That day was nearly eight years ago now. Honestly, I didn't think of it much anymore. Over the years, Rhonda had faded into the back of my mind without much effort. Sure, there were still times she came to mind, but those instances grew fewer and farther between as the years passed.
Ever since that night, the night I gave "Curly" up entirely, it was really like becoming a new person. I slowly started to get my act together. Gradually and systematically destroying all of my old habits and adopting new ones. In the weeks prior to my move, I decided I wasn't going to be the psycho at my new private school. I wasn't going to be a dork, either.
The first thing I did once I was given a tour of the new school was to ask if there was an exercise room. There was, only it was better than that. I didn't think there would be weights. Barbells, dumbbells, pullup bars and dip stations- I didn't even know the names of these things when I first saw them. At first, I just wanted to adopt a healthier lifestyle. But I saw power again in all the cast iron laid out before me. Power that wasn't acquired through fear or some joker like Simmons. I had the tools at my disposal to sculpt my body.
And that's exactly what I did. The first year was the hardest. Initially, I was barely able to bench press a bar. I was constantly weak from lifting every day. I attacked the weights daily with resentment I had for Rhonda. With anger I had for Harold and Wartz for physically humiliating me. The problem was, I wasn't making much progress. That wasn't until a few of the preppier guys noticed my passion.
"Thaddeus?" It was a tall boy. He had dark, wavy hair and a lean build. We were only ten at this time, but he seemed a few years older than that.
"Thad. You can call me Thad." I wasn't really the "new kid" at this point anymore. Not that anyone ever gave me a hard time about it to begin with. Still, I wasn't exactly well known yet. No, that wouldn't come until later.
I was loading two measly plates onto the bar, preparing for my bench press when he approached me.
"I see you're interested in weightlifting. That's really cool. You know, me and the guys," he motioned over to a few other kids. "like to lift, too. We know quite a bit about it, if you ever need pointers. Or if you need spotters. We know a lot about nutrition, too, if you ever have any questions. You seem like a dedicated guy. Just thought I'd mention it."
I didn't know it at the time, but that day singlehandedly set everything into motion for me. Half of what I was doing wrong was eating improperly. I began to consume a protein-rich diet. And I was instructed to take rest days instead of going all-out every day. After implementing these changes, it was only a few weeks and my strength had nearly doubled. Sure, I was only benching maybe 100 pounds, but I was also only about 11 years old. I was starting to fill out nicely. The extra muscle was especially welcome since I'd begun a growth spurt. Where I was once 4'11", I was now 5'5".
But that was only half of what changed the day Robbie- that was the guy's name- introduced himself to me. It started out that we were acquaintances who met in the weight room. Before long, we were lifting partners. Maybe a week after that, we'd become genuine friends. And, by association, I'd become friends with his friends.
Now, Robbie wasn't the coolest guy in school, but he wasn't a nerd. People liked Robbie. They respected Robbie. He was a smart guy, too. I envied the ease with which he seemed he could move in and out of social cliques. He seemed like he could blend into whatever was around him. A chameleon. He knew when to laugh, when to be serious, and when to tell a joke.
In time, I copied this ability.
Robbie was also a sharp dresser, even from a young age. It wasn't until I was 13 that we began to shop together. He had an eye that would have made Rhonda envious. My old wardrobe was gradually phased out. Filled with things only Robbie approved of. Now, you might be thinking I was his lap dog. Or that he was grooming me to be his sidekick or something. But then you wouldn't know him. No, he was looking out for me. And just like I learned to copy his ability to blend and adapt socially, I learned his sense of style. Understated, but fashionable. Distressed jeans. Polo shirts. Ralph Lauren button-ups. Salmon pinks and baby blues. Yeah, by the time I was 13, I was starting to come into who I am today. Curly was mostly gone by that time.
Around a year later and, wouldn't you know it, I had my first date. My first actual date with a girl who liked me and WASN'T Rhonda. Even more strangely was that she asked ME out. The cherry on top, the coup de grace, so to speak, was that SHE seemed nervous. I still remember the conversation at Robbie's house from that night. It was when I first noticed a metamorphosis of some kind was occurring. Beyond the designer jeans and $200 haircuts.
"She seemed nervous, Robbie. Nervous to ask ME out. What a joke, huh?" I was fiddling with my watch. It was more of a fashion statement than a tool used to tell time. I used my phone exclusively if I ever needed to know the hour.
"Why wouldn't she be?" He was lying on his bed and tossing a basketball up and down. He'd made the junior varsity team. "You're a real looker, Thad. Y'know? I have to admit, not so much when we first met, but these past few years have really changed you."
"You think so?" I wasn't paying much attention to him at the time. Oddly, I wasn't that nervous about the impending date. My anxious jitters seemed to subside a few years prior to this. Probably as a result of acclimating to my meds.
"If your looks continue to get better, I just might have some competition." He giggled to himself. Right. What a joke. Robbie wasn't exactly Teenage Heartthrob America, but he was dashing when he wanted to be. Certainly more attractive than I was.
Than I was.
That was three years ago, though. We were still practically kids. I'm seventeen now. And, at the risk of sounding vain, I think I finally had Robbie bested in the looks department. And he'd only improved over the years himself. You could say neither of us was short of our share of female admirers. I wasn't as interested or as flirtatious as Robbie, though. He usually raked it in on charm alone. I didn't usually turn mine on unless we had a competition going or something.
I finally decided to drag myself out of bed. It was quarter past eight. I had an open hour the first class of the day. Perks of taking extra courses early on. I didn't need to be at school for another hour.
I studied my body in my now-full-body-length mirror. I wasn't a ripped steroid freak like I intended to become when I was 9. No, I was much smarter than that now. I was muscular, but lean. Trim, but not too cut. Tan, but not disgustingly orange. Everything was in moderation. Subtle. Understated. Just like Robbie had taught me. And understated is always in.
Especially among the opposite sex.
I wore my hair messily and at a medium length. I never had to do much with it. Girls seemed to like it however I messed it up. Which was typically with a subdued spikiness.
Today, I decided to study my face again. Something I hadn't really, truly done since the day Rhonda betrayed me. I didn't quite have that voracious hunger anymore. Those haggard, desperate eyes I remembered so clearly were gone. A fine shadow of stubble dotted my face where a smooth, round chin used to be. My face had grown more slender and more masculine all at once.
It made me wonder. When did I finally finish feasting on Curly? Or was I still sucking his bones dry eight years later?
"Regardless." I whispered to the face in the mirror. "I appreciate it. Curly." Saying the name aloud felt strange. Like he was an old friend from a lifetime ago. In a sense, I suppose he was. Nearly half my life had passed since then. And nobody had referred to me as such since.
I had plenty of time for both a shower and breakfast. That's another thing you should know about me now. I have an appetite. And I eat very well. You'd be shocked to realize how much work goes into maintaining a lean and muscled build. I grazed all day long.
Thinking about my meal plan also got me thinking about the rest of the day. Chest and triceps day with Robbie. That would last about an hour. AP Lit. A PSEO course... Remedial Math. Hey, I'm not good at every subject, okay?
And then my dad wants to head to the Y for some father-son basketball. It had become our tradition a number of years ago. Our bi-weekly outing.
He also mentioned he'd have some news for me. Maybe I'd finally get my own car.
