How It Feels to Fly(36)
“When my finished costume arrives, it’s so tight I can’t inhale fully,” I read. “The boning in the bodice digs into my skin. I wince as the costume designer hooks me in, and she frowns at me. ‘Something to aspire to,’ she says.”
I close the notebook and look at Dr. Lancaster.
“Did you tell Bianca how you were feeling?” she asks.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think she’d understand. Her body is perfect. She’s like Sylvie Guillem.”
Dr. Lancaster raises her eyebrows, so I clarify.
“Super skinny, but not unhealthy. Long legs. Arch-y feet.”
“So you think she wouldn’t be able to empathize with you?”
“I guess she’d feel sorry for me.”
“You don’t want her to feel sorry for you?”
“I don’t want things to change between us.”
They already have. You know that. Bianca knows that.
“If she’s your friend, she’ll—”
“I don’t want to tell her, okay? It’s embarrassing. It’s bad enough that I look the way I look, but . . . the fact that I’m having panic attacks about it?”
“Has Bianca ever seen you have a panic attack?”
I scowl. “Yeah. The, um—the same one everyone else saw.”
“Ah. And how did she respond?”
“She was . . . pretty great, actually.” I mutter that last part, irritated at having been called out. “But it’s still my choice who I tell about what’s going on inside my head.”
Dr. Lancaster nods. “It is. But when you go home, you’re going to want to surround yourself with a strong support system. I’m trying to get you to think about who those people are, in your daily life. What about your teacher?”
“Miss Elise? What about her?”
“She seems quite invested in you.”
“What makes you say that?”
“She recommended that you come here, right?”
I nod.
“And based on the story you just read me, she was willing to have a new costume custom-made for you, despite the expense.”
“None of the others fit me. She didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice, Sam.”
Realization hits me like a brick. Miss Elise could have given someone else my solo. She didn’t have to feature me—especially when featuring me was costing the studio money.
“Oh,” I say.
“What about your mom? Did you tell her that the costume fitting made you upset?”
“No. I told her everything went well.”
Dr. Lancaster opens her mouth, but I speak before she can.
“Mom and I don’t talk about that sort of thing.”
“Why not?”
I don’t have an answer. Or maybe I have too many answers, and I can’t pick one.
I leave Dr. Lancaster’s office thinking about my support system. Have I been hurting myself by hiding from Bianca how much I’m hurting? Has Miss Elise been on my side all along? Would my mom understand what I’ve been feeling if I broke down and told her?
Maybe I should.
But I don’t call home that night.
I tell myself it’s because I’m busy. First, Jenna and I have to do a ballet barre. Then we have an hour for dinner, and then we all decide to watch a movie in the Dogwood Room before bed. Even Dr. Lancaster joins us. I’m technically free to go make a phone call, but the night feels too normal—like we’re just hanging out—to spoil it.
I’m sitting on the couch between Katie and Andrew. And maybe I’m a few millimeters closer to him than to her, or maybe I’m imagining it. The space between our arms and our legs feels magnetic. But Andrew doesn’t look my way. Not once. In fact, he and Zoe keep shouting about what’s going to happen next—which redshirt is going to die, whatever that means.
I don’t know how I feel about Andrew joking around with Zoe. She’s acting like a human being, and if it’s his influence that’s doing it, that’s a good thing. But I want him to be joking around with me. Flirting, like on the ropes course. Staring at me like I’m the only person that matters, like last night.
You like him.
No, I don’t.
Yes, you do.
I lose track of the plot. Which alien ships belong to the good guys and which ones we’re trying to blow up. I fidget in my seat, moving a fraction of an inch closer to Andrew. Our hips bump, and he finally looks in my direction.
“Hey. You like the movie?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool. This is one of my favorites.” He grins and turns back to the TV just as a starship explodes in a shimmer of light.
This is a bad idea, and you know it. The last thing you need is to fall for someone who’s so far out of your league. He’ll hurt you, just like Marcus hurt you— That’s what shuts up my inner voice.
Whatever’s going on between us, I honestly don’t think Andrew will hurt me.
thirteen
WE START FRIDAY MORNING OFF WITH A GROUP yoga class, which should make me feel great. I like yoga. I’m good at it. And burning calories before lunch is a total win. But as I move from downward-facing dog into plank pose, lower myself to the floor, and arch my back into upward-facing dog, I can’t quiet my mind.