Now We're Even

Now We're Even Chapter One

Chapter One

Eliza Thompson was a "Chronic Worrier" according to her mother, Beth the self-proclaimed, "Psychologist," of the family.

"See it says so right here," Beth announced, slapping the cover of Psych Weekly magazine.

"Twelve signs of a chronic worrier.

Sign number one, waking up early, sign number two, you're often emotional or upset. Sign number three"-

"Okay! I get it," Eliza moaned, turning back to look at herself in the dressing room mirror.

Well, she is right, Eliza thought tugging at her silky blue gown and thinking back to the awkward moment she'd had with the store employee earlier.

"What size do you wear?" the thin blonde woman had asked, looking Eliza up and down, like she was on display herself.

"Um two," she'd mumbled, wishing that she hadn't worn her baggy sweatshirt.

It made her look so frumpy.

"Actually, she wears a size six," Beth had corrected.

"No, I don't mom!" Eliza snapped, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks.

"Well which is it?" the lady asked, looking confused.

"Two," Eliza'd answered, just as her mom was saying, "six."

"I just want you to be more confident," Beth gently said, closing her magazine.

You just like to embarrass me, is more like it, Eliza bitterly thought, remembering the time, Beth'd asked her if she was wearing a bra.

In front of her grandpa!

"I guess," Eliza finally mumbled, squinting at herself in the mirror.

The dress would've been really pretty.

If Eliza hadn't been so oddly shaped.

At 5"9 she was way too tall to be seventeen.

And she had the longest, most gangly arms known to man.

And all the weight that she wished sat at her chest, sat at her backside.

And yes, her calves too.

"No way I'm wearing this," Eliza announced, crossing her arms over her middle.

"What? Why not?" Beth practically shouted.

"Because you can see all of my eczema scars!" Eliza stated, looking at all the red and black marks that spotted her pecan skin.

"Nonsense. They're barely noticeable."

Eliza growled. "Yes, they"-

There was a knock on the door just then.

"Come in," Beth called.

Eliza pinned her mom with a look.

"What?" Beth asked, her eyes wide.

Eliza sighed. "You can't just"-

"Awwww! You look so cute!" The saleswoman gushed, clapping her hands like an infant.

"Thanks," Eliza mumbled.

"So, are we buying?"

"No," Eliza answered, just as Beth was saying, "yes."

After looking around three more shops and trying on nearly twenty more dresses, Eliza finally settled on the blue silky gown.

Mostly so Beth would quit riding her.

And also, because she knew it would match her boyfriend Carl's tux.

If they wanted to be crowned prom king and queen again, then their outfits had to be perfectly coordinated.

"Ugh. I might wear the white one," Carl announced, the next day at school.

Eliza looked across the lunch table at Carl, then shouted, "what! After all the work I went through to make sure we look good! And you're gonna wear that cheap get-up!"

Carl rolled his eyes, then said through a mouthful of Doritos, "the suit isn't cheap! It belonged to my dad!"

"I don't care if it belonged to the prince of England. It's tacky looking and you're not wearing it!"

Carl's eyes flashed with anger. "Look woman, you don't tell me"-

"Guys, guys it doesn't matter what the two of you wear," Cameron Muniz, one of Eliza's best friends, loudly interjected, raising both hands, to silence the feuding pair.

"You know we're all gonna vote for you."

Carl nodded in agreement. "She's right. I mean I am the most popular guy in school."

Eliza rolled her eyes, annoyed with how conceited Carl was.

After school Eliza and Beth drove down to Trisha's Hair Salon.

Trisha was Eliza's aunt and Beth's sister, so Eliza often got her hair styled there for free.

Only problem was that Trisha was nowhere to be found today.

"She's sick," Lisa Simms, one of the stylists told Beth and Eliza.

"But she promised to cut my hair before prom!" Eliza shrieked.

"Liza!" Beth cried, pinning her daughter with a look of disgust.

Eliza blew out her cheeks, then with mock shame, replied, "I know. I know, I'm sorry."

"Well there's no reason to pout," Lisa grinned, walking around the cashier's counter.

She gently touched Eliza's shoulder.

"Trish isn't the only one who can style hair."

So, with extreme hesitation, Eliza slammed her butt down into Lisa Simms' chair and sat back.

Eliza had absolutely no idea why she was so nervous.

She knew that Lisa wouldn't've been hired by Trisha if she couldn't style hair.

But still....

"And I want it about an inch longer than the girl in this picture," Eliza firmly stated, pointing to the photo on her phone.

The model in the picture had a dark brown shoulder length bob.

Lisa Nodded. "Got it."

And she did!

And Eliza couldn't help but smile as she peered down at herself in Lisa's mirror.

"I love it!" Eliza squealed, swinging her hair back and forth.

"You're awesome."

Lisa smiled. "I know it."