Page 2 of Grin and Bear It

My mother’s figure had been slim and svelte since she was young. She’d told me that many times ever since I was a little girl. She’d also shown me plenty of pictures of herself that generally made clear the differences between her body and mine. She didn’t know what the hell to do with a plus size daughter, but that hadn’t stopped her from trying her best to ‘fix’ things for me. With a deep sigh, I pushed my arm past the hangers, right to the back of my wardrobe and pulled out one of the many floral monstrosities she’d bought for me.

“Oh no…” Colleen said, shaking her head. “No, Ellie, you can’t.”

“Dress, tights, ballet flats,” I told myself with a sharp nod. “And a fucking cardie.”

“Librarian chic is a thing, but not that,” my flatmate argued.

I couldn’t engage, not when I was dressing myself in ten seconds flat, smoothing the folds of the too stiff printed cotton down over my hips.

“Fuck, you look like a floral pinata,” Colleen said.

“Thanks.” I yanked a cardigan off its hanger and pulled it on over the bloody dress. A floral frock could be really quite lovely, but Mum could never seem to find them. She seemed to think that lurid colours and hectic patterns would somehow disguise my shape and size.

Instead, no one would be able to look away from the horror that was this dress.

I got my tights on and then my shoes, snatching the box of marking from Coll’s hands with an apologetic smile, right before I made for the door.

“I’ll have the shower sorted this afternoon… Fuck!”

“What now?” Coll asked, settling against my bedroom doorframe.

“I’ve got a staff meeting after school.”

I’m not sure if other professions’ staff meetings were a combination of death by PowerPoint and courtroom drama, but ours were. Our executive staff came and pummelled us with all of the agendas that were being pushed by the department, and then all the bolshy teachers would start pushing back, citing union rules and regulations at the drop of a hat.

And I’d just be begging to have that time to mark my students’ work, so I could get my reports written.

“After that,” I promised. “Oh, fuck! I can’t.”

“What now?” Coll’s voice was dry.

“I’m supposed to be seeing Derek.”

“Oh, god, not that dickhead—”

The theme fromJawsplayed on my phone, silencing any further discussion. I should have been hearing that when I was halfway to work, not when I was still at home.

“Gotta go.”

I sprinted for the front door, then leapt into my car, turning the ignition and praying to the car gods for a good day when the engine turned over the first time. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” I chanted, then pulled out of the driveway at speed, taking off down the road. And all was well until I hit peak hour traffic.

“Fuuuuuck…” I groaned, looking at the banks of cars lined up on the main road. Then I flicked my indicator on and smiled hopefully at the drivers next to me, hoping they’d let me in.

Chapter2

“Late again, Ellie?”

I was speed-walking down the hallway to my faculty office when a familiar arch voice stopped me in my tracks. I closed my eyes in frustration, then turned slowly, plastering a sheepish smile on my face as I did so.

“June,” I said, looking at my assistant principal. “We had a little plumbing emergency this morning.” I touched the cut on my forehead, then winced again.

“Another emergency?” June’s nickname amongst the students was Dragon Lady and it was easy to see why. She had a wiry mane of bright red hair that formed a heavily lacquered halo around her head. Her eyeshadow was poison green, applied perfectly, of course, and her thin lips were frequently pursed as they were now as she looked me over, taking in the damn dress. Her perfectly lacquered nails clicked as she folded her arms. “One is unfortunate, two is terrible luck: but three in one week? I’m beginning to wonder if there’s something else going on here.”

I could’ve answered that easily, but I wasn’t about to. I’d been a terrible dreamer when I was a kid. I only got through university with Coll’s help. I was smart, really smart. I knew that because I had been tested several times at school to try and work out what the hell was wrong with me. The issue was that when I was functioning, I was amazing. My teachers would be ecstatic about my essays and test results, and they’d rave excitedly to my parents.

But when I wasn’t…?

I would end up in ‘discussions’ about my lack of consistency, my inability to do as expected. Just like this, standing before an important authority figure, seeing that same look of disappointment and irritation as I’d seen so many times on Mum’s face and so many others, too. Except the look on June’s face usually veered towards disdain rather than simple disappointment.

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