A/N: This chapter has harsher language than before and some troubling
situations dealing with sex and eating disorders. Please take note.
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I felt the salty sweat run down my peach-colored skin. My muscles bent and pleaded and begged to stop, but I didn't. The heavy, physical weights weren't the only weighing me down. I strained to lift another, a single motivation.
Perfection.
The morning light lingered with my sweat, creating a sort of rainbow of skin, salt, and sunlight.
If you stripped me naked, and cut my skin and bones, this is my core. No make up, no bra, no high heels. Just a little girl, clinging to the rocks. Don't fall, Kate! Don't fall.
I dropped the weight I was holding deadly, recognizing a faint feeling floating to my head. I let a perspired hand reach out to my drenched forehead. No, we can't stop now. I thought about a slender waist and shapely legs. I thought about tiny wrists and sunken cheekbones. I thought about unpopularity. I must go on.
After 15 more minutes, I finally let myself stop. Ache lingers over my limbs, but I shrugged it off.
Cold streams of water fell from the shower head and onto the glowing beads that covered me. I sighed and let a cool puddle of body scrub collect in my palm. I idly swirled the white goo, making intricate designs on my body. I sighed as a rose blossomed onto my leg, then disappeared into the drain. I felt myself wonder what it would be like to be that rose, plummeting downwards. I shook it off instantly and continued to cover my body with the wash.
After a half hour of beautification, I found myself with no where to go. I vaguely remembered Mom popping her head in my bed room at 6 in the morning, saying something about going for a jog. I glanced at the clock on the wall. 10:30 AM. That's not suspicious in the least. I let a sigh fall between my glossy pink lips and weighed what I could do.
As a Sanders, I mustn't go through a day without a public appearance. The Sanders aren't homey people. We're roam-ers, challenging ourselves with new social situations we know we can beat. Or at least, that's what we have become.
I didn't always fit into my family's lifestyle. I was a awkward, scrawny little girl who couldn't make proper pigtails. I didn't understand why my parents were away so often, or why my cousin Amy had to stay with me so often (though she doesn't anymore). I went to Lizzie's house and ate home-made cookies and danced to music that (at the time) we thought was cool. I remember having a big crush on Gordo and being best friends with Lizzie and learning how to bead bracelets from Miranda. I remember the sleepovers with horror movies we couldn't handle and the long bike rides in the rain.
But image is more important than all of that.. Right? Of course. Kate Sanders doesn't make bad decisions.
I sighed again. Maybe it was time to call Claire and forgive her for.. whatever. There was nothing else to do.
I picked up the phone and pressed in her number. I listened to the rings silently, looking around the room. What if she wasn't there? I needed a back-up plan.
"Hello?" Her voice crackled. I instantly recognized something was wrong, but ignored it.
"Hey," I said. "What are we doing today?" I heard her sniffle and I rolled my eyes. I wasn't giving her sympathy if she broke a nail.
"Um.. I don't know," Her voice was full of tears. "Can you just come over? Something's wrong." Well, duh, I thought.
"Okay," I said brightly. "See you in a few." I hung up on her sniffling goodbye. I grabbed my purse and checked my face in the hall mirror.
I almost smashed that mirror once.
My mother loved it to death. It had this beautiful gold frame which she liked to run her fingers down while she brushed her hair. She told me it was a magic mirror.
It was the next day she went away on a business trip with Daddy. Everyday I looked in the mirror, almost expecting to see her in it. But she wasn't. It was just me in my Tinker bell blush and tutu. I looked scared. It was the first time I thought I looked ugly, and it scared me. I look my tiara and threw it at it, leaving a little crack in the corner. The present baby-sitter found me, and took me away.
The crack is still there. I don't think my mom ever noticed it, but I still get chills up my spine when I see it.
I trotted to Claire's in my new high heels, envying the cars that drove by. I wished I had my driver's license.
I finally approached the iron gates and they swung open instantly. She answered the big door puffy eyed. She looked terrible. I refrained from laughing, feeling a little bit of sympathy.
"What's the matter?," I asked, almost sounding like I cared. I grabbed my hand and dragged me to the kitchen silently. I sat down at the huge silver counter. I knew she would crack eventually.
She pushed a piece of leftover pizza at me and sat down across from me with her own. She poked at it very un-lady-like, ripping off the crust and scattering it across her plate.
"If you won't tell me, I'll just go," I said angrily, losing my patience. She didn't say anything. "God, Claire, what the hell is your problem?" Silent tears ran down her face. I bit into the pizza, giving her the opportunity to tell me.
"I-I..," She hesitated, and then began again. "D-do you remember when I went out with.. With Colin a couple weeks ago?"
"Yeah..," I said slowly.
"Well.. We went to this p-party and-"
"Ethan's party," I said abruptly, remembering my lack of invite.
"Yeah," She said, shooting a sympathetic look at me. "Well, anyway, he...well...we kissed...a lot.."
"So?," I said impatiently.
"A-and we went to.. A room and..," She let out a breath. "Things got out of hand." I stared at her blankly. "I-I had a little too much to drink and the next morning... I was n-next to him."
"So," I said slowly, "You're not a virgin anymore." One would expect that of Claire. "Maybe Justin WAS right." Her eyes filled with tars again. I sighed. "What now? You have a STD or something?" Tears started to fall again. "Oh my fucking god, you DO?"
"No," She whispered. "I might be pregnant."
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I felt the salty sweat run down my peach-colored skin. My muscles bent and pleaded and begged to stop, but I didn't. The heavy, physical weights weren't the only weighing me down. I strained to lift another, a single motivation.
Perfection.
The morning light lingered with my sweat, creating a sort of rainbow of skin, salt, and sunlight.
If you stripped me naked, and cut my skin and bones, this is my core. No make up, no bra, no high heels. Just a little girl, clinging to the rocks. Don't fall, Kate! Don't fall.
I dropped the weight I was holding deadly, recognizing a faint feeling floating to my head. I let a perspired hand reach out to my drenched forehead. No, we can't stop now. I thought about a slender waist and shapely legs. I thought about tiny wrists and sunken cheekbones. I thought about unpopularity. I must go on.
After 15 more minutes, I finally let myself stop. Ache lingers over my limbs, but I shrugged it off.
Cold streams of water fell from the shower head and onto the glowing beads that covered me. I sighed and let a cool puddle of body scrub collect in my palm. I idly swirled the white goo, making intricate designs on my body. I sighed as a rose blossomed onto my leg, then disappeared into the drain. I felt myself wonder what it would be like to be that rose, plummeting downwards. I shook it off instantly and continued to cover my body with the wash.
After a half hour of beautification, I found myself with no where to go. I vaguely remembered Mom popping her head in my bed room at 6 in the morning, saying something about going for a jog. I glanced at the clock on the wall. 10:30 AM. That's not suspicious in the least. I let a sigh fall between my glossy pink lips and weighed what I could do.
As a Sanders, I mustn't go through a day without a public appearance. The Sanders aren't homey people. We're roam-ers, challenging ourselves with new social situations we know we can beat. Or at least, that's what we have become.
I didn't always fit into my family's lifestyle. I was a awkward, scrawny little girl who couldn't make proper pigtails. I didn't understand why my parents were away so often, or why my cousin Amy had to stay with me so often (though she doesn't anymore). I went to Lizzie's house and ate home-made cookies and danced to music that (at the time) we thought was cool. I remember having a big crush on Gordo and being best friends with Lizzie and learning how to bead bracelets from Miranda. I remember the sleepovers with horror movies we couldn't handle and the long bike rides in the rain.
But image is more important than all of that.. Right? Of course. Kate Sanders doesn't make bad decisions.
I sighed again. Maybe it was time to call Claire and forgive her for.. whatever. There was nothing else to do.
I picked up the phone and pressed in her number. I listened to the rings silently, looking around the room. What if she wasn't there? I needed a back-up plan.
"Hello?" Her voice crackled. I instantly recognized something was wrong, but ignored it.
"Hey," I said. "What are we doing today?" I heard her sniffle and I rolled my eyes. I wasn't giving her sympathy if she broke a nail.
"Um.. I don't know," Her voice was full of tears. "Can you just come over? Something's wrong." Well, duh, I thought.
"Okay," I said brightly. "See you in a few." I hung up on her sniffling goodbye. I grabbed my purse and checked my face in the hall mirror.
I almost smashed that mirror once.
My mother loved it to death. It had this beautiful gold frame which she liked to run her fingers down while she brushed her hair. She told me it was a magic mirror.
It was the next day she went away on a business trip with Daddy. Everyday I looked in the mirror, almost expecting to see her in it. But she wasn't. It was just me in my Tinker bell blush and tutu. I looked scared. It was the first time I thought I looked ugly, and it scared me. I look my tiara and threw it at it, leaving a little crack in the corner. The present baby-sitter found me, and took me away.
The crack is still there. I don't think my mom ever noticed it, but I still get chills up my spine when I see it.
I trotted to Claire's in my new high heels, envying the cars that drove by. I wished I had my driver's license.
I finally approached the iron gates and they swung open instantly. She answered the big door puffy eyed. She looked terrible. I refrained from laughing, feeling a little bit of sympathy.
"What's the matter?," I asked, almost sounding like I cared. I grabbed my hand and dragged me to the kitchen silently. I sat down at the huge silver counter. I knew she would crack eventually.
She pushed a piece of leftover pizza at me and sat down across from me with her own. She poked at it very un-lady-like, ripping off the crust and scattering it across her plate.
"If you won't tell me, I'll just go," I said angrily, losing my patience. She didn't say anything. "God, Claire, what the hell is your problem?" Silent tears ran down her face. I bit into the pizza, giving her the opportunity to tell me.
"I-I..," She hesitated, and then began again. "D-do you remember when I went out with.. With Colin a couple weeks ago?"
"Yeah..," I said slowly.
"Well.. We went to this p-party and-"
"Ethan's party," I said abruptly, remembering my lack of invite.
"Yeah," She said, shooting a sympathetic look at me. "Well, anyway, he...well...we kissed...a lot.."
"So?," I said impatiently.
"A-and we went to.. A room and..," She let out a breath. "Things got out of hand." I stared at her blankly. "I-I had a little too much to drink and the next morning... I was n-next to him."
"So," I said slowly, "You're not a virgin anymore." One would expect that of Claire. "Maybe Justin WAS right." Her eyes filled with tars again. I sighed. "What now? You have a STD or something?" Tears started to fall again. "Oh my fucking god, you DO?"
"No," She whispered. "I might be pregnant."