Paint Me Beautiful

in her dad's basement until she turns thirty.
    “ So, I'm already thinking about Halloween,” Leanne begins, welcoming me back into the fold without a hitch. Jenn doesn't seem so sure and keeps looking over her shoulder at Emmett. She has a bruise on her left cheek and a steely glint in her eyes that tells me that maybe there's something there that she needs help with. I want to pull her aside and ask, but I'm not in any place to be helping someone else. I have too much to worry about right now. Maybe after I get accepted at Lianna's, I can invite her over for an old fashioned girls night, ice cream and all? I shiver involuntarily, partially from the cold night air and partially from the thought of ever eating a treat like that again. I mean, even a half cup of vanilla ice cream has a hundred and forty-five calories. How could I ever justify that? I make myself focus on what Leanne is saying. “For the life of me, I can't think about what I want to be, and I really need to start figuring it out. My costume has to be off the charts this year because Jenn has got some tickets to an awesome party. She's going to be a cat – ”
    “ Was going to be a cat,” Jenn interrupts. “But the dress I wanted to use doesn't come in anything bigger than a size four.” She gives me a look that makes my lip curl involuntarily. I tell myself that she's just jealous because her body is shaped like a pear, thin where it counts and fat where it doesn't. I don't feel sorry for her though. I've seen what she eats when we go out. She stuffs her face with fast food and pizza and doughnuts. At the movies alone, I once saw her consume over two thousand freaking calories in a single hour. I want to say, There's a reason you can't fit into a size four. If you want to be pretty, you have to work for it. As soon as we enter the doors to the center, I break away from Leanne with a guilty smile.
    “ I don't want to leave Emmett out,” I say when what I really want to do is yell at them. Do you have idea how hard I'm working? You have no right to look at me like that, like my fat is somehow more desirable than yours. I'm doing the best I can, and you're not doing shit. Leanne frowns, but Jenn pulls her forward, eager to get away from me for whatever reason. I guess just the sight of her disgusts me now. I think about the time that she and I went camping together in ninth grade, when we snuck our first cigarettes and nearly choked to death. We both vowed never to touch the things again, and we never, ever told Leanne about it. A part of me misses Jennifer and a part of me is glad she's pulling away. That's one less person to judge me, to get into my way.
    Emmett grabs my hand when I fall into step next to him and squeezes it tight like he's trying to warm me up.
    “ Want to move in with me?” he asks and I trip over my own shoes, stumbling just enough that he has to wrap his arms around my waist to catch me. I pull away quickly, certain that he's just felt the extra rolls that are hanging there and jiggling around when I move. I still can't believe I let him see me naked. If that happens again, and it might, then we're doing it with the light off.
    “ We just met,” is my response, but already I'm thinking about how amazing it would be to get out of my parents' house, to have the freedom to do what I wanted when I wanted without question, but then … “I don't have a job,” I tell him. “And I don't have time for one right now.” Emmett steps towards me, and I step back.
    “ Look, I just moved into a new place. There's an extra room across from mine. You don't have to think of this as a romantic step; I just need a roomie. And as far as rent goes, your sister's given me a pretty generous starting salary. Besides, you can pay me back one day when you're a famous fashion icon.” I look into his brown eyes. They're so bright and pretty, even in the ugly fluorescent lighting of the hallway. He looks so eager, so excited. God, he really does like me, doesn't he?
    “ I get my own room?” I ask. “With a lock?”
    “ With a lock,” he promises. I think about my family and their threats of sending me to the clinic.
    “ Are you trying to rescue me?” I ask, sort of hoping that he is and hating myself for thinking that. What do I need rescuing from, really? My parents are wrong. I don't have an eating disorder, so I should have nothing to fear from their threats. Still, the cold little lump in my belly is begging me to consider the