Please Don’t Make Me Eat Cake
I jog in place in my room, slamming my feet into the carpet, music in my earbuds jazzing me up to jog fast to the beat. I would use the treadmill, but I just did fifty-five minutes on it, and if Jackson saw me go back on I’d never hear the end of it, so I continue my workout in the privacy of my room. Mom said she’d be home late tonight because of work.
I sniff as a tear snakes out of my eye. I wish she were really coming home, but pretending she’s just at work and isn’t dead comes much easier to me. I’m such a fool. I’m like a little kid having an imaginary mom-friend.
I hear a sound, but it isn’t loud enough to get me to stop jogging. I feel a tap on my shoulder and jump. It’s Jackson.
He hands me the phone. “It’s Dad.”
I pull my earbuds out. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hi, Landra. How are things going there?”
“Oh, just fine, Dad. How is Boston?”
“Good. I’ll be home Saturday morning, probably around eleven.”
“OK,” I say, fingering my abdomen to see if it’s flattened after the cake bloat.
“Jackson behaving himself?”
“Yes, he’s fine. He’s Jackson. Same as always.”
“Right. I get it. Just wanted to connect with you and talk to hear your voice, tell you I love you.”
“Love you too, Dad.” I smile. It is good to talk to him rather than just text.
“Got enough food for dinner? You can use the money in my top dresser drawer if you guys want to order a pizza or something.”
No way. “OK, thanks, Dad. Could I take some to get into the football game tomorrow?”
“Sure, take what you need. Take some for a snack too. That’s nice of you to go to Jackson’s game.”
I ain’t going for Jackson. “Yep,” I say. Hunter’s grin and brown eyes flash in my head. He’s so hot, it makes my insides twirl like a billowy chiffon skirt. In scarlet. With shimmers.
“Have a good night, and I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, Dad. Have a good flight.”
“Bye.”
Jackson yells down. “Dad said order a pizza. I’m ordering now.”
And I’m not eating it. “OK,” I yell back. It’s all his. I have a bag of carrots with my name on it in the fridge drawer. A tiny one, but it still counts as food. I slip the earbuds back into my ears and imagine getting slimmer with each step. Getting perfect for Hunter.
My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Becca.
Becca: What ya doing?
Allandra: Working out.
Becca: Oh please, don’t tell me. Working off the cake?
Allandra: Yes. So?
Becca: Live a little, will ya?
Allandra: I do.
I sit on my bed.
Becca: Hunter sure lived it up eating that cake. That was hot, right? I could watch hot guys eat cake all day. S E X Y.
Allandra: Hell yeah it was. Super yummy. Better than actually eating it myself.
I smile at my phone.
Becca: Nice. You might be right, though maybe not. Cake was stellar. I think Hunter’s really into you with stopping by the table at lunch like that.
Allandra: Ya really think? OMG. I’m just so excited!! Him looking for me at the game is almost sorta like a date. Right??
Becca: True. U R right. Stalker vibes and longing stares paid off.
Allandra: Yes. I can NOT believe this is happening!
She texts back right away.
Becca: I gotta go. Mom’s got dinner ready. Text me later.
Allandra: Will do.
Becca: And slow down a little with the exercise, will ya?
Can’t do that. Becca might as well tell me to breathe less. Impossible.
Jackson left early this morning, so I’m home alone. I walk to the kitchen and notice gooey white clumps stuck to the window—toilet paper. We got toilet papered during the night. White paper streams down from every tree branch of the tree in our front yard, at least two rolls’ worth. It was probably cheerleaders messing with Jackson because of the game tonight.
Changing my mind about breakfast, I head toward the bathroom to shower instead. I feel too nauseated to eat anything. The hot water is luscious as it dives down my body, sliding to my tiny feet. I inherited Mom’s little feet, size six. I can even wear her shoes that are still in the closet. I dress in my chunky school sweatshirt with our school name on it—spirit wear in preparation for the game. I’m kind of grateful to hide my body in a giant sweatshirt today. Cake fat hits a body quick.
At the bus stop, Becca is messing around on her phone.
“Hi,” I say.
She doesn’t look up. “Hey.”
“You are going tonight, right?” I ask.
“Yep. Going. Ginna said she and Logan will be there too. Logan will be late.”
“Good. I don’t want to be alone.”
“You won’t be. You’ll be with Hunter. I’m just glad Ginna and Logan are going so I’m not alone when you’re off with him.”
“Off with him? I don’t think we’ll be anywhere but in the stands watching the game.”
“Yeah, well, unless he drags you off somewhere.” She finally looks up at me. Smirks. “Which would leave me by myself if they weren’t going.”
I sigh. “Oh, I wouldn’t leave you Becca.”
“You would for Hunter, and you know it.”
She’s a bit salty today. I touch her arm. “You OK?”
“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well is all. Too worried about this test coming up. I don’t feel ready.”
Ah, it’s a school thing. Thank goodness—I was worried it was me. “You’ll do great. You always do.”
“I’m not so sure. This will be really tough. It’s super important. I’m riding a really low A and a bad test grade could slide me into a B. I can’t have a B. Mom definitely can’t have one.”
“I bet you will do fine.” I smile at her, and she smiles back.
“Hope so.” She’s back on her phone. Now I get it—she’s studying notes. I give her silence the rest of the drive to school so she can study uninterrupted.
I get off the bus, and Brian stalks me instantly like he was waiting—comes at me like he’s a puppy and I’m his dinner.
“Sleep well, my queen?” His directed stare actually hurts me. I’m feeling really ugly today, so his intense look stabs at me way too harshly.
“Yes.”
“What’s your bed like?”
I stop walking and stare straight ahead. “What?” Did he really just ask me that? My cheeks actually flush. Who asks this kind of thing?
He stops but then starts walking so I walk again too. “I’ll share first. Mine is dark blue with orange and light-blue pillows. Double bed.”
“What, you need to know for your fantasies?” I scoff. Wow.
“Yeah, kind of.” He laughs, trying to turn this into a joke. “No, just making conversation.”
Right. I don’t believe him for a second. I decide to indulge. Why not? Give him a morsel of me to suck on. Naughty grin takes over because it’s kind of fun to tease him. I smile sexy and sly. “Well, my bed is a queen bed.”
“Well, of course it is, my queen.” His smile couldn’t be more giant.
“The big comfy comforter is light pink with some dark-pink and some white flowers. I have five pillows of severe fluffiness, and my sheets are Egyptian cotton with a high thread count. Super soft.” I shoot him a smile as he nods, his own smile growing by the second. “It’s so good. Soft. Luscious.” I even roll my eyes, ending in a giggle.
Brian’s grin is freaking giant.
Becca comes up behind us as we enter the school. “You two aren’t having a bed conversation, are you really?”
I laugh. “Yes, we really are. Your turn, Becca. I already know though.”
She laughs. “Three-way bed talk. Alright then, I’m in. Mine is a king-size bed. I’m lucky, I know. I have a red bedspread with a dark red duvet, ’cause my mom’s an interior designer and she loves anything dark red. I don’t really get a say in it, but I do like red. I have scratchy pillows I chuck to the ground each night, ’cause they suck, and I use my fluffy deep-red pillows to sleep on. And it’s damn good. Wish I was still there.”
Brian stops walking. “Catch ya later,” he says seeming a bit perhaps hot and bothered as he almost flat-out runs down the hall on the left.
I chuckle.
“Well, that was weird. You are torturing him pretty hard, aren’t you,” she accuses.
“Hey, he started it. I just played along.” Was kinda delicious though, teasing him that way.
“Wow. You are damn lucky, my friend. You’ve got not one, but two guys pining for you right now. Not that I blame them.”
“Thanks. You’re too sweet though. I feel a bit ugly today.”
“Shut your mouth right now, or I’ll slap it shut for you.” She glares at me. “You silly little freak.”
“Noted,” I say. “See you later. I’ve got to drop off a book.”
“OK. Later. And quit being down on yourself. Someone with two guys hot for her is nowhere near ugly, my friend.”
Well, if not ugly, then fat. “I’ll try,” I say. My hands go to my hips to feel if they’re bigger or slimmer than yesterday. Sadly, they feel bigger. Too cushiony.
“And by the by, your hair looks utterly stunning and amazing today.”
I finger my honey-blond hair tips, twirling one of the many curls I spent thirty minutes creating this morning, and just shrug. I wave as she starts off, walking away down the other hall.
I drop off my late library book on my way to language arts and lament that I have no time to Hunter stalk.
Class is so boring. All I think about is Hunter, so it’s actually not bad to sit through the lecture as my brain entertains me with images of him. I replay him eating the cake in my mind. I never ever thought cake could be sexy, but he made it oh so sexy. And then some. My stomach begins to growl, and I push hard on it to calm its furious tremors. It’s super mad at me. I ate nothing before school. I should ask Mom to make that granola I love. I’d eat some if she did. If only. Sigh. The football game can’t come quick enough for me.
I look in my mirror at my locker and position it so I can see Hunter when he appears behind me coming down the hall. He should be coming by any second. Ah, there he is. How satisfying to see his face again. I turn toward him with a real smile as he walks past.
He’s walking with two other sophomore football players. He smiles at me and nods. “See you at the game tonight, Landra.”
My heart flip-flops into my stomach, and both land in a jumbled heap of OMG at the bottom of my feet. “Yes, see you then.” He flicks his eyes back at me, which sends alternating shivers and ripples of heat right through me. It’s like a hot shower right here in the hallway. Might just have myself a heart attack right here, right now. Hell-o!
As I turn away from Hunter, Brian pops up in front of me, way too close.
“Hi, my lovely queen. How is your day going so far?”
I reach up, put my hand on his chest, and gently push him back. “Brian, again, personal space, please.”
“So sorry. You’re just so magnetic.” He smiles, and it lights up his whole face.
Ugh. Really? But still, I laugh. How can I not—he’s too much. “Am I the metal or the magnet?”
He taps his temple. “Hmm … you are the metal, since I came to you.”
I laugh. “What if I’m stainless steel, and magnets don’t stick to me?”
“Oh, they stick alright. Look at me, the magnet drawn and sticking to you.” He actually steps closer to me. His eyes burn bright blue, gorging on me, barging right into my soul through my eyes. Damn, this boy is intense.
I take a step away, and my full backside touches the whole locker. “Brian, personal space, like now.”
“Sorry.” He smiles. His swift backward motion relaxes me.
I turn to my locker to put away what I don’t need, and out of the corner of my eye, I get a glimpse of his hand feeling the air around my curls, quivering. I turn around quick so others don’t see him imaginarily feeling up my hair.
I desperately need a change of conversation. “You working on your paper yet?”
“Yep. You?” It works, and he gives me more space as he takes another step back. “It’s been a lot of work.”
I hug my notebook to my chest to cover my girls up as he keeps looking there, though I don’t know why I care. I had gotten too hot, so I took my bulky sweatshirt off, revealing my thin, soft T-shirt. It makes me kind of uncomfortable, being that it’s paper thin. Our school logo goes right across the girls, highlighting them in white lettering, announcing the curve of my chest to the world. And clearly to Brian. “I’ve started, though I have a lot left,” I say.
“I’m almost done. Worked real hard on it because I have a lot going on this weekend.” He smooths his hair to the side.
“Ah, I wish I were almost done. I hate writing papers.”
“Going to the game tonight?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say as I sway slightly back and forth. Ah, thoughts of meeting up with Hunter. Sitting thigh to thigh with him in the stadium stands. Shivering together in the cold evening air.
“Me too. Maybe we can sit together.” He raises his eyebrow. A little smile comes across his face.
Ugh. I can’t let Hunter see me sitting with Brian. He would think I’m with him. “Um, well, no. I’m sort of meeting someone.”
“Oh.” He looks at his hands, then at his phone. Sniffs. “I’ll make you my favorite carrot cake for Monday. Same time, same place.” He leaves before I can even say, “Please don’t make me cake.”