Page 105 of It's in the Contract
I melt. “Really?” I move them to the cooling rack while Mom finishes her eggs.
“And you think . . .” Mom pauses. “You think what happened at the dance last night was the best dance ever?” She gives me a hard stare.
I swallow. “I’m sure the gossip sites are going crazy.”
Dad pauses mid-bite, a smear of chocolate on his upper lip. “What happened?”
I sigh. “Mom, you already know some of this, but—” I tell them the whole story, Mom’s frown deepening and Dad’s facegrowing more flabbergasted. I tell them everything about the fake friendship contract and my scheme to win the crown.
“So last night it all came out at the dance, but I realized something.” I can’t help it that a small, proud smile graces my lips. Mom will be upset about what happened, but her disapproval doesn’t send fear shooting up and down my spine like it used to. Maybe I don’t need her approval as much as I thought I did.
Maybe the only one who needs to approve of me is me.
“This pressure to appear perfect is crushing me,” I say. “I don’t want to be constantly posting on social media. I don’t want to always worry about what I’m wearing or how my hair looks. I don’t want to be counting every calorie and hopping on the scale every day. That is not the life that makes me happy.” I breathe and take in their faces. “And Mom, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to wake up early to lift weights with you anymore.”
Oof. That last part was painful to get out. Mom’s face falls like I’ve crushed her soul. Guilt twists my insides, but I remind myself that I can’t keep doing things just to make her happy. What I want matters, too. “And I don’t want my dating choices to be influenced by anything other than who I love. I’m dating Zeke,” I finish. I wait.
Dad dusts crumbs from his hands. He stands, moves around the table, and pulls me into his arms. “I’m so proud of you, honey. You are wise beyond your years. There are adults who haven’t figured out what you have.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I squeeze Dad back. “Thank you. That means so much.”
“I know you’re under a lot of pressure because of me,” he says. “I didn’t realize how much that pressure was getting to you. I love you no matter what. I hope you know that.” He pulls back to look me in the eye. “Get off of social media. Or stay and only post what you want. Start a private account. I don’t care. Youdon’t need to be on there just because people are curious about our family. Screw them.”
I smile and sit back down in my chair. “Thank you, Dad.” I take a scone and put it on my plate. Mom watches my every movement as I lift the scone to my lips and take a bite. Cinnamon, nutmeg, and dark chocolate explode on my tongue, and the scone is the perfect texture—crispy edges with pillowy insides. Getting that texture right is not easy, but I did it. Happiness makes me glow inside.
Mom swallows. “Callie, I . . . I love you. You’ve grown so much.” Tears fill her eyes.
I hold my breath, still bracing for a lecture. But maybe I’m wrong.
“You would’ve been so proud of her last night, Ben,” Mom says, looking at Dad. He smiles. “She stood up in front of everyone, and high school kids can be so judgy and horrible sometimes. But Callie admitted her mistake and apologized to them all.” Mom looks at me. “That took courage, Cal. I would rather have a daughter who can own her mistakes than a daughter who feels she has to put on a perfect face all the time, no matter the cost.”
The tears in my eyes finally spill over.
“I realize I . . . I let my insecurities filter to you,” Mom stares at her plate. “I didn’t mean to put so much pressure on you, but I see now that it isn’t healthy. You made some mistakes, but it seems that you’ve handled things beautifully and have grown so much.” Mom looks up, her wet eyes meeting mine. “I’m so sorry, Cal. And I’m so proud of you.”
The tears in my eyes finally spill over, and I stand and hurry around the table to give Mom a hug. When we break apart, Mom completely shocks me by grabbing a scone off the cooling rack, fast, like she has to do it before she changes her mind. She takes a bite and closes her eyes. “Cal. This is heavenly.”
My heart soars.
Forty-Four
I walk down the school hallway, and everything’s different, but not. I’m me. I’m the me I was meant to be.
I’m wearing my favorite comfy jeans and a cute blue sweater I’ve had for forever. My hair is in a messy bun with my bangs framing my face, and I’m wearing minimal makeup. My morning routine that used to consist of meticulously doing my hair, re-painting my nails, and carefully choosing a perfume has changed. Though I still carefully chose my perfume—pineapple passionfruit. It’s Zeke’s favorite.
Zeke walks down the hallway next to me. We stop at my locker and grab a few things, and he insists on carrying my books.
Suzy laughs. “Well, he sure comes in handy.”
I grin so brightly I think I rival the sun.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you this happy,” Suzy says.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this happy.”
People whisper. People stare. They still take pictures that I’m sure will go up later with mean captions like, “She’s let herself go.”
But I dig deep, searching for that pit of dread in my stomach, and . . . it’s not there.
