Текст книги "Measuring Up"

Автор книги: Nyrae Dawn

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Chapter Three

165.8 I CHECKED. TEGAN WAS WRONG.

It only takes two tries to make it into Let’s Get Physical. I guess it helps that Tegan made our appointments for 8:00 AM. Who gets up that early during the

summer? At least it’s early enough I can go home and take a nap before I meet up with Em today.

I hadn’t been lying when I told my parents she’s taking some college classes. She’s hoping to graduate a semester early, with me. The sooner we can get out of

Hillcrest High, the better.

On my second trip to the glass doors leading to Hell, I see Tegan waiting there for me. His arms are crossed, making the sleeve of his t-shirt ride up, the lining of a tattoo peeking out from under it. He’s not as muscular as I thought yesterday. Definitely toned and firm, but not overbearing. He’s not like Billy and his goons. You know, those guys who lift so much they grunt and their faces turn red. The grunting does give them big muscles, but I’m not sure it’s worth it. Looking at his physique, I’m pretty sure Tegan isn’t a grunter.

Speaking of—why the heck am I looking at his figure? My eyes snap up. Sure enough, he’s looking at me, cocky little grin in place like he’s God’s gift to the

female eye and caught me praising the Lord. Before he can comment on it—and I know he will because that’s such a good-looking guy thing to do—I hold up my

hand. “It’s early, I’m in sweat pants, heading into the lion’s den. Don’t start with me right now.” I stroll past him like I’m not really freaking out inside. I hear a small chuckle before he catches up with me.

“Lion’s den?”

Does he really have to ask? It’s pretty self-explanatory, if you ask me. “Yep.”

Tegan leads me through another set of glass doors and upstairs to a room filled with all the treadmills, ellipticals, exercise bikes, and all that.

“We’re going to start with Cardio.”

Oh, joy! Just what I want to hear. I love running in front of people.

“It’s not so bad. It’s actually my favorite part. Well, not doing it on a tread, but running, outside. There’s nothing like it.”

I’m still trying to figure out if I spoke out loud or if he saw the look of horror I’m probably wearing on my face. For the first time I wonder how all this is going to work, if he’s going to stand around and watch while I jog and everything jiggles.

“Do you like it? Jogging, I mean? I used to do Cross Country in high school.”

Cross country and weights. Holy fitness buff. Is there anything to this guy other than his workouts and apparent love of smoothies? And then I remember his

brother and mom. The care he showed them and the way he looked at me when I tried to help. The tightness in his face when I asked about them. Just like the rest of us, Gym Boy has his secrets.

I shake my head, still nervous to get up there and run in front of him.

“What do you do? Anything you like?”

Is this how things usually go? I’m curious what this has to do with our workout plan. “Roller blade. I used to ride a lot. Not as much anymore.”

Tegan smiles like I let him in on some deep secret. “Cool. Never done it myself. Maybe I’ll have to try it sometime.” He pats the treadmill. “Climb up.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I climb on. This is what I’m here for. I need to get over it and do it.

“Okay, we’re going to start out slow today. I want to see what you can do. Twenty minutes. A couple of them walking to warm you up, then we’ll go into a jog.

Deal?”

We’ll? I nod my head. He pushes a few buttons on the treadmill. When the belt starts moving I do too. Tegan jumps on the one next to mine. Oh, nice. Is he trying to show me up or something? But to my surprise, he keeps it at a steady walk like I’m doing. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to know what he’s doing, that he probably fears if he doesn’t stay up here with me, I’ll bolt. There’s a part of me that wants to run because hello? This is embarrassing. On the other hand, I appreciate it because somehow, it helps not to do it alone.

Before he thinks I’m ogling him again, I face forward. We’re both quiet until Tegan asks, “You ready to speed up?”

“I’ve been counting down the steps!” I tease.

He chuckles. “You’re funny. Go up to 3.8 and see how you handle that.” It’s not too bad, which is nice so I fall into a jog. Tegan’s right there with me, doing the same thing. The urge to talk to him bubbles up in my throat, but I don’t risk it for a couple reasons. The most important one being I’ve been at this for a few minutes now and I’m slightly out of breath. The last thing I want is to start gasping at the boy.

So, I keep my eyes on the timer instead. I guess like a watched pot never boils, a watched clock never ticks.

“Hey, Tegan. Why are you up here?” A pretty, long-legged brunette walks up next to his treadmill. Who does that? Just stands there talking to someone while

they’re sweating and running? Okay, so Tegan isn’t sweating like I am, but still.

“Just working out with Annabel.”

Legs looks back and forth between Tegan and I, but I don’t pay her much attention for fear I’ll fall and eat treadmill if I do.

“Oh…so we’re still on for tomorrow, right?”

It would really be cool if I had my iPod right now to help me block this out. I shouldn’t want to—I don’t know why I do—but I sort of want to hear what Tegan

has planned with this girl. I’m imagining all kinds of sordid things when he says, “Yep. 9:30 AM, just like every Sunday.”

So she’s a client.

A 9:30 client.

Nice. He might go from me to her. Hopefully we don’t share any of the same days.

She flips her hair over her shoulder. “Looking forward to it. I was thinking…maybe after you get off we could, like hang out or something?”

Oh, God. I really don’t want to hear Tegan and Legs make plans to go out.

“Um, thanks, but I can’t. I have to take my bro—I have an appointment.”

“Oh.” She looks at the ground and I actually feel kind of bad for her, but it doesn’t last long. I’m thinking about Tegan, wondering why he changed what he was

going to say.

“I’ll see you later.” Legs walks away.

There are times my mouth just goes and I’m unable to stop it. This is one of those times. “Pick up chicks here often?” Ugh. What is wrong with me? It’s not like I care.

The treadmill starts to slow, indicating our twenty minutes is up.

Tegan jumps off. “I’m pretty sure I just told her no.”

“How old is your brother? It’s him you’ll be with tomorrow, right?” Why won’t my mouth stop moving?

Tegan groans, mumbling something that sounds like, “I knew it.” Then to me, “We’re not here to talk about what I do or don’t do, or about my family. We’re here

because you wanted to make a change. If this is really what you want, I want it for you, but you’re going to have to decide right now.”

Now I feel like a bitch again. I’m judging him. Again. How many times have people done that to me? Not only that, but I’m being pushy about his family. It’s not

like I want people to ask me why my mom can hardly stand the sight of me, so I shouldn’t be getting into his business. I lean against the rail of the treadmill. “You’re right. I suck. I get nosey and throw huge walls of sarcasm up when I’m uncomfortable.” Suddenly, I’m beyond uncomfortable. My face flames.

He kind of tugs on his hair. “Don’t be. Uncomfortable, I mean. We all have some kind of demon in our lives…” His voice trails off before he picks up my water

bottle from the floor. “Huge walls of sarcasm don’t rank high on the list.”

I’m not sure where it comes from. Maybe the sound of his voice, but I can’t help but wonder what kind of demons Tegan’s hiding.

***

I wake up from my nap knowing I’ll be sore tomorrow. The weights we lifted were light. According to Tegan: Less weight, more repetition is best. I definitely felt

the burn and dread the ache a full night of sleep will allow to set in.

Since I crashed as soon as I got home, the first thing I do is take a shower so I can head out to meet Em. Should I tell her about the gym? I know her. She’s not like me. She’ll give me crap for going, assuming I’m doing it for all the Billy’s at school, which I guess I am. But it’s not like I need their approval, I’m doing this to prove a point. I’m doing it for me…I think.

But there’s even more to my reason for not wanting to tell her. For not telling anyone. I mean, beside the fact that I don’t want people to know if I fall on my face trying. For some reason, I want to hold onto this. Something I have that’s mine. Not Mom’s to micro-manage, Dad’s to defend, Em’s to get all emo about. It’s something only myself—or Tegan, I guess—can control. If no one else knows, I don’t have to worry about damage control or avoid confrontations from anyone in my

life.

Shower complete, I dress in a pair of black jeans, despite the heat. My legs are flabby so I always wear jeans or capris, and black is slimming, right? That’s what Mom always says. After putting on my light-blue, button up, short sleeve shirt, I add a little mascara to my eyes. They’re my favorite thing about myself and one of the only things I get compliments on. They’re a strange color. Almost icy in their blueness. I run a brush through my hair and call it good.

A few minutes later I’m heading to meet Em in our spot. She doesn’t like me going to her house, which I don’t get. I’d love a mom like hers. Not that I don’t have a good one, but Mrs. M is…loving? Em thinks it’s because she knows how miserable Em’s life is so she’s trying to make up for it by being overly attentive. I’m a little unsure of how that’s a bad thing.

The hard part is she doesn’t like coming to my house either because Em is…well, I guess she’s just like her mom, but she doesn’t realize it. Mrs. M wants to make things better for Em, while Em’s overly protective of me. The only difference is where Mrs. M is all hugs and smiles, Em is all sarcasm and, well, kind of rude

comments. There have been way too many times she’s wanted to let that out on Mom, but since I won’t let her, it’s easier if we avoid my place as much as possible.

Since neither of us are real social people, we always meet up at the park when it’s nice, or if we need to stay indoors, there’s this hole-in-the-wall coffee house that doesn’t have name brand attached so the kids from Hillcrest don’t go. The park is huge, with a skateboarding area, baseball, and all that, and this little circular area with a little pond, ducks, and a couple gazebos. Amazingly, it’s never crowded. Once in a while on the weekends, we catch a party or something and have to bail, but usually it’s only littered with a few people here and there. Probably other outcasts like us.

I get there early and head back to our favorite gazebo, close to the pond where we usually feed bread to the ducks.

“Hey.” Em plops down beside me, wearing her signature black, another reason Mom scoffs at her. It’s different than the kind of black I wear. For Em it’s head to

toe. She’s really not Goth or anything, but it’s not often you see the girl wearing any different color. Instead of just wanting to slim down, though, I think she hopes it will somehow make her disappear.

“Hey you,” I say, nudging her when I notice she’s keeping her head tilted down. It drives me crazy when she does that. I sort of get it with other people, but

there’s no reason for her to try and hide her birthmark from me. It’s strange how she can be so strong yet so vulnerable at the same time. Like I said, if someone looks at me wrong, Em’s quick to give it to them, but she struggles to make eye contact for herself. “Did you bring the bread?”

“Yep.” She pulls half a loaf out of her bag before sliding a lock of her brown hair behind her ear. It’s funny how quick she warms up when it’s just me. She

wouldn’t do that with anyone else because it gives a prime look at the oversized, brown birthmark on half of her neck and the side of her face. It only takes me a second to block it out.

Sounds crazy, but it’s true.

“How were the classes, Miss. Overachiever?” It’s the most ridiculous thing I can say.

“Yeah, because I’m the overachiever out of the two of us. You can do anything, Bell, and we all know it.”

I flash to the gym. For some freak of a reason, that makes me think about Tegan. About how he ran with me because I needed it.

“You’re smiling. Why are you smiling?”

I grab some bread from Em and toss it at the ducks. “I’m not smiling.” Was I smiling? Why would I smile thinking about the torture that is the gym and Tegan?

“Um, yeah you were.”

Suddenly I feel really guilty for not telling her about the gym.

I blame it on my whole fear of failure thing. How typical is it for someone to try to shed a few pounds and fail? But the fact is, if anyone would get it, it would be her. Still, I’d have to hear about how lame it is, how I’m fine the way I am and if she ever saw Tegan, it would be over. She doesn’t trust anyone, and even though I don’t trust him either, my huge wall of sarcasm has nothing on hers. “I don’t know why I’m smiling, Em.” Which I don’t, so I’m not lying.

Lucky for me, Em gives up, something she usually doesn’t do easily. We hang out for a while, making sure to feed the baby ducks more often than the adults,

then she pulls her laptop out of her bag and we each buy some more music for our iPods. I’m a little more careful than her because I have a big fat bill I have to pay to Tegan and if I spend too much I’ll either be screwed or have to ask my parents for more. It’s not a big deal, because they’ll give it to me, but I’m not really the blow cash kind of girl so they might wonder what I’m spending it on.

We’re out here a few hours when we decide to brave my house. If we get home before Mom, I can usually get Em out without risking a Mom vs. Emily smack

down. We’re packing up her stuff when I hear a familiar laugh in the distance.

“It’s hot as hell and you’re still wearing all black and a sweatshirt? Don’t tell me you’re going to be one of those kids who show up to school with a machine gun, Monroe.” Billy’s walking with a few other guys from our school. The other three don’t say much, but they never stop him either.

“You’re such a jerk,” Em sneers.

Billy laughs, hitting Patrick in the arm which makes Patrick laugh, too. I guess he needs permission. “Emo chicks are funny.” Billy stumbles a bit. Ah, that’s what this is about. They’re drunk. I’ve heard of them coming down this way and drinking under the bridge sometimes, but I figured it happened after dark.

“And you’re a dumbass.”

Billy ignores her. “What about you, cupcake? Is that your plan too? Or wait, I bet you’d take a bullet for me, wouldn’t you? Love makes people do crazy things.”

I actually feel my face turn red. It’s a mixture of embarrassment and anger. I’m not sure which emotion is the strongest. Whichever it is, it’s making me mute.

Nothing I say will matter: I don’t love you. I don’t even like you. Well, of course I don’t, but all of that’s just going to make me look even more pathetic. The fat girl in denial.

“Screw off, jerk. The only person who loves you is you. Stop trying to win Annabel over. It’s getting pathetic.”

I want to hug and smack Em at the same time. It’s amazing that she sticks up for me, but on the other hand, stop trying to win Annabel over? She just set me up to take more crap from these guys.

Billy falls to the ground laughing. This time, Patrick doesn’t need a nudge to join in. Soon, all of them are laughing at my expense. Em grabs my arm and pulls me away.

“Don’t go away mad! Just go away!” Billy yells during laughs. “Poor Cupcake and Birthmark. You’ll never amount to anything, but don’t let it get to you. At

least you have each other!” His voice almost echoes as we walk farther away. I still hear it, over and over.

“They suck,” she says when we’re almost to our cars.

“Yeah.” And so do I. I’m mad at myself for letting them get to me and mad at myself for not standing up to them.

“All boys suck. Don’t ever trust them. Girls like us? They’re always going to end up hurting us.”

Her words shock me a little. Em’s always a little of a downer, but I’ve never heard her talk about guys like that, like someone else has hurt her I don’t know about.

Right now, I don’t have time to think about it. All I can think of is I know she’s right. And it more than sucks.

Chapter Four

DIDN’T WEIGH TODAY. GUESS I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO DO IT DAILY. NO PROMISES.

The thought of meeting Tegan today is nauseating. It’s stupid and I hate myself for it, but I can’t stop running over the things Billy said in my head. Being that girl, the one who lets jerks like him make her feel like this, bites. I know I shouldn’t care. Hell, I don’t care, not about him, but I care about me and I don’t want to set myself up to get hurt again. Not from Tegan specifically, but the whole gym thing. I feel like I’m setting myself up to fail.

I drop my head against the steering wheel, even angrier now that I feel like I am those things just because he said it. Knowing you shouldn’t think a certain way and making it true are two different things. People who’ve never experienced it don’t get it. “Don’t listen to them,” “There’s nothing wrong with you,” “Just forget about it” are just words. Sure, they may make the speaker feel better, but it’s hard for the person hearing them to actually let it seep into their brains and hearts.

Ugh. Now I’m feeling sorry for myself and that frustrates me to no end. So instead of crying in my leather seats, I get out of the car and head inside. Like yesterday, Tegan is waiting for me, but missing is the causal smile I’ve seen in him. This is a painted on, total Ken doll smile. There’s a slight dusting of stubble on his jaw. And his eyes, they’re not as lively as the other two times I’ve seen him. Like he’s riding the high he gets when he’s giving me a hard time. Right now they look like they did when he was helping his brother out of the car. No, they look almost pained. Angry.

Strangely, I miss the other smile. Which makes no sense except that right now, I could really use some positive energy.

“Tegan, you up for an extra shift this week? Jim told me to ask you.” It’s a different girl behind the desk today. He turns to her.

“Do you have to ask?”

She laughs. “I’ll let him know.”

“Mornin’. You ready?” When he turns to me, Tegan tries to sound light. Too bad it doesn’t ring true. What does he have to hide? Me, it makes sense that I have

demons, but with him it doesn’t.

“Not particularly. How are you?” My question-filter never rests around him. It would benefit me to remember I don’t care. Not about him, Billy, or anyone else.

I’m not sure why I expect him to. He doesn’t answer. Instead, Tegan signals with his head (he’s always doing that) for me to follow him and I do (I’m always

doing that). “Are you sore?”

Actually, I am sore, but the emotional pain from yesterday overpowers the physical. “Yeah.”

“That’s a good thing, ya know? We don’t want to overdo it, but those are like your war wounds. It means you’re working your muscles, training them.” I study

him for a minute, surprised at the little things I’m starting to catch. It’s obvious he’s upset, that for one reason or another he’s having a bad day. But he doesn’t talk about it. Ever. Well maybe not ever, but at least not that I’ve seen. Instead just focuses on my problem, which yeah, it’s his job. Somehow I know it’s more than that.

“You worked hard and you should be proud.” His words pull me from my thoughts and switches them to another.

Poor Annabel. That’s a cow name, you know. Your parents must have known you’d be fat. I’ve heard people who are fat as teenagers will be cows forever. Stop

it! Why the hell am I letting Billy Mason get to me? “Not that it will help,” I mumble and even as I do, I want to snatch the words back. Not because I don’t want Tegan to hear them, but because it makes me mad at myself. Why do I let my resolve slip so easily? I believed in myself when I came up with this plan and I already doubt it, just because of dumbass Billy?

“Hey.” Tegan stops me with his hand and I immediately notice how warm he is. “No doubting. The biggest thing you can do for yourself is have faith. I…you

have to believe that, okay? The human body can do some amazing things.”

He almost said “I” have to believe. His words fill a part of me I wouldn’t have thought him capable of filling and not for the reason I would think. But the way his voice almost cracks, the depth of…well, belief in them, makes me want to believe too. Somehow, I can tell he needs it as much as I do.

“Um, okay. Yeah, I believe. Sorry. Bad day. I had to deal with this jer—never mind. Just feeling sorry for myself.”

“Yeah, shitty day for me, too.” Tegan stands there like he’s thinking. A little smirk teases his lips and I wonder if he realizes it before I start to wonder why I noticed it. I should not be noticing things like this about Gym Boy. “Okay, I have a plan, but you have to A) not mind if we deviate from your regularly scheduled workout for a bit and B) you have to work really hard to earn it.”

“What is it?” Like I’m going to agree to something without knowing what it is. Yeah right.

“I’m not telling. Let’s just say we’re working on that trust thing you mentioned you need to have for your trainer. I will say, it’ll help and I think you’ll enjoy it. I’ll enjoy it too. That’s all you’re getting out of me, though.” He crosses his arms, but this time, the tension’s gone.

Is it possible for a day at the gym to screw with your head? I’m really starting to think so because before I can talk myself out of it, I find myself saying, “Fine, whatever. But this better be good.”

“Deal. Let’s get going then. We have a lot to cover today. I have some time between you and my next appointment, if you don’t mind us running late.”

That automatically makes a sheen of sweat slap itself across my forehead. Great. We haven’t even worked out yet and I’m already sweating. How attractive is

that? Plus, adding the words running and late together don’t sound good to me at all, but I nod anyway.

Luckily it doesn’t start out as bad as I thought when I find out the first item on our list is to work out a meal plan. He doesn’t tell me what to eat. We just talk about what I usually do eat, he gives me a book on suggestions, a diary to write my meals in, and the amount of calories I need to stay under.

“Oh, and water. Be sure you drink a lot of water.”

I nod, a little sad I’ll have to say goodbye to Ben and Jerry. “What about you? You drink smoothies.”

“Not you too.” He groans. “Can’t a guy have a sweet tooth? At least its fruit I’m reaching for and not something else.”

I know he didn’t mean it, but his words sting. I would be the one reaching for something else. He can have a smoothie a day because he’s not trying to lose

weight. He moves on, not seeming to realize how his statement affected me.

We begin our aerobic on the treadmills and to my surprise, Tegan jogs with me again. We up the speed a little and I try to ignore the easy rise and fall of his chest while I’m panting for breath. From there we head into weights and resistance training and I’m wondering when this whole idea of his is starting. So far we’re basically doing the same thing as yesterday. My legs burn like they’re on fire while we do some machine that is supposed to give me quads of steel. They feel more like jelly at the moment.

“Come on, Annabel. Three more. You can do this.”

I push my legs up again. Yeah, I can do this. I find that, all of a sudden, I really want to. Again, I lift, pushing past the burn, focusing on the way I haven’t thought about yesterday between the time we started the run until just a second ago.

“You got this. One more and then you get your surprise.”

His wording makes me falter slightly, but I catch myself. Ignoring the way “surprise” sounds more like a friendly gesture than trainer/trainee one, I lift against the resistance one last time. “Oh my God.” I go limp against the machine. “Is it always supposed to be tougher the second day?” I’m panting. My eyes are closed and I probably look like I had a near drowning experience in my own sweat, but right now I can’t find it in myself to care.

“It’s just because your body is adjusting and you’re sore from yesterday, but you know what? You hardly flinched the whole day. You were in the zone. Not half

of the resistance you had just twenty-four hours ago.”

My heart finds the energy to do a happy dance in my chest. I let my head roll to the side and open my eyes. Without meaning to, I smile at him.

“You killed it today. Now you definitely deserve to kick some ass.”

Huh? “I’m a lover, not a fighter. Plus, isn’t it against some trainer, client code to challenge said client to a fight? Not sayin’ I couldn’t take you, but ya know…”

Tegan shakes his head and chuckles. “Come on, Annabel. Trust me.” He holds out his hand and I let him pull me off the quads of steel AKA I-may-never-be-

able-to-move-my-legs-again. As soon as I’m up, we both let go. “And just so ya know, you’d be good competition, but you couldn’t take me. Not yet.” He winks and

walks away, leaving me no choice but to follow him. Again.

***

“Um, I’m not really much of a boxer.” We’re in a small room by ourselves. I swear, Let’s Get Physical is like a haunted mansion on Scooby Doo. It has all sorts

of secret rooms I didn’t know about. There are a couple long punching bags (no clue if they have a special name) and then the little ones where you have become like Road Runner to keep up with them once they start flying.

“Are you sure you’re not my girlfriend or something? I think you just like to argue with me. Where’s the trust?”

“You have a girlfriend?” I blurt out and then I want to box myself for saying it. You have a girlfriend? Of course he does. Maybe Supermodel up front or someone equally pretty. Plus, it’s not like I care.

“No, bad analogy, I guess, but you get the point. What about you?”

Why is Gym Boy asking me this? Hello. I figure sarcasm is my best defense. “Nope. Don’t swing that way.”

He chuckles again at me. He seems to do that a lot. “You know what I mean. But”—he leans closer to me and I catch a chill. Stupid AC—“I think you knew that.

If you didn’t want to answer me, all you had to do is say so.” He stalls a minute and then says, “Your eyes are the craziest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. It’s like looking in a pool or something.”

I feel his breath he’s so close to me. Minty and fresh. What am I doing? Or a better question is, why is he so close?

“Annabel,” he whispers and I swear his voice vibrates through me. Does my name always sound like that? Almost seductive? He’s standing farther away from

me now, trying to get me in the mood to hit a bag, not seduce me. What was I thinking? “I want you to find that anger from this morning. I know you worked some of it off, but pull it back up and then kick its ass for good.”

A beep sounds from his pocket. “Hold up a sec,” he says to me before pulling out his phone and saying, “Hey.”

Whoever is on the other line is talking and then Tegan replies, “Three o’clock. Again? You’re going to kill yourself.” More silence from Tegan. “I know I’m the

same way, but that’s different. It just sucks. We shouldn’t have to—” He looks at me like he forgot I was in the room. The Tegan from earlier is in front of me again.

The one who seems to hide behind a wall like I do. “I’ll come home. I’ll pick him up. No, it doesn’t matter, I’ll change my plans, but I gotta go.”

I’m sure he doesn’t give the person on the other end time to reply before he hangs up. He stands there, looking at me, breathing heavy, but obviously trying to

hide it. “Ready?”

I shake my head. I know this has something to do with his brother. My heart softens a little for him. “I can help… if you need something. I mean, I know we don’t know each other, but—”

Tegan cuts me off. “I don’t need any handouts.”

“What? I’m not trying to give you a handout. I’m trying to be nice.”

“Well you don’t have to. We’re here for you, remember? Not me. You don’t have to worry about my crap.”

He gives me a tight, reassuring smile and takes a step back, motioning to the punching bag, and somehow, my body automatically starts to do what he said.

Mom’s hurtful remarks, every name Billy has called me and everything he’s put me through. It all starts bubbling over, and despite that I’ve never hit anything in my life, I swing. When my gloved hand makes contact with the punching bag, it feels good. Some of that bubbling anger transfers through me and into the bag. And

somehow…somehow I’m hitting for Tegan too.

“There you go, but you’re not nearly as tough as I thought if that’s your best hit. You’re pissed, remember? This is your chance to get even.”

I swing again. Tegan is behind the bag, holding it, but I didn’t even see him move. My fist makes contact a third time. “That’s it. Now I’m feelin’ it. Let it out, Annabel Lee.”

Again and again my fists make contact, harder and harder on the punching bag.

“Tell ‘em how you feel. Whoever it is: parents, friends, some other jerk, boyfriend…”

“Don’t have a boyfriend, but the others I do have.” Not that I’m mad at Em, because she’s all I have, but no matter how much I love my parents, I am mad at

them. Over and over I punch. My arms are aching way more than my legs were earlier. My chest hurts I’m breathing so hard and God, I probably look like the world’s biggest idiot, but I don’t care.

I’m showing Billy how he makes me feel. Telling Mom how much she hurts me.

“Damn, that was a good one,” Tegan says from behind the bag. “Keep it up. Get rid of it because it doesn’t belong here. This is your time. No one else’s. If they aren’t motivating you, they don’t belong here.”

I hit harder, faster.

It’s amazing how freeing this is. Like somehow I’m really showing Billy how horrible he’s been to me. Showing him I don’t care, even though I do.

“Whew! That one about knocked me out. Chicks who kick ass are hot.”

Hot? What the hell? I know I’m not ugly. I’m not, but no one has ever called me hot before. It’s too late to stop my swing. It’s flying so fast and hard, I lose my target. My glove slips off the punching bag, but the momentum doesn’t slow. My fist lands right in Tegan’s face and he stumbles backward.