“But I didn’t mean to do any of that,” I insisted. “I just wanted to…get out of the office…” I heard my weak words, which so obviously didn’t pass as an excuse. “But I didn’t say anything to anyone else, I’m completely sure of that.”
I was glad to say this honestly. I thought carefully and decided that I truly hadn’t said anything to that effect.
The expression on Anna’s face, however, said otherwise.
“I think things will become clearer after our next journey,”
she said lightly.
I nodded, unable to do much else, and looked down the f loor.
Now it was time to squeeze into the Carfagni Mary Jane shoes I’d admired for so long.
C H A P T E R T E N
I found myself in the girls’ bathroom at school, looking into a mirror at Michelle’s ref lection. Her eyes were watery and red. Her face was the same color, with a tinge of purple to it. I watched her adjust herself, wiping away the mascara that had run beneath her eyes.
After looking around to be sure she was the only one in the bathroom, Michelle turned to the side with one hand on her stomach and stood up as straight as possible. I was surprised to see how narrow she was, but even more surprised by her thoughts, which said otherwise. She looked critically at her lower stomach, which came out a fraction of an inch more than the rest of her toned tummy.
“Gawd,” she muttered to herself. I watched incredulously as she found pretend f law after pretend f law on her body.
My torso’s too thick, she thought, trying to suck in the portion beneath her ribs. She looked concave.
And she had a thought that stunned me.
I know that if I lose any more weight I’ll look too thin, but maybe I want to look too thin.
I yearned to be able to communicate with her, to tell her how stupid that was, and that “too thin” wasn’t a good thing, 1 3 9
that it was more of an insult than anything else, but I was powerless.
The bell rang, and she hurried to put a breath mint in her mouth. Taking a second to give herself a final, critical once-over in the mirror, she left the bathroom. She felt embarrassed to be walking the halls. She felt like everyone was going to see her for what she was, whatever that might be. There was a word Michelle was avoiding in the back of her mind. One she couldn’t seem to bring herself to say or admit.
She walked into the women’s locker room and headed toward the locker I’d made her choose next to mine.
“There you are, God, since when are you late? You’re probably just late because I need to talk to you. Judging by my luck.” I watched myself complain, chewing on the Bubblicious gum from my purse.
Michelle sighed as she asked, “Why, what’s up?”
I took off my earrings as I launched into my story about how completely unfair it was that Mr. Ezhno was even allowed to teach. I complained that he obviously hated kids anyway, so why was he even teaching?
I thought self-consciously of the optimism he’d felt on his first day and felt sad.
But the Bridget in the locker room carried on with her bitching.
“I
was
seriously only thirty seconds late. And it wasn’t even my fault! It was his be loved Meredith’s fault.” I could feel that Michelle knew, just as I did, that I’d been later than just thirty seconds. Michelle formed a response in her head. One where she asked how it could have possibly been Meredith’s fault.
Ultimately, she changed her mind and went with the easy answer that wouldn’t start an argument.
I got the feeling that this happened often.
“Yeah, that sucks.” Michelle started to pull on her shorts, 1 4 0
P A I G E H A R B I S O N
looking at her thighs. To me they looked so thin they were on the verge of cowboy legs, but she seemed to see sausages. She pulled them up to her hips, and felt self-conscious of her hips, which she was convinced were spilling over the waistband.
They aren’t, I tried desperately to tell her from my impotent place inside her mind. That’s just what it looks like when something’s not the right size! Feet don’t fit into shoes that are too small, for example—I thought of the Mary Janes—and that’s just because they’re not the right size. But the only thing Michelle heard from me was my thoughtless observation.
“You know, you should really buy new shorts this year.
Those are getting a little tight on your hips.”
I cringed and wished I could take it back. It came off as insulting, which I really hadn’t meant it to be.
Michelle looked at me and watched with envy as I pulled on my waistband, which was huge on me.
“Mine, on the other hand…” I said, like it was a huge burden. I thought wearily of how many times I’d acted like a good thing was tiresome. Like in mandatory chorus class in middle school, where I’d said I couldn’t sing from my stomach because my abs were too tight. And when I said that I couldn’t wear some pairs of sunglasses because my eyelashes pressed against the lenses from being so long.
I was surprised that Michelle didn’t seem angry with me.
In fact, her only thought was that she was jealous. She didn’t want to have to think about her waistband anymore.
“Okay, so what happened when you came in late?” she asked, and then went back to trying to stretch out the pants so that she could still get away with wearing size small. When she wore a small, it meant she was a small, dammit. If she moved up to a medium, it would mean she wasn’t small anymore.
It would mean she’d gotten bigger.
1 4 1
The other me, oblivious to the thoughts in Michelle’s head, continued bitching.
“Basically, he sent me to the office with this totally stupid note talking about how I’m some kind of menace. Oh! And he said something about me distracting other students who were trying to pay attention. It was so stupid. So then I had to wait for, like, ever, with three of Winchester Prep’s Least Wanted.
Are you even listening, Michelle? Or are you just going to rip your pants trying to make them fit?” Michelle had hardly been getting stressed out about my story, but thought she’d heard everything I’d said.
“Oh, sorry, go on. I was listening.”
Michelle watched, feeling ashamed, as I sighed and looked condescendingly at her.
“So, finally I go in, right, and then I’m about to be super nice and just say something about how I promise not to be late anymore, and how homework’s been hard lately, and then Mr. Ezhno actually called the office…” I carried on.
“Seriously?” Michelle gave out the generic response, hoping it would satisfy me.
Apparently it did.
“Seriously. So I knew I was going to have to think fast, and really all I wanted to do was to get out of there, right?
So I start talking about how Meredith’s always got this ‘male guest’ over.”
Michelle stared fixedly at her waistband in an effort to not look surprised by what I was saying. She thought quickly, trying to remember if I’d ever said anything about a male guest before.
But I carried on.
“I just complained about how she and Mr. Ezhno were always meeting and stuff, and how he was like in love with 1 4 2
P A I G E H A R B I S O N
her, and how everything he does is because of that. And how they’re totally doing it.”
“Wait, what?” Michelle asked. She’d been paying attention, but was worried that this situation was something she was supposed to already know all about.
The whistle blew, and I rolled my eyes.
Michelle spent the rest of the class trying to ask me what I’d meant back there in the locker room, without revealing that she may not have been listening very well.
As soon as gym class ended and Michelle no longer had to hear me complain about Meredith, she dashed off to find Jillian. When she finally found her, she pulled her out the side doors of the school, saying it was an emergency and they needed to talk.<
br />
Jillian’s eyebrows wrinkled with concern as she told Michelle to spit it out; her heart couldn’t take the suspense.
“Jill, do you ever remember Bridget talking about something going on between Mr. Ezhno and her stepmom?”
Jillian’s eyes widened, “No! What are you talking about?”
Jillian tugged on Michelle’s arm to sit down at one of the picnic tables dedicated to the graduating class of 1989.
Michelle looked around to be sure no one was listening.
“Well, I’m not really sure what I’m talking about. We were in gym class, and she was complaining about Mr. Ezhno—
that’s his name, right, your Tech Ed teacher?”
“Yeah, go on,” Jillian responded, looking eager.
“Okay, so she’s talking about how he sent her out of the classroom today, and about how she was sent to see the headmaster and everything. And I’m not really sure how she got from one point to the other, but somehow she started talking about how she told Ransic about the affair Meredith’s been having with Mr. Ezhno.”
1 4 3
“Omigod,” Jillian said, her fingertips over her mouth.
“Right? So then, I didn’t really want to ask her what she was talking about, so I just acted like what she said didn’t surprise me, or whatever. She said stuff about how he’s in love with her stepmom, and like that’s why he acts how he does.”
Jillian was nodding her head as she followed the story. Michelle kept going, surprised that Jillian didn’t know anything either.
“So then, I’m listening to it all, trying to think of an explanation for what she’s saying or trying to think of how I must be misunderstanding her, when she says this—are you ready?”
Jillian looked like she was about to explode.
“She said that Meredith and Mr. Ezhno are ‘totally doing it,’” Michelle quoted. I watched Jillian’s face.
“So then that’s it? Well, then, no buts about it, I guess, she’s totally confirmed it. That is so weird. ”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Between what I had told Ransic myself, what I had also told Michelle and then what I had confirmed to Jillian the next day, I’d gotten someone fired and destroyed my own reputation.
It really was all my fault.
“But we can’t say anything,” Michelle said quickly.
“No, definitely not. But maybe I should ask her if what she said to you was true,” Jillian said, thoughtfully.
“Oh, I don’t know…can you ask her without it looking like I wasn’t listening? I really don’t need her mad at me right now.” She rolled her eyes.
“Definitely, don’t even worry about it. We’re all friends, I’ll just say you told me what she said and then I’ll ask her if it’s true.”
Michelle hesitated before agreeing that it was probably the best way. Then, just as I expected might happen next, 1 4 4
P A I G E H A R B I S O N
the ground went away and I found myself in my own din-ing room.
Jillian was eating a banana and reading the nutritional facts on the side of the cereal box, and Michelle was watching me eat a bowl of the cereal. I could feel her longing to have some, but resisting. I caught Michelle’s gaze and looked at her.
“Michelle, eat something.” I said it not like a concerned friend, but like a dictator.
Michelle noticed that, too.
“I’m not hungry, it’s fine,” she responded, speaking loudly over her stomach, which had chosen that inconvenient time to rumble. Michelle figured I wouldn’t hear it, that I’d be busy focusing on what I would say next.
As
usual.
I hated that it was true.
“Michelle.”
“Seriously,
Bridget.”
“What, do you not like what I have to eat or something?”
“I’m just not hungry, okay?”
As I looked at my ringing phone, thoughts of a conversation she’d had with Brett were f loating through her mind. She was mad at me. Upset by what I’d done to Brett. Brett, who was secretly her boyfriend. Secret because she knew I’d mercilessly make fun of her if I knew. She knew I wouldn’t simply let her be happy. I would only give her crap for it.
I tried to wrap my mind around that concept.
“Fine. As long as you’re not just overreacting to Jillian’s little health freak-out over there. It’s not like she even knows what she’s talking about.”
Michelle was trying to come up with a good excuse for why she wasn’t eating, and trying not to shout at me for always making fun of people, when Meredith came in the room. I was surprised by the admiration Michelle felt looking at her.
1 4 5
She gazed longingly at Meredith’s well-put-together outfit, which hung on her slender frame. I could feel Michelle yearn to look as beautiful as my stepmother.
“Oh, good morning, girls!”
I noticed, as Michelle did, that though Meredith had just put on lipstick, there was not even a tiny smudge on her teeth.
Another small twinge of admiration.
“I’m having a party tonight.”
“Are
you?”
“Yes. I thought your f light wasn’t until four. Are you leaving now? ”
“Oh, well, I’m meeting up with somebody beforehand and I’ll have about an hour and a half before the shuttle picks me up after that. I just want to be ready to go in case the meeting runs long.”
“Meeting with who?”
Michelle looked at me, suddenly worried what the answer would be.
“Who?” I asked again.
“John Ezhno.” Michelle looked at Jillian, who had paused halfway through chewing a bite of her banana.
“Really.” Man, I sounded nasty.
“Yes, does that surprise you?”
Michelle and Jillian both looked at the tennis match-style argument that was ensuing. I felt the small shock that Michelle was feeling. Shock that Meredith was f launting her romance so brashly.
“Um, yes, does that surprise you? ”
“Bridget, stop it.”
“You stop it.”
“Bridget, I mean it! You know, I wouldn’t have to keep seeing him if you or your father would just—”
Michelle had the uncomfortable feeling she’d felt so many 1 4 6
P A I G E H A R B I S O N
times at my house. She hated being an innocent bystander stuck in the room with an argument, and, with the way I often acted toward people, it wasn’t unusual to find oneself in that situation.
Michelle looked resolutely at her lap, ignoring the scene around her. It felt like she shouldn’t be there. She looked at Jillian, who was watching Meredith leave the room.
Michelle and Jillian both looked at me, and I was surprised to see that my face had turned red.
“Wha…?” I said around my mouthful of cereal.
They both tried to act like nothing had happened all the way up until Jillian’s phone rang and she had to leave. Then she winked at Michelle.
Jillian gathered up her things, and I heard myself close the door on her. Michelle was sitting by herself on the soft leather sofa set in my living room.
She was thinking of how to talk to me.
She was trying to decide whether to admit something to me, confront me about something or tell me a secret of hers, but I couldn’t tell what any of them were. Her thoughts were f leeting, going by way too fast.
When I slumped down onto the couch and turned on the TV, the feat of trying to have a real conversation with me seemed even harder to Michelle. I felt guilty for being so unapproachable.
“Bridget? Can we talk for a second?”
“Sure.”
Michelle’s heart beat a little faster as adrenaline rose in her chest. “Like, without the TV on?” She watched me sigh as if it was a huge burden to listen to anything she had to say.
“It’s kind of…embarrassing to talk about. I just think…
that you kind
of…make me feel bad about myself sometimes.”
Michelle spoke quickly, hoping that I wouldn’t just instantly 1 4 7
act like a bitch. Maybe I’d at least take a moment to be compassionate. We were supposed to be friends, after all. Michelle’s hope evaporated when she heard me scoff.
“I
what?”
“It’s just…I’m sensitive about my weight and—”
“Oh,
shut
up, Michelle.”
I felt the adrenaline in Michelle escalate again. How dare Bridget respond with that?
Michelle looked at me. She was thinking of Brett, the conversation about the gym shorts, Outdoor Ed, the many casually offensive comments I’d cast off without thinking.
“No, Bridget, I won’t shut up! You say things all the time that make me feel really bad about myself, and it’s just not okay!”
Michelle wondered for a moment if she should just spit out the truth. But would she be saying it just for the shock factor, or because she actually thought I might change my behavior?
“Like what!” I spewed.
“Oh, my God, Bridget, you really don’t know?” Michelle shouted with disbelief. How could any person be so unaware of what she’d said so many times?
“No,
I
really don’t know. Are you seriously telling me that you feel fat?”
“Yes!” She burst out the answer, trying to hold in the truth.
“Oh,
puh- leeze. You’re deluded. You’re crazy! And I’m not going to listen to crazy talk.” I watched myself look Michelle up and down, my lip curled. “I didn’t say you’re fat, Michelle.
I wouldn’t say anything like that—”
There was a difference between I didn’t say you were fat and I don’t think you’re fat— it was clear now.
“—but if you feel fat, eat a salad or something, I don’t 1 4 8
P A I G E H A R B I S O N
know. It’s all in your head. Just don’t blame your insecurities on me!”
Tears started to well in Michelle’s eyes, but she blinked them away. Of all people to break down in front of, Bridget was certainly not one of them, Michelle thought. She thought about my words. What if it was all in her head? What if I really hadn’t said anything too bad, and it was just her imagination?
Here Lies Bridget Page 13