to be a whole package of Oreo mint cookies, and I had to quickly hide them under my bed, out of sight, then I would let her in. It seems that my mom was never the wiser about my binge eating.

"Briella, are you ok? You came home from school today and ran straight up to your room what happened? Did everything go alright at cheer practice?"

Everything went horribly at cheer practice. Once again Makenzie made a snide remark about how I still looked too chubby to be a flyer, and that if I didn't do something about it she would find someone else to fill my spot and I would be stuck down on the mat.

"Everything's fine Mom, promise. I just wanted to get a head start on my homework." That wasn't a total lie. I had homework that needed to get done. I just didn't want to hear about how I was probably to blame. Now I know that she's mom and that she loves me, but she would tell me that I was overreacting and that Makenzie was just a very tough cheer captain.

Once my mom left my room to go check in with Paul I quickly shut the door and locked it behind me. I practically dove to the edge of my bed and pulled out the Oreo's and started going to town. I polished off about half of the package before I finally felt in control and didn't want to punch a hole in my wall.

As I sat there soaking in the fact that I had just eaten half a box of cookies, I suddenly felt like I was going to be sick. I hurried to the bathroom and threw it all up. I was relieved that I no longer had that junk in my stomach and I felt a million times lighter.

"Briella Andrea Michaels," I was surprised that my dad remembered my middle name, "you better open this door right now!"

I wasn't about to open the door so I could be yelled at by a man who popped in and out of my life whenever he felt like it.

"Don't make me get your mother."

Nice try, she's more than likely on my side after I saw the way she was glaring at you at dinner.

"Bree, open the door please. Let's talk calmly about this, OK?" my dad asked as his temper was starting to wane.

I took a few seconds to gather my nerve and hide my stash of food, and then I finally let him in. I plopped down on the bed and tried my hardest to avoid eye contact. I was still mad at him, but seeing the hurt and concern in his eyes made my hard exterior waver just a bit.

"Ells, just because I left your mother doesn't mean I left you or your brother. I will admit that I haven't been around to see you kids for some time, but I hope that you and Paul will change your minds. Please tell me that you will at least think about it?"

I couldn't help but look my father in the eyes. I could see that he was genuine and wanted to reconnect with us, but I just wasn't sure how I felt about the idea; I didn't want to get my hopes up and then have Paul and me left hanging once again.

~*~*~Everybody dies but not everybody lives~*~*~

"Mr. and Mrs. Michaels, we've run numerous amounts of tests, and it's in my best opinion that your daughter, Briella, needs to be admitted into a rehabilitation facility. It says here in her chart that she was admitted into the hospital a few months ago after fainting at a homecoming game. The doctor assigned to that case noted that Briella was dehydrated and very weak. He and her nurse noted in her chart that there was a possibility that she could have an eating disorder. Have you talked to Briella about any of this since her last hospital visit?"

It always annoys me how doctors talk to the parent out in the hall, and think that's enough distance from the kid so they can't overhear them.

In my defense I thought I had everything under control. I mean, I was feeling less dizzy and had finally perfected pretending to eat all of my dinners.

I even managed to fool my dad, who had kept his promise and started visiting us more frequently.

I just wish today was one of those days.

"So what does this mean?" Leave it to Mom to want the doctor to tell her flat out what needs to be done and not have someone beat around the bush.

"It means that your daughter is sick; all the signs are there. Has she been skipping meals? Does she make excuses for not eating food? These are questions that you should start thinking about. If you like, I can get you pamphlets about eating disorders. We can treat the dehydration and the broken arm, but I suggest you look into getting her into a support group and good counseling if she refuses to go to the rehab facility." With that the doctor hand my father a few pamphlets and quickly go to check on his other patients.

Way to go, Bree, you wouldn't be here if you hadn't passed out yet again. Granted, breaking your arm in two places falling from the top of the cheer pyramid didn't help things all that much.

Yeah, I may have been doing a better job of managing my diet, and keeping my parents clueless, but when I fainted from the top of the pyramid—let's just say that the drug addict rumors started up again.

I knew one thing was for sure, and that was that I would not be going to some stupid support group where they expect you to cry and pour your heart out in front of other strangers. I was fine; I had a handle on the situation. Geez, just because I passed out and broke my arm people thought that I was like this fragile porcelain doll.

When I finally got back home and shuttered myself in my room, I scrolled through Facebook. Thankfully, Kelsie managed to help with the rumors Makenzie and everyone else were trying to spread about me being a drug addict and OD'ing on whatever drug it was that I had. I felt my heart warm when I saw that Damon was one of the few people to defend me.

I was just about to post a status update when there was a soft knock on the door.

"I don't want to talk about it, Mom." I knew it was her, she was the only one who ever knocked on my door anymore; Dad would knock as he walked in, and Paul, well, there wasn't much that could be said for him. I let out a sigh and tell my mom she can come in. I know what' she's going to try and say and I might as well just suck it up and listen to what she had to say.

"Sweetheart, I know you have your opinions on the whole dealing-with-this-thing, but, honey, the way you're 'dealing' with this isn't working. Please, try one meeting, and if you don't like the meeting, we can try something different."

I wanted to scream at her hell, I wanted to scream in general, but I managed to keep my mouth shut and just nod my head while biting my lip so hard I could taste the blood in my mouth. Soon after my mom said her piece, she quickly went downstairs and called out over her shoulder that dinner would be at its normal time.

I rolled my eyes and decided to rest for a while. My thoughts started to drift to what the kids at school would be saying about me behind my back. I could just imagine it now…

"Can you believe her?"

"I know, right? She thinks that just because she does drugs and that Damon Richards supposedly likes her, she can do whatever she wants and not get caught?"

"I heard she goes downtown and buys her drugs and then sells what she doesn't use!"

"That's not what I heard—what I heard was that she's doing crack and also screwing the whole football team. She's delusional if she thinks that Damon actually likes her."

"Someone told me that Damon is only using her to get into her pants, and once he closes the deal, he's going to dump her like last week's garbage!"

My eyes shot open, and I my failed attempt at sleep ended up making me feel worse than before I laid down. I must have slept longer than I planned to, because I could hear my mom yelling from the bottom of the stairs for me to come down and eat or she was going to drag me down by my hair. When would my mom learn that I wasn't scared of her threats; she was all talk but never really acted on them.

Dinner was uneventful and very awkward. Thankfully, though, neither my mom nor my brother mentioned the fact that I was being forced to go to some support group that I didn't want to go to in the first place.

The next day at school I avoided everyone like the plague. I didn't even bother to stop and talk to Kelsie between classes. I just wanted to get the stupid support group meeting done and over with. This had me rethinking the whole idea of me not going to the lame rehab facility. I was told over dinner that I had been signed up, and that it was not open for discussion. I knew that I was going to hate it, and then hopefully once my mom saw that I didn't need to go, she would drop the subject and let me get back to what was left of my social life.

"Hey, Bree, you OK?" Damon spoke. He was really becoming a regular figure at dinner time. Paul was glad to have another guy to hang out with after school, but I wasn't sure how I felt about him being here so much. "You've been avoiding me all day it seems like…"

I wanted to smile and tell Damon that I was perfectly fine, but instead I just ignored him and kept walking to my next class. I felt horrible as Damon tried calling out after me, but if my suspicions were true I might as well get a head start and ignore him like he was sure to ignore me.

After school I caught a bus to the stupid support group meeting. I was about halfway to the meeting when I decided to make a detour—and by detour I meant hang out at the mall for the afternoon before catching the bus back home.

This plan was pure genius, or at least it would've been if I hadn't run into my dad and Nick in the food court.

"What do you think you're doing young lady? Shouldn't you be at your support group?"

I was about to defend myself when I saw my dad holding hands with Uncle Nick.

Wait….whoa; I don't even know where to begin.

My dad followed my stunned look and quickly let go of Nick's hand; my dad's face was as red as the t-shirt he was wearing. He looked like a little kid who got caught getting a cookie out of the cookie jar.

"Bree, we wanted to tell you, but your moth—we wanted to wait for a more appropriate time to tell you."

I couldn't breathe. It all made sense now, the reason for all the fighting, the constant bickering. It was like a freight train hit me with so much knowledge at once. It felt like I forgot how to exhale.

I could hear my dad calling out after me to wait so he could explain, but I kept on running. I wasn't sure where I was headed, but I just knew that I needed to get out of there.

Finally, after my legs felt like they would fall out from under me, I braced myself against the building behind me gasping for air. After a few minutes—that felt like an eternity—I regained my breath and started trying to make sense of the major revelation I thought I just I saw.

It isn't that big of deal that my father is gay, but the fact that he kept it hidden all this time is what hurts the most.

"Hey, are you OK? Do you need me to call you a cab home? It's a little late for someone of your age to—"

I didn't give the guy a chance to talk any further and flashed him the mace I kept in the bottom of my purse. The guy, whose hair was almost a rust color, backed away slowly while holding up his hands in surrender.

"Easy kid, I'm only trying to help. Do you need a cell phone to call someone to come get you?"

I quickly pulled mine out, and my eyes about popped out of their sockets when I saw that it was nearly nine o'clock now. I could tell that I was somewhere downtown, and I lived on the opposite side of town. Even if I didn't wind up mugged, I would definitely be late for curfew at this point.

"Look, kid, I know you don't know me, and before you spray me with that can of mace, I just want to offer you a ride home—or at least drive you halfway home and help you catch a bus back to your side of town."

The man didn't seem like a serial killer, but then, do serial killers ever really look like killers? If all else failed I still had my can of mace. Thankfully the man with the strange hair kept his promise and helped me get a bus back home. During the ride home I checked to see how many times my mom tried to call me, but as my luck would have it my phone was completely dead.

Yup, Bree, you're dead as a doornail when you get home.

When I got home I expected to be yelled at and grounded for a month for missing curfew, but instead mom wasn't up waiting on me, instead, I could hear a muffled conversation coming from the kitchen area.

"You didn't actually expect her to go her whole life not knowing about Nick and me, did you, Vanessa? She's a smart girl, she would've found out eventually. Why you decided that we keep this from her and Paul I will never understand."

"Do you think I like lying to them, Chris? I mean, for the first half of their lives they had a mother and father, and then mommy and daddy get divorced. I just didn't think they could handle the real reason why our marriage didn't work."

"Oh, you mean the part where I was finally comfortable with who I was and who I loved? Vanessa, we both know that you were just trying to save face so none of your friends would find out that you married a gay man!"

I could hear dishes clanking against one another as they continued to argue. I could either make my presence known, or I could just sneak upstairs and make a clean getaway.

"You're lucky Mom and Dad have been at each other's throats for the past two hours, otherwise you would've been a dead duck." I nearly jumped out of my skin. I swear Paul needed to wear a bell around his neck sometimes he was so quiet. "So where did you run off to when you found out that Dad was gay?"

"Wait, you already know? I just found out earlier!"

"Think about it, Einstein! Mom and Dad have been arguing all afternoon, it was kinda easy to put two and two together—I could hear them yelling from up in my room with the door shut even. I may be fourteen, but I'm not a complete idiot like you think I am. If you ask me, the whole thing makes perfect sense now."

"How do you figure?" As soon as I asked, I knew the answer.

Uncle Nick and Dad always spent a lot of time together, and they went on a lot of camping and fishing trips; up until now, I just chalked it up to two good friends spending time together.

"Do you think Mom's the reason why Dad stopped coming around? I mean, I can totally see why, but he's our dad, Bree."

I could see that Paul was on the verge of crying, but he was forcing himself to bottle it up and shove it down inside himself. I reached over and grabbed him in a hard, comforting hug, and we stayed that way for a good few minutes before we finally calmed down and headed off to bed.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Mom and Dad you skipped out on the support group, but you gotta promise me something…"

"What?" I was afraid to even begin to think about what it was that my brother was going to blackmail out of me to make sure he kept quiet.

"Eat a damn doughnut; you look like a stupid twig," Paul said. He closed his door and I was left standing in the middle of the hallway, stunned.

~*~*~Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are~*~*~

I still didn't see why I was going to see this new personal trainer my mom saw an ad for in the newspaper. Personally, I was just fine—I was getting closer to my goal, and I just wished that my mom and dad would see that.

We pulled up, and I wasn't sure if we were even at the right address. This was an apartment building, not some stupid gym.

Who knows, maybe this idiot runs his business out of the building's gym center.

With a bit of prodding from my mom, I trailed in behind her to meet with the stupid person I would be stuck with for the next couple sessions.

There would be no way of skipping out on the sessions, because both my mom and dad made sure to schedule them on days so that if one couldn't take me personally, then the other one would. Paul joked that I was under house arrest, and even joked that I should at least get one phone call.

"So where's this guy you just had to take me to, because I sure don't see him anywhere," I said with a bit of bite to my tone. I almost apologized but then decided against it; I wanted to make it clear that I wasn't happy about doing this.

"Be patient, Bree, I'm sure he'll be here. We're a few minutes early. Why don't we just sit here and wait."

I would prefer to be at the mall, but seeing as how that was out of the question I flopped down on the bench next to my mother and took in the lobby of the very expensive-looking, apartment lobby. I mean, the place even had its own doorman.

Why's a guy who can afford a place like this working as a personal trainer?

"Hello, sorry I'm running late," Just then a boy, who looked a little younger, and a little pudgier, than my brother walked by—wait, the man standing there with the muscles, looked so familiar. The auburn-colored hair was a definite red flag to me, but Muscles, here, didn't seem to remember me.

Relax, Bree. Your over active imagination is starting to play tricks on your memory.

"So, which one of you is Briella?"

I groaned as I raised my hand. "I'd prefer it if you just called me Bree." That earned me a sharp smack on the shoulder from my mother. It's not that I disliked my full name, but I loved Bree a lot better than Briella, besides, she only my full name when I was in trouble.

"Well, my name is Edward, and I like to be on a first name basis with the clients I work with. You can either have your mother sit in with you if you like, or if you prefer it, she can wait outside or come back."

"What am I, five? I don't need my mom to stay with me." I scoffed, which earned me yet another sharp smack on the shoulder. I rolled my eyes as my mother apologized on my behalf, which was ironic seeing as how I was not the least bit sorry.

"I see that I am going to have my hands full with this one. Mrs. Michaels, the first session is always an hour and a half, then the following sessions are anywhere from an hour to two hours; it just depends on how things go during the session."

God, can he be any more annoying? If he seriously thinks I'm going to do anything he tells me to, he has another thing coming.

After my mom left to do some errands, I was left standing facing Edward in awkward silence.

"So, what would you like to do first? We can go over what all, you will be doing during our sessions, or I can go over the dietary nutrition portion of what Cullen Fitness offers."

Wait, dietary nutrition? Mom didn't say anything about this guy telling what I can and can't eat.

"Sorry to pop your little bubble, but I don't need anyone telling me. So, let's just get to the workout and call it a day." I huffed.

"Oh, you're going to be like those types of clients—the type that thinks they don't need other people telling them how to eat. Well, your mother has different plans for you. I spoke to her, and she told me what your doctor said. Though, there's no medical treatment for anorexia, I—"

"Wait! I don't have anorexia! The doctors exaggerate! I'm perfectly fine, I happen to like the way my body looks! I only came here to pacify my mother. So stop with the psychiatrist bullshit and let's just get this stupid session over with!" I couldn't help but let it all pour out of me. I hated that this guy acted like he knew me and how I was feeling! He had no idea what my life was like!

"You may think you don't have an eating disorder, but tell me, Bree, how often do you eat?"

"What kind of question is that? I eat! I'm not some stupid idiot that starves themselves for days at a time." OK, so that wasn't completely true, but he didn't have to know that.

"I'll take that as a not very often. Bree, I'm here to help you, I'm not here to force you to do anything you're not willing to do. I can only suggest certain eating habits and ways to keep healthy. It's up to you to put the words to practice."

"What? Are you Yoda now or something? I'm only here so that my mom can get off my back!" I was getting really tired of him already, and I still had over an hour left.

"OK, so I see talking isn't getting anywhere with you today, so how about I take you on a field trip? I'll take you grocery shopping and show you that you can still be thin and eat food. I also know from your mother and father that you didn't always have an unhealthy relationship with food; so there's a chance that we can make a few helpful changes."

I huffed and rolled my eyes. I wanted to argue with him some more, but I knew that it would get me nowhere. Edward took this as a sign of compliance. Before we headed out to his car, Edward had me call my mom to make sure that it was ok that he drive me to the grocery store. Once I told her why he wanted to take me shopping—something we both agreed was strange—we walked to his car parked outside the apartment building.

"For a guy who can afford to live in a place where they got someone standing at the door, you'd think they'd have a parking garage or something," I said with a hateful smirk. I swear, this guy made being mean a sport.

"Oh, they do. I had a feeling after I first talked to your parents, I knew that I would probably have a hard time getting through to you, so I had Harvey, the doorman, save a spot out front for me."

I wanted to punch that stupid crooked smile off his stupid face right now; I had to clench my hands into fists to resist the urge.

Shopping wasn't as bad as I expected. Basically all Edward did was tell me what was good, what was bad, what had too many sugars, what had too many carbs, and that protein was my friend, apparently.

If he thinks that I will immediately bow down to him and thank him for showing me the error of my ways, this guy obviously doesn't know me very well.

I thought that I would just have the one shopping experiment, but I was wrong. My next session, after we did a couple repetitions of sit-ups, Edward took me shopping me yet again. The jerk even had me pick out what food I thought sounded good. I showed him, I picked out all the junk food I could find, thinking that I would piss him off and make him give up this stupid experiment.

But I was wrong, because the following session we went shopping again, and he had me do the exact same thing—pick out food I thought sounded healthy.

So I finally gave in and picked out some fruits, a small bag of carrots, and other assorted healthier foods. This apparently was what Edward wanted from me, and we went to the checkout and paid for all of our food.

"What are we going to do with all this? I mean, you don't expect me to actually eat this, do you?" He knew that I preferred not to eat anything bigger than a bagel—if I decided to even ate at all that day.

"We're going to your house. I already got permission from your Mom, and I'm going to help you cook dinner for you and your family." The only thing I knew how to cook was freaking scrambled eggs, and even that I managed to burn a couple times. Did he really expect me to cook food that I would then have to serve my family? "Oh, and your mother invited over your friends…Kelsie and Damon…yeah, she told me to make sure to buy enough ingredients for eight people."

Why do I feel like this whole experiment is just an excuse to force me to face Kelsie and Damon?

I hadn't spoken more than a couple sentences to Kelsie since I got out of the hospital after breaking my arm, and I'd been avoiding Damon so much they could make avoidance an Olympic sport!

Edward told me what I was making, but I didn't even know what quinoa was!

"Trust me, the quinoa black bean burgers are amazing, and they actually look like real burgers."

"I'll take your word for it, I suppose…" There wasn't much else I could do at that point.

Once it was time to eat dinner, I made it my goal for the evening to pretend like Damon wasn't staring a hole through me.

Conversation flowed easily for the first time in a while, and Mom actually seemed OK with Uncle Nick and Dad openly showing affection to one another now; she even complimented Nick on his new shirt.

Kelsie filled me in on the latest gossip, while Paul was talking Edward's ear off asking what he did to get so "ripped". Edward laughed and gave a crooked smile while explaining that he just ate healthy and walked more often than riding the bus or driving his car. When he told Paul about how he was even in the marathon recently, I could see Paul's eyes widen in amazement.

"Wow, Bree, that's your second burger. You really have an appetite tonight!" my mother complimented me. I hadn't even realized that I had polished off two burgers tonight!

Dammit, Bree, you're usually better about this kind of stuff!

I quickly excused myself and ran up to my room, ignoring the people calling out after me, telling me to come back and sit down.

I stepped on the scale and did the usual routine and was relieved that eating so much food hadn't made me gain any weight. I would have to run around the block, at least five times, after dinner to make sure that the extra food didn't affect me in the morning.

"You never mentioned that you have a scale and measuring tape hidden in your bedroom."

I jumped at the sudden sound of Edward's annoying voice. I turned around and saw him leaning against the doorframe with concern all over his face. "I didn't say anything, because it's none of your business! Get out of my room!" I screamed. I was starting to feel short of breath and lightheaded.

Edward could sense something was wrong and sat me down on the edge of my bed, "Take a few slow calming breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth." it took a few minutes, but then finally the anxiety attack passed and I started to feel better.

"How often do these anxiety attacks happen, Bree?" Edward asked matter-of-factly.

Well, the cat was out of the bag now, and the words starting pouring out of my mouth. I told him that the attacks didn't start until after the first time I was admitted to the hospital—homecoming night.

"Well, I know I'm not supposed to give any advice that isn't directly related to how you should or shouldn't work out, but in my opinion, your mind seems to be trying to tell you what you're doing to yourself isn't healthy. I also know that you know, you loved tonight's dinner, Bree. It's OK to admit it."

I took a couple calming breaths. Something inside of me knew that I enjoyed tonight's dinner; who knew that kale chips could be so good! But something was keeping me from verbally admitting that I loved and missed food.

"I want to like food…but why does everyone else eat whatever they want and not gain any weight?! It's not fair!"

"Metabolism works differently for each person. Some have higher metabolism and eat whatever they want, while others have slower metabolism and need to be careful of what they eat. But, Bree, this feels to me like it goes deeper than just being skinnier than other people."

What I want to scream is that I felt fine the way I looked before, but no one ever paid attention to me then. Now, now I'm skinnier and everyone looks at me, and everyone pays attention to me; even Damon didn't give me a second look before I started my diet plan.

"Do you want to hear my theory?" Edward didn't give me a chance to answer, "There's a group of girls at school who make it their mission to tear other girls down and make them feel bad about themselves. Am I getting warm?"

"I'm not really sure how I should feel right now. I've kept this secret for so long. I guess I should be relieved that I don't have to hide any longer."

"I am just that smart. No, I was once in high school as well, and one thing that I learned was that the ones who make it their life goal to tear other people down are secretly insecure about themselves—well, that or they are just plain mean," Edward said with a chuckle.

I couldn't help but join in. "You had me until the last part. Thanks, Edward, but it's going to take a lot more than just some nice words to help me, isn't it." I said.

Edward nodded, and then added that he was here for me and that he would help me learn to deal with my disorder.

Edward had this weird way of making me feel like everything was going to be OK; I kind of liked the feeling.

~*~*~Before you can love someone else, first, you have to love yourself~*~*~

It was finally the start of my senior year. I'd been going to my sessions with Edward for a year and a half, and I couldn't even begin to describe the transformation I had made!

Edward was with me every step of the way—Kelsie and Damon, too—and as I started putting back on weight, they all made sure that I knew that I was gorgeous and that I wasn't a "heifer".

Yes, I had started talking to Damon again, and we'd been officially dating for about six months. It took a while for me to make it up to him for avoiding him, but once he heard my reasoning, he made it perfectly clear that he had always liked me. He just never knew how to tell me, and when Makenzie bribed him to ask me out as a joke, he used that as an opportunity to get to know me.

It still made me smile when I thought about Makenzie's face when she heard the news about Damon and I making our relationship official. I swear the girl's head would've exploded if that were possible.

Kelsie and I were stronger than ever, and she stopped calling me a "whore" when she really meant that I looked beautiful.

It was Saturday, and the three of us were hanging out at home with a handful of college acceptance letters we were too afraid to open. Damon and I talked about what we would do if we did or didn't get accepted into the same college.

"OK, I say on three we open our letters and see if we got accepted or not!" Kelsie chirped as she held her letter from LSU. She had family down in Louisiana, and it also happened to be her mom's alma mater.

When we finally got the nerve to count to three, we all ripped open all of our letters.

I had applied to a bunch of different schools, but the one I wanted most was one of the State University of New York schools-to be more precise, the Fashion Institute of Technology! Some of the most famous fashion designers had gone to that school, like Calvin Klein to name one.

"Oh gimme that, you're too chicken, ya know!" Kelsie said as she swiped the letter from me. She quickly ripped open the envelope, and her expression was blank. I couldn't tell whether I should celebrate or get out the fat free ice cream!

"Spit it out, Kelsie, the anticipation is killing me!" I about shrieked. Damon wrapped a calming hand around my waist and squeezed gently to calm me.

"It says…that you…got in! You got accepted into that fashion school! Congrats, Bree!" I couldn't believe it. I hoped that I would get into the fashion school, but I suppose that a part of me was preparing to get a rejection letter!

"Are you serious?! That is amazing! Did you get into LSU? I know that that's what you're really wanting."

Kelsie skimmed through the different letters and found the one from LSU, and after she looked it over, he had the biggest grin on her face!

"Looks like I'm going to be a LSU Tiger! What about you, Day? Did you get accepted into SUNY like your girlfriend here?" Kelsie asked playfully.

Damon skimmed through his letter, and I was chewing my bottom lip so hard, I'm surprised I had any of it left.

"Well, it says that they looked at my application, and they liked what they saw… Looks like you're stuck with me, babe, I got in!" Damon said with a huge smile.

I squealed and hugged him tightly. I had been prepared to have the talk about what we would do about a long distance relationship if..." or "talk about what we would do about the distance if he didn't get accepted into the same college as me, but I was relieved that we wouldn't have to have that conversation!

"What's with all the yelling?" my mom asked as she walked through the living room. The three of us held up our acceptance letters, and I told her the good news about me being accepted into the fashion institute I wanted to go to.

"You know who would also be really excited about this? Edward, would definitely be proud of us." Kelsie said with a wide grin. She was right, Edward would be excited to know that we got into the schools we wanted, and I couldn't wait to tell him.

Today would be one of my last sessions with him for the foreseeable future, it was nearing the end of the school year, and after school ended Kelsie, Damon, and I would all hang out for the first half of the summer, but then we would go our separate ways.

Damon offered to drive me to my workout session with Edward, and Kelsie decided to tag along.

When we got there, all three of us bombarded Edward with all of the good news. Edward congratulated all of us. I asked how Bella—his wife—and the baby were doing. He told me that Bella was doing great, and the baby was right on track in his or her development.

"I take it that once school's out that, I will no longer be seeing you around here."

"Aww, don't get all mushy on me, Edward. I'll still be home for the holidays, so I can give you and your family a hard time when I'm in town," I said. I couldn't help but smile.

It was amazing how far I'd come from two years ago. Two years ago, I was anorexic and to the point of serious medical intervention" or something along those lines? Now I was back at a healthy weight, and I was slowly regaining a healthy relationship with food. I still had hard days where I have to remind myself to have more than just a granola bar for the day, but I had good days as well; there were days I ate so much that I swore I gained ten pounds just from eating dinner.

I had Edward to thank for that as well. Edward was there at my lowest point, he showed me that I didn't have to starve myself to get to a more healthier version of myself.

I knew that I would still have struggles with my eating disorder, but I also now knew that I was capable of eating properly without withholding food from myself.

My dad and Nick are happy as ever. It's great that mine and Paul's relationship with our father seems to be on the mend. In one of the monthly letters I get from him, I found out that he and Nick were currently trying to adopt.

Everything seemed to be going well for me now. I just needed to remember one thing:

As long as I loved myself, that was all that mattered to me.

"To me, beauty is about being comfortable in your own skin. It's about knowing and accepting who you are."
-Ellen DeGeneres