Marney in the Middle

Chapter 34: So Close

I told the girls I couldn't sit with them at lunch because I needed to study, to which they responded "lame" and "boring" and "you actually do that?" in unison.

Really, though, I was on a mission.

Last night I slept terribly. Took my brain forever to quiet down, and when I finally did fall asleep, I had weird stress dreams. Teeth falling out and showing up to class in your underwear kind of dreams. Becoming a tree and everyone speaking a different language all of the sudden kind of dreams. A few hours of that and I couldn't take it anymore.

I forced myself out of bed around three am, tiptoeing as to not wake Toria, and went downstairs to make tea and stare at the diningroom table. My mom had recently found her place mats, so the large, mahogany wood hid beneath a tablecloth patterned with stripes and leaves in autumn colors. I counted them over and over (there are twenty-three), trying to bore myself tired, but it didn't work. Nothing worked.

Sleep was just not going to happen – not until I dealt with the cause of my stress.

Tracking down Reese had been easy. If the bad boy wasn't behind the school, taking part in some bullying or shaming; and if he wasn't sitting on a bench in the parking lot, staring at the clouds with his arms crossed; he was in his third most frequented place on campus: the principal's office.

Now I stand, half-hidden beyond the corner in the hall, my face smooshed up against the cool bricks so I can watch the door. After another minute of waiting, I lower my book bag to the scuffed linoleum and swivel to lean my back against the wall. My head feels hot and heavy with sleep, and my eyelids want to shut so bad that my eyes burn.

But if I do this, I remind myself, everything will be better. And I can get some decent sleep. And maybe get back on track with Reese. Even though Toria isn't pushing that assignment for the time being, I think I might want to continue on my own.

Not for Makeover Marney, though – for me. Because I like him. A lot.

A few posters advertising the Halloween dance are taped to the lockers across from me, reminding me that I need to get my costume figured out before it's too late. As I'm about to pull out my cellphone to email myself a quick reminder, the girl's volleyball team saunters past. They're loud, animated voices and lean bodies fill the hallway, making me feel smaller than my five foot three.

One girl with coffee-colored skin and contact-enhanced sapphire eyes glances at me. She offers a small nod of recognition. Blinking, not sure why she's even aware of my presence, I nod, too.

Is this what being popular is like? Casual acknowledgement from people I don't even know the names of?

I shake my head – this whole makeover thing is still such a trip. A part of me imagines it won't ever become commonplace. This just isn't my normal.

In the returned quiet solitude of the hallway, I heave a yawn, stretching my arms above my head as I do. The blouse Toria chose for me lifts up with my movement and exposes my midriff.

I glance down at myself. My belly is flat, but in a way that says I don't workout. Because, let's face it, I don't. Patting it with my palms like it's a drum, I wonder momentarily if I should. Workout, I mean. Or, for that matter, if Toria will make me do it as part of Makeover Marney.

Do I need abs to be passably popular?

I push the thought away at the sound of a door opening. Peaking around the corner, I see Reese. My heart flips, and I have to mentally kick myself to stop from turning to flee.