༺ FORTY - ONE ༻

I think this is the cutest fourteen-year-old I've ever seen.

Brown, longer curls that sit around his head. Chubby, bright cheeks and a giant smile that makes both my and Chuck's eyes twinkle.

"Hi," he says formally, holding out his hand. "I'm Chuck Edison. Nice to meet you, Thomas's girlfriend."

I can't hold a laugh back. "Hi, Chuck. Nice to meet you, too! I'm Rosalind, but you can call me Rose."

"Okay. Rose. I like it." He nods in an approving way, then glances at Thomas and steps aside to let us in. "How'd Thomas even manage to pull you?" He whispers while Thomas takes his jacket off.

I laugh again. "Well, have you looked at him?"

Chuck stares at Thomas for a good few seconds, shaking his head. "Nope. I only see an idiot, but lovely cousin."

"I was hoping that. Would be crazy if you, as his cousin, would think the same of Thomas as me." I follow him into the living room, which is a small place with warm brown colors.

"What do you think of Thomas, then?"

"If you want me to name that whole list, we're gonna be here for quite a while. And I can tell—"

"—talking about Thomas for hours is torture for me, yes," he agrees, smiling because of the shared minds. "Oh, there Bark is."

My eyes follow a black lab walking closer in a slow pace, his tongue out of his mouth as he breathes heavily. "...Bark?"

"He barks a lot. So I named him Bark."

I pet the dog. "Hm. Not sure who's better at giving names. You or Thomas? Bark or Glitter?"

"I don't know either, but I know for sure that Bark is better than Glitter!"

"Strongly agreed," Thomas says.

"What's this and your hate to Glitter? She's lovely!" I cross my arms.

The boys give each other a glance, cough, and the avert their eyes.

"What?" I urge, straightening my back. "Tell me! Chuck, come on. Maybe I'll love Bark more, then."

Thomas shakes his head, but Chuck has already given up with a sigh. "Thomas and I like pranks," he starts.

"You like pranks. I only get dragged into them."

"Oh, shut up. You giggle like a little kid after each prank." Chuck waves Thomas off, resulting me to chuckle again. "So one day—"

"We were super young!" Thomas adds, his voice higher pitched into a more denying tone.

"—we sprayed Glitter pink and put glitters all over her..." Chuck says the words as if he only now realizes it's quite bad what they did.

I triumphantly turn to Thomas. "And you're wondering why she hates you?"

"I was eleven!" He peeps again.

"Is that the reason you called her Glitter?"

"Maybe." He pulls a face. "It's better than Bark. Just because he barks a lot, doesn't mean he should be named after it."

"Yeah, because if everyone would be named after what they do a lot, you'd be named idiotic yapper," Chuck spats, clearly not amused by the hate on his dog.

"I think it's a very fitting name," I tell Chuck. A glare from Thomas and I quickly add, "For Bark, I mean."

"Thank you!" He makes a pleasing sign with his hands, bows, and then looks around. "Can I get y'all something to drink?"

"Water, please."

"Coke for me."

Chuck watches Thomas. His hands are on his hips, and he tilts his head. "I think you've had enough coke, buddy. You look awful."

My eyebrows raise automatically at Thomas once Chuck vanishes into the kitchen, but the brunette shrugs. "He likes insulting me. And he's proud of it."

Soon, Chuck comes back with two glasses of Coca Cola, one with water, and a bowl with cookies I can definitely see have been handmade.

"It's the ones we baked on vacation. They're gonna taste a bit soft after all those days, but they're not expired." Chuck holds the bowl in front of my eyes.

I take one. I don't think, I just take one and then watch Thomas take one too, giving me a reassuring nod as he does so.

I eat the cookie. I'm not thinking about the taste a lot, but it's enjoyable enough for me to manage a smile. "They're really good, Chuck."

Beaming, he makes a jump on the couch. "Awesome!"

I wait about ten minutes before I excuse myself. I wish I wouldn't have, but everything goes so automatically that it almost feels natural. It almost is, at this point.

But I groan in frustration. The cookie won't get out. Is it too small to be vomited? Whatever. Small or not, it was too sugary and the calories must be gone.

I take one two three four of the pills in my pocket, then walk back to the two boys, smiling. "Back. Did I miss anything?"

"Well, you must've missed me, but besides that, nope." Chuck smiles. "Wanna watch something on the TV?"

✵

Sunday. Burger day.
Awful. Stupid. Uncomfortable.

I loved the tradition before, I hate it now.

I'm starting at a big hamburger, the fat juices still flowing off it. The melted cheese, the sauce, the burger itself... I wish I could rinse my eyes out with the fat.

Small cookie, okay. Some pancakes, alright. But I can't eat a hamburger this big. I just can't. It's stopping me again. That one part of me.

"You don't have to eat the whole thing," Newt tells me quietly. "The most important thing is to get more in your system than before, not to stuff yourself sick."

I nod, but keep pricking my fork in it without taking any bites. Mom and Dad's eyes are burning on me. Sonya by now got the message that I don't want to talk about it, so she no longer interferes with my food. I mentally thank her.

"Come on, love. Just eat it. Only a few bites," Dad assures. His tone is kind. He means it sweetly, but still...

Just eat it, I almost scoff. It's not that easy.

They were my lies. Have to deal with the consequences too, I tell myself again.

I take a few small bites. Panic is increasing. My leg is constantly hitting the floor, and my chest tightens at the thought of the scale.

But I change my thoughts. I imagine Thomas sitting across from me, smiling proudly and giving me nods. And though I know what will happen with the food later, it gives me a little more motivation to eat.

"I'm full," I say. Two third of the hamburger is gone. It's a lot. Too much.

"Alright. You did well. I'm proud." Mom squeezes my hand. I want to pull away, but I don't. As long as she believes I do what they say, I can keep losing weight until the part is satisfied.

I manage to take the opportunity to skip dinner by just telling them I'm still not hungry. They must be thinking a lot right now, but I keep my steal face there.

Tonight, Thomas is coming over and I don't want him to walk in on me crying over some stupid dinner.

✵

With coming over, I meant he's hanging out with Newt, but I managed to scoot my way in and now we're watching another movie.

I barely pay attention, though. I'm covered by a blanket and his hand is under it, right on my thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb while Newt is bloody next to us.

But if I scream "stop touching my thigh", hell will break lose. Honestly, though, I don't want him to stop. I just hate that we won't be able to continue anything at all, because he must go home after a while.

Newt clears his throat. That causes Thomas to stop. "I'm gonna grab an extra pillow because Rose stole every single one of 'em." He stares at the pillows I've indeed collected, then vanishes upstairs.

Not even a second later, Thomas is kissing me.

"Newt will—" but I cut myself off when he presses his lips harder onto mine, and squeezes my waist.

Eventually, I cup his face and move him closer. Newt's slowed down by his limp anyways. We have a minute more.

"You could stay tonight," I whisper.

"Hopefully," and he moves my hair out of the way. "Man, what kind of things are you taking that make me unable to stop?"

Laxatives, perhaps? Does that count?

I smile at my own thoughts—I can't help it—then lean closer to his touch. It's so risky but so good. We just haven't kissed at ballet, fearing someone would see and Janson would find out, which might make things even unsafer.

I run a hand through his hair, attempting to sign him to stop, but I'm still kissing back so the hint doesn't really get through.

Heat is streaming through my veins. Blush on my cheeks, pleasure everywhere. It's bloody—

"MY SISTER, THOMAS?!"

His yell echoes through the whole house. Thomas gets off me so fast that he falls off the couch and I pull the blanket on top of my body again, feeling exposed while there's nothing to freaking see because my clothes never went off or anything.

I innocently look at Newt, who's face has began to pale. I doubt he's angry. Just very shocked. A dropped open mouth, wide eyes, deep frown.

"Seriously?" He manages. His eyes trail from me to Thomas. Then a faint anger does start to form. "Or were ya harassing her, you bloody—"

"Woah!" I jump up, holding my hands in the air as if we got caught breaking rules. It feels like that. "He wasn't doing that, Newt."

He looks even more confused. "Don't bloody tell me what I think this means."

I can't even look at Thomas, that's how red my face is. "Eh. Well."

He's not angry, so that's good, I keep on chanting in my mind.

"Do I want to know if this is your first kiss?"

"The first one was actually... like six months ago?"

Thomas. Bloody. Edison.

He didn't have to say it like that, in such a triumphant way.

"SIX MONTHS?!"

He's going crazy. Would his eyeballs pop out if he gets even more shocked? I decide not to try it out.

"Wasn't it obvious?" Thomas attempts, but Newt keeps on shaking his head.

"Give me some holy water and then explain."