Lift // Hamliza

• chapter 7 •

• Eliza •

After Angie and Peggy helped me choreograph and study, I finally calmed down. It's a good think I had them here or else I could have turned to something else. That's my dirty little secret I guess. Nobody knows about what I used to do. And what I still sometimes do.

When I was in my freshman year of high school the pressure really began to hit me. I didn't know how to deal with it so I'd beat myself up over it. Literally.

Whether it was "accidentally" cutting myself while cooking or cutting alone in my room. Or "accidentally" burning myself during campfires. It was never the same. Or saying I wasn't hungry when I really was. When I felt the need to do it around other people I just made an excuse. It wasn't difficult.

I never really understood why it was that bad. It caused scars, sure. It hurt. But I was always careful enough to not get killed. It's just a little bit of pain. It's not that bad.

Even if Angelica and Peggy knew about it, I doubt they'd understand. That's just how everyone is. They fake concern and try to help but they don't truly care.

So I put on a fake smile and suck it up, suck it in. The world doesn't need to know my problems. The only person who should see my broken face is the reflection in the mirror.

Pushing my slightly self destructive thoughts aside, I decided instead to focus on my costume for the upcoming competition. For me, the second best thing to dancing is choosing the costume. A friend of mine, Hercules, is a fantastic tailor and designer and always helps me.

I sat down in my small office that my dad insisted each of us had. I sometimes wished we weren't rich, just normal. It seems silly that we all have offices, dance studios and bathrooms when some people didn't have bedrooms.

I got it my sketchpad and scribbled the name of the song, competition date and competition name. Drawing was one of my secret passions, and I'm proud to say I'm fairly good at it.

Tapping my pencil against my chin, I finally come up with it. Instead of my "signature" blue dress, it's going to be a deep forest green with long sleeves. I want the skirt to be short but flowy, and for the top to have a triangle cutout.

When I finish crafting my design, I took a picture and texted it to Herc.

Eliza: hey Herc! I have a competition in two weeks and finally designed my costume. Do you think you could make it and by when?

Herc: love the design!! Of course I can do it, it'll be done about 4 days before the competition. Is that alright?

Eliza: perfect. Thank you.

Herc: no problem. Also, Ang was texting me earlier and said something about you and Alex?

God damn it, Angelica. Can't you keep your mouth shut for once. I blush a deep red and reply.

Eliz: what do you mean? We saw each other at Subway and hung out there. Nothing more.

Herc: Liza, i can tell through texts you like him. He and I are friends, want me to hook you two up?

Eliza: you'd do that for me?

Herc: E, we've been best friends since the third grade. I'd do anything for you.

Eliza: thanks Herc. 💕

Herc: no problem, smiles.

I clicked my phone off after his last text. He had nicknamed me Smiles after we met in third grade. Something happened right before lunch and I was happy about it and wouldn't stop smiling. We met when he walked up to me and said, "what's with that happy face, Smiles? Most people aren't that happy about lunchtime." And since then, we'd always been by each other's side.

People thought it was weird that Hercules and I were so close but not dating. I had honestly never felt any other affection for him than platonically, and he was gay and probably had a thing for Laf. Scratch that, he definitely has a thing for Laf.

The door to my office swung open as my father walked in unexpectedly.

"Dad? You're home from London earlier than I though you be." I exclaimed, leaping up and hugging him. He'd been out for business for a few weeks now, not that it was anything new. I peeked behind him.

"Where's Mama?" I asked, not seeing my mother, Catherine, anywhere.

"That's why I'm home early." He replied with a grim expression.