It's My Life (12 page)

Jenny called this morning
to invite me to go out to the lake with her family. And since it was predicted to be in the nineties today, I gladly agreed. They have a really cool boat with a cabin and everything, but it's still fast enough to pull water-skiers. I've only water-skied a few times but managed to get up after only one false start where I swallowed only part of the lake.

Jenny's mom packed a great picnic lunch, and all in all it was a really fun day. I always did like doing stuff with Jenny when she's away from her friends at school. It's like she's a whole different person.

And today she told me that she's getting tired of their little clique and all the superficiality. “I'm ready to be a
real
person,” she said at the end of the day as we sat on the dock with our feet dangling in the water, waiting for her dad to load up the boat. “You seem real to me, Caitlin. Not like some of my friends who can only think about one-upping somebody else.”

I thanked her and considered telling her the only
reason I was real (whatever that might mean) was probably due to God, but somehow I just didn't say it.

Then she went on. “It's my senior year, and I decided not to try out for cheerleading because I'm sick and tired of playing games. I'm just going to be myself, hang with whomever I please, and just see what happens.”

“I think that sounds like a great plan,” I agreed. “In fact, it's pretty much what I intend to do too.” I didn't mention that I'd also intended to tell everyone who would listen about God. But frankly, I wasn't doing such a hot job of that right at that moment.

We chatted some more about being real and being who we really were, and then it was time to go home. I had a fun day, and yet I felt sort of guilty when it was all said and done. Did I feel guilty for having a good time with a good friend? Or was it because of the things I didn't say? But then am I supposed to do nothing but talk about God? Or are there times just to hang out and be normal? Then again, what is “normal” anyway? For some reason I feel a little confused right now. But on the other hand, I'm tired and don't really want to think about it too hard.

To tell the truth, I don't really feel like writing in my diary much today. The only reason I'm writing is because it's been several days, and I've got a few minutes to kill. But it's not like I haven't been writing anything; I actually wrote a long letter to Josh just yesterday. And besides,
I've been busy working after school, and then I've been doing a lot with Jenny lately too. We're becoming pretty good friends.

I've tried to include Beanie, like inviting her to eat lunch together and stuff. And I think Jenny actually likes her. But Beanie seems to want to distance herself, like she looks down on Jenny or something. Now, that bugs me a lot, because I think just because Jenny's been “popular” doesn't mean that God doesn't want us to hang with her, does it? I mean, does God like the loser types better than the popular types? I don't think so. And that might not even be what Beanie is thinking. I'm not totally sure. In fact, I haven't even talked to Beanie for a couple of days now. Maybe
that's
what's bugging her. But then, it's a two-way street–she can make the move to talk to me just as easily as I can to her.

Anyway, I think I've written just about enough for now. Besides, Jenny's going to be here soon. I'm not sure what we're doing tonight, but I'm sure it'll be fun. And I have to admit, I'm enjoying just being a
normal seventeen-year-old girl
again. And I'm trying not to think too much about heavy things these days. I had my physical and the doctor told my mom that maybe the trip to Mexico had caused me to suffer stress, or perhaps I'd been having a little culture shock. Anyway, he told me to just take it easy. And that's just what I've been doing. So, is there anything wrong with that?

I'm not going to apologize for not writing in my diary every day. I'm just not going to do it. I'm tired of apologizing, and besides I've been pretty busy lately and life's been fun. Jenny and I are having a great time being seniors; we just do whatever we want, hang with whomever we want, and we don't worry about what
anyone
thinks. It's great! And we do try to include Beanie, really we do! And occasionally she actually joins in, but usually she doesn't. I'm not even sure why, but I think she may be jealous of Jenny. Still, I do lots of stuff with Beanie (I certainly have NOT dumped her), but I figure there's room in my life for more than just one friend. (Although I do consider Beanie to be my best friend and have told her as much, but I doubt she completely believes me.) And I still consider Andrea to be a good friend too, but since she goes to another school, it's more natural not to hang together so much. What's wrong with having a variety of friends anyway?

But that's not how Beanie sees it. And I guess it should come as no surprise when she calls me up tonight and says some pretty mean things. At least I think they're mean. She says she's just trying (in her words)
to speak the truth in love
. So she proceeds to tell me how she went to church tonight and Pastor Tony was preaching on this very subject, and now she feels like she's supposed to come home, call me up, and tell me all about it. “Thanks anyway,” I tell her, “but if I'd wanted to hear Tony's sermon, I would've gone to church myself.”

Well, talk about opening a can of worms. She then feels it's her Christian responsibility to tell me that she's “worried about
my
spiritual condition.” Those were
her
words! And I'm wondering, who is she to worry about
my
condition? I mean, this is the girl who got herself pregnant last year, was nearly suicidal, and pretty much a great, big mess. But do I mention these uncomfortable subjects? No way! But as a result, Beanie just launches into this little sermonette about how she used to look up to me in spiritual things, but now she thinks I'm just throwing everything away in order to be Jenny Lambert's best friend.

“I am
not
Jenny's best friend!” I shoot back at her. “We're just good friends. And besides, I thought you and I were trying to reach out to people at Harrison–”

“Have you told her about Jesus, Caitlin?”

I resent the question and don't even want to answer, but I give it a try. “You know there's more than one way to share something with someone,” I begin, feeling a little hopeless. “Maybe I want to build a friendship with her first, and then I can share later.”

“Well, that's perfectly fine, Caitlin, but I'm just wondering who's influencing whom here? Every day, I see you starting to act more and more like Jenny and less and less like yourself. It seems like you just don't care about the same things anymore. And I can't figure it out. I mean, would you just throw away everything God has done for you to be friends with Jenny Lambert?”

Now I know Beanie really does care about me (we've been through too much together to believe anything
else), but the tone of her voice is getting pretty sharp, and she sounds genuinely mad. And frankly she's really hurting my feelings. But I don't tell her that. I only tell her she's being totally ridiculous and that I'm sorry she feels this way. There seems to be little else to say, and we both hang up. And now I feel absolutely lousy.

But the truth is, this really doesn't have all that much to do with Jenny Lambert. And no, I wouldn't throw God away for Jenny, or anyone for that matter. At least, I hope not. But I do think I might be using Jenny's friendship as a distraction maybe (not that I'm using Jenny because I do believe we are friends, really and truly). But spending time with her might be sort of an escape from something I don't quite want to face just yet.

Okay, maybe I know exactly what it is that I'm trying to escape, but I don't want to admit it. You see, it's hard to put these feelings down into words. I'm not ready to see them in bold black ink just yet.

So maybe I can deal with this tomorrow.

Today (after a day of silent treatment times two yesterday) Beanie made the first move and apologized to me. I told her I was sorry too, but that I was confused about some things (I didn't go into detail). But we ended up hugging and crying. And Jenny watched the whole thing with amusement, then told us that she loved how “real” we were, then invited us to go to the football game with her tonight. To my amazed wonder, Beanie
agreed to come and was even a good sport the whole time. We all ended up laughing and joking and having a fun time.

After the game, we went out for pizza. A lot of kids were there and it was pretty wild and messy. And afterwards, Beanie and I talked Jenny into hanging around and helping to clean up the mess (Beanie's idea, although I agreed it was a good one). At first, Jenny thought we were joking, but then I pointed out the couple who owned the place looked harried and tired and would probably appreciate it. So then she just jumped right in. Well, just as we were finishing up, the guy came up and commented on what nice young ladies we were, to which Beanie added, “It's only because of Jesus in us.” And I nodded, not really wanting to give a public testimony but not wanting to put Beanie off again either.

Then the guy says, “Oh, that's nice. You're Christian girls then?”

To which Jenny answers proudly, “Just them, not me.”

The guy chuckles and picks up a loaded tray. “Well, you two will have to get to work on your friend then.”

I feel kind of embarrassed, but Jenny just laughs. “It's okay that you two are Christians,” she says somewhat patronizingly, “we can still be friends.”

Well, I suppose that's a start.

After church today, Beanie and Andrea and I went to the mall. And while we were getting a snack, Beanie ups
and says, “I think Jenny Lambert is anorexic.”

Now let me tell you, I'm already getting pretty defensive when it comes to Jenny, but this comment totally throws me for a loop. “What are you talking about?” I ask incredulously.

“I just think she is.”

“Beanie, I thought you were starting to like her–”

“This has nothing to do with that,” she declares as Andrea watches with curious interest.

“But why are you saying that?” I just roll my eyes and keep from mentioning anything about how Beanie put on a little weight with her pregnancy, which still hasn't come off. “Is it just because Jenny's thin?”

“No, it's more than that. Open your eyes, Cate.”

Now I'm trying not to be offended. “Beanie, you're a Christian, and you know we're not supposed to judge others. But here you go, coming down on Jenny again. I don't think it's right.”

“Yeah,” agrees Andrea, who's never even met Jenny.

Beanie holds up her hands defensively. “Look,” she begins in a softer tone. “The only reason I'm mentioning it at all is because I'm concerned. And I think you've one of her best friends now, Cate. I just thought you should be aware is all.”

“Aware of what?” I snap.

“That she could have anorexia nervosa, a condition that commonly affects teenage girls who–”

“Enough!” I slam my soda cup down. “I don't need a textbook explanation on anorexia, Beanie, I
know
what it
is. Good grief, I've even been accused of having it myself, which is totally ridiculous.”

“Sorry, but you were acting so dense, I wasn't sure.”

Now to my relief, Andrea breaks in. “So, Beanie, tell us why you're so sure that Jenny is anorexic.”

“Well, first of all, have you ever seen her eat anything?”

I considered this. I mean, I've shared lots of meals with Jenny. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I'd ever actually seen her consume a piece of food. She'd fiddle with food and talk and joke a lot. “I've seen her drink soda,” I offer.

“Yeah,” agrees Beanie. “Diet soda.”

“Lots of people drink diet soda.”

“I do,” says Andrea helpfully.

“Yeah, but you're having a giant pretzel with it. Jenny doesn't eat real food.”

“That's crazy.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Jenny's a perfectly normal girl. She's not anorexic.”

“Well, I didn't expect you to believe me,” says Beanie, clearly dismayed.

“It's not that I don't,” I say. “But I think you're being too hard on her.”

She shrugs. “I just thought since you're her friend, you might want to keep your eyes open, just in case you can be of any help.”

“Okay,” I say with reluctance. “I'll keep this in mind.”

Now Beanie's planted this seed of suspicion in my head against Jenny, and I suppose for the next few days
I'll be watching her to make sure that she's eating right. Oh, brother!

Okay, now I'm thinking
Beanie is right on target about Jenny. I've watched her closely for two days and haven't seen her consume a single bite of food. Oh, she's very clever about it, never draws attention to the fact she's not eating, and even makes comments about the food. But I'm afraid Beanie's right–Jenny's not eating. And today the three of us were sitting outside enjoying the last days of summer (actually it's fall, but the weather is still good) and I noticed that Jenny's not just thin, she's skinny as a stick. I even mentioned it and she just said, “No way, you're the one who's skinny, Caitlin.” I tried to show her that she was lots skinnier, but she just kept laughing and denying it. Beanie gave me a look that said, see. And I didn't know what to do. Now I feel pretty worried about Jenny. I mean, people can die from anorexia, and the worst part is they have a real tough time admitting that they have it. I've heard stories where girls are nothing but skin and bones but still see themselves as fat. I don't want that to happen to
Jenny. But I don't know what to say or do.