a/n: How's it going, guys? This is another Massington one-shot! This is AU, so the characters are very OOC. Shout out to ailes du neige, who edit this one-shot and made it amazing! Thanks Clara! Read and Review! Lauren does not own the Clique; the ah-mazing Lisi Harrison does.
It is hard to be an alpha, the alpha that everybody replies on to be perfect. To maintain being alpha, you must be beautiful. And to be beautiful, you must be skinny.
And is Massie Block, alpha of Briarwood Octavian Country Day, beautiful? Every time she stares at her full length mirror, tilting and turning from side to side to see her reflection, only ending up with the reflection of an ugly, fat girl. Her waist and hips are enlarging themselves, tripling perhaps, her arms and legs looking like stuffed meatloaf with cellulite hanging off the edges of her thighs, as if she had been eating breakup food. The bulging stomach threatens to expose itself through tucked in skirts and cinched at the waist dresses, her pasty skin pale and chestnut brown hair stringy.
Her appearance is nothing like her friends —with their perfect tans, curvaceous in the right places, hair like silk, shining beneath the sunlight.
You will never be beautiful. You are fat and ugly, Massie reminds herself, because sometimes she loses the control that had been set up so perfectly, the plan falling to crumbles and shreds. She locks her bathroom door, the only place she can do her little bad habit, and flushes. Mint toothpaste replaces the smell minutes later.
The family doctor decides that she is now anorexic, but Massie knows that her parents have paid him to say something like this; some of her friends have learned of the details, the inner family. They have assumed that something has been going on —something wrongwrongwrong and she assumes that it's because she's been gaining weight, and the situation is getting more and more dire. It's not enough, and Massie has to go farther in.
They will lie to her, they always have, haven't they? So, she can only trust the mirrors and the threatening weighing scale.
It becomes an obsession, really. Every time she consumes something, the flush of the toilet is heard seconds later, because nobody knows her secret remedy until it'll be too late, and she frantically runs up the staircase, feet pounding, heartbeat erratic as she slips, picking herself only to fall on top of the scale.
Standing at a weight of one hundred and twenty pounds, Massie only thinks twentytoomany; five inches and three feet off the ground, her friends are all much less, fifteen pounds much less, and she must be better than them, at least if not better, equals.
A single sob, a heartbreaking sound, is released before the toilet flushes once more; it clogs daily, but it's fixed by a repair man who can only help but worry. All the fat, all the calories that have been hiding in the corners of her stomach must come out, because they're just too many, and she has to be perfect, doesn't she? Eating that Luna Bar was the most ridiculous idea that she had ever devised —eating led to despised carbs, carbs to fat.
Looking up from the sink, into the translucent mirror that would never lie, dull reflections mirror; amber eyes, irregular to say the nicest comment, were too far apart, her nose gargantuan sized with a large red pimple near the top, her lips thin and not sparkling enough. Unlike her friends, with their sparkling eyes, ski-slope noses, and full cupid bow lips.
She fell to the floor in sobs; she could never be good enough, could she?
You are hideous; never been alpha material, not at all. No wonder Derrick doesn't like you, Massie's mind tells her as she cleans herself up. She slips on her outfit, a black and white striped maxi dress with black pumps, intently gazing at the mirror, her one and true friend. Striped patterns create wider hips, cinched waists expanding beyond proper needs. The dress tag was also a friend, it showed her the truth. Size six; even Dylan was a size two.
Massie quickly walks outside, down the long driveway, trying to wipe and conceal away the tears. Upon examination, Massie felt as though she could cry for years; even Claire was skinnier than herself, though she digested candy as though it was oxygen; no wonder why Cam chose Claire over Massie.
"Are you okay Massie? You didn't eat breakfast today," Claire commented, her wide baby blue eyes full of concern. Claire held out a bag full of gummy worms, but Massie declined. Sugar resulted into more fat, and no matter what, Massie would end up throwing the gummies up.
"Did I order coffee, Kuh-laire?" Massie asks, hands on her widened, ohsowide hips, climbing upward towards an equally flabby waist.
Claire sighs, "No."
"Then why are you all up in my mug?" Massie snaps, just when Issac parked in the BOCD parking lot. Massie was sick of Claire going up in her business, even if she was trying to help.
"Fine. I was only trying to help you and your 'problem,'" Claire retorts. Claire knew, Massie thought. "Have fun with starving yourself to death!" Claire grabs her bright blue backpack and climbed out of the car, slamming the door once she was out.
She sat alone during lunch, he notes —the typical group of girls sit elsewhere, various degrees of emotion splayed across their gossip faces. As usual, the navy plastic tray in front of her holds Glaceau, a single bottle of water. He looks down, at his tray, which holds two sandwiches, two plates of fries, and two ranch dressing filled salads. Derrick hopes he could still play soccer after this suicide attempt, the attempt he has been trying to do ever since she stopped eating. He places his tray in front of Massie.
"Eat."
Massie glares up at him before folding her arms. Massie was wearing a simple black and white striped long dress with black heels. Her shiny chestnut hair was covering most of her face and blocking part of her pretty amber eyes. He had to admit, she was beautiful.
"No."
Derrick sighs. This was going to be harder than he thought. "Why won't you eat? Tell me the truth." He was tired of seeing her like this, starving herself. She was so skinny that he was afraid if he held her, she would shatter like a china plate.
Massie looked down so her hair blocked her face. "Because, I'm not pretty. And to be pretty you have to be skinny." She whispers, hoping that it was too soft for Derrick to hear her. But, he heard every word. Derrick grabbed Massie's shoulders and made her face him.
"Massie, you're not eating just because you think you aren't pretty?" Derrick asks quietly; it hurt him to see her in this, in this state of denial.
"I don't think I am not pretty. I am not pretty. Look at me, no pretty girl is fat like me. It's no wonder you don't like me," Massie only repeats, trembling hands clinging on to pointed bones, tears filling her haunted eyes.
"Massie, you have to eat. You don't have to be skinny to be beautiful. You are beautiful, no matter what. I don't want you to be skinny, I want you to be Massie. And I love you," he says, an earnest gaze. Then, he kisses her, perhaps shocking Massie, but she returned the action with the same force.
He broke away from the kiss first. He took one of the sandwiches off his tray and handed it to Massie. "Eat." She gave him a small smirk, before taking the sandwich.
Finally.
Like it? It may seem a bit confusing, but at the end, Massie started to eat again. Also, with Massie's appearance, in the first part is what Massie sees and the second part is what Derrick sees. Thanks for reading, :)