Girls Only! (18 page)

“Yeah,” said Livvy softly.

Heather did not reveal the first thing out of Kevin’s mouth after they’d fallen. She would say nothing about it—she could just hear her girl friends laugh. They were always telling her how thin she was, and she didn’t want them thinking less of Kevin because of his comment about her weight.

Jenna called the meeting to order, then Heather read the minutes from last week’s meeting. “Any corrections or additions?” she asked.

“Sounds fine to me,” Manda said, sitting across the table.

“Me too,” said Livvy.

“What new business do we have to discuss?” Jenna asked.

“I propose a craft project,” Livvy said, her face growing a bit pink as soon as she spoke up.

“You mean like
making
something . . . with our
hands?
” Manda asked. She looked horrified.

“Sure.” Livvy nodded. “To raise money for our club.”

Jenna jumped on the idea. “We could use some extra cash, you know, for costumes and things . . . when we put on ballet presentations for our families.”

“I like the idea,” Heather said. “But what’ll we make?”

“My mom’s a little over the edge about birdhouses,” Manda said. “Maybe we could get some old wood somewhere and make some, then paint them real cute.”

“Yeah, that’s a possibility,” Livvy agreed. But Heather could tell she wasn’t overly wild about the idea. No one else seemed to be, either. “What about collecting recipes . . . healthy ones, for the athletically inclined?” suggested Livvy.

“Hey, great idea,” Heather said.

Manda, too, was swayed by either their enthusiasm or the fact that she truly enjoyed creating healthy foods and drinks.

“So should we vote on doing a cookbook?” Jenna asked, with a flick of her dark brown hair.

The girls agreed. The vote was unanimous.

Jenna asked Livvy to coordinate the recipes, since the project had been her idea. “How much for our club cookbook?” asked Heather.

“Is five bucks too much?” asked Manda.

“I could run them off on my dad’s computer printer,” Livvy volunteered, “so it shouldn’t cost us too much for production.”

“Five dollars seems just right to me,” Jenna said.

They voted. Five bucks it was. They also discussed sectioning off the book by recipes for specific times: After Training, Before Training, and High-Energy Snacks.

“This is a cool idea,” Jenna said.

“Sure is,” Heather said, wishing she’d thought of it.

Livvy smiled, quiet as usual. But Heather could see that her auburn-haired friend was very pleased.

“When do we start?” asked Manda.

“Tonight,” Heather said. “That’ll give me something to do while I’m waiting for my bum knee to mend.”

The meeting was adjourned. Heather’s mom emerged from the living room when they called to her. Serving up frozen vanilla yogurt with juicy red strawberries, Mom hummed as she worked.

“Thanks for letting us have our meeting here,” Heather told her.

Mom glanced up, smiling. “Any time.”

Manda whispered, “Let’s tell your mom about our cookbook idea.”

“Yeah, see what she says,” Jenna said.

Heather filled her mother in on the fund-raising idea. “We’ll take our finished product around to neighbors, family, and friends. So . . . what do you think?”

Mom was all for it. “I have a bunch of recipes to donate, if you’d like.”

“Thanks!” Livvy said, bursting with delight.

The girls giggled at Livvy’s enthusiasm. “Looks like
all
of us are on board with this,” Jenna said.

Heather could see that it was true.

After the girls left, Heather helped her mom clean up the kitchen as best as she could with her hurt knee. “You have some terrific friends,” Mom said as they wiped the table clean.

Heather thought how glad she was to have solid Christian girl friends. “And we’re all on track for the Olympics. Isn’t that the coolest thing?”

Mom nodded. “First, we’ve got to get your knee back to normal.”

“Don’t I know it.” Heather sat down again, rubbing her kneecap. “I still can’t believe Kevin and I fell like that.”

Mom said no more, but busied herself with preparing supper. Heather hobbled upstairs to her room. She had intended to begin gathering a few recipes for the Girls Only cookbook, but weariness overtook her. She fell onto her bed, thinking she’d rest for a few minutes.

Soon, she was dreaming, flying in the air while Kevin sped on the ice. Heather felt so free, so limber . . . so high above the rink. But then Kevin dropped her flat on the ice, awakening her.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Joanne standing over her. “Uh . . . what’s going on?” she asked, sitting up.

“Supper’s ready, sleepyhead,” came the little-girl reply.

“So soon?”

“Mom says you’ve been out for almost an hour.”

An hour?

“Better come to the table,” Joanne said, “so the food won’t get cold.”

She massaged her knee, feeling slightly dizzy as she moved toward the edge of the bed. “I’ll be right down.”

“Don’t fall on the stairs,” Joanne warned.

“Don’t worry.” Then she remembered something. “Oh, Joanne . . . have you been, uh, in my room?”

“Nope.”

“Reading my devotional book, maybe?”

“Nope.”

“You’re sure?”

“I don’t tell lies,” Joanne insisted, wide-eyed.

“I didn’t say you did,” she replied, even though her sister had already dashed out of the room.

At supper, Dad prayed exceptionally long, blessing the food and asking the Lord “to bring strength and healing to my daughter’s knee.” There was some talk about the club recipe book, and Dad promised to purchase several copies. “I’ll take them to the office and sell them there when they’re finished.”

“Really? You’d do that for the club?” Heather said, surprised her father was so interested.

Dad chuckled. “We have two secretaries who could use some trimming down. So sure. It’ll help the cause.”

Mom nodded. “Might just help someone feel healthier, too.”

Kevin glared at Heather just then. His intense glower made her wonder. What was he trying to say? Surely not that he thought
she
needed to go on a diet!

Photo Perfect

Chapter Four

After supper, Heather got busy at the computer, going online to check through various sites featuring recipes. She decided the High-Energy Snacks section of the Girls Only cookbook might be her biggest interest.

Maybe if Kevin had eaten something like that, I wouldn’t have fallen
. . . .

But she knew better. Anyone can fall on the ice. Energy or no energy. She’d have to forgive him, sooner or later.

Meanwhile, she printed off three different copyright-free on-line recipes: Bars of Iron with raisins, dark molasses, oats, and ginger; Powdered Milk Energy Bars; and Oat Bars with sesame seeds, dried apricots, and chopped almonds. Power food for sure. Livvy would be pleased.

By Monday, Heather’s knee was much improved. Enough for her to skate freely around the rink. Coach McDonald was obviously pleased, but he didn’t push for any lifts or jumps. And Kevin kept his mouth shut about further insults.
He better
, she thought.

After practice, when they’d arrived home, Heather noticed a mailer lying on the coffee table in the living room. “What’s this?” she asked Kevin as he hung up his jacket.

“Looks like overnight mail.” He came close and looked over her shoulder.

Mom had gone to the kitchen, so Heather called to her, asking if they could open the envelope. “Go ahead,” Mom said. “It’s probably the new pictures.”

Heather felt her pulse quicken. Recently, Mom and Dad had hired a professional photographer from Denver. He’d met them several weeks ago, taking numerous rolls of film “to get a few good ones,” the photographer had said.

“How do you think they turned out?” she asked her brother.

“Open it and see,” Kevin said.

Tearing the envelope open, she discovered the proofs of her and Kevin. Dressed in ivory with dazzling Austrian sequins, they posed happily, taking bows. The shots had been taken at the finale of their two-minute original dance in Colorado Springs, at the World Arena. Every other weekend, they practiced there when they could get ice time.

One after another, Heather studied the pictures. “What do you think of them?” she asked Kevin.

“Cool,” was all he said.

“But do you
like
them?”

“Yep. Don’t you?”

She wasn’t sure. Not exactly. In fact, the more she looked at them, scrutinizing every inch of each photo, the more she second-guessed the poses—the way the photographer had captured their “look.”

“We don’t look enough alike,” she said softly.

Kevin squinted at the proofs. “I don’t get it,” he replied. “What’s wrong?”

Their coach had trained them to move, breathe, and nearly think alike. On the ice, at least. When they skated in competition, or any event, for that matter, they always wore matching costumes, just like other ice-dancing partners. But these glitzy white costumes in the photos didn’t offer the mirror image Heather had imagined. No, the long pants and double-breasted coat made Kevin look taller . . .
thinner
. Her outfit had been fashioned out of the same fabric, but the skirt, she decided as she inspected the picture, was too short. Showed too much of her leg.

She heard Kevin mutter something about being hungry. He headed off to the kitchen, probably to grab a quick snack before school started. Meanwhile, she took the pictures over to the bay window and sat in the overstuffed chair. Holding them up to the window, she stared at the poses. Slowly, she sifted through the pictures.

I hate these
, she thought. But it wasn’t the pictures she despised. It was the reflection of herself in the camera that bugged her.

“Am I getting fat?” she asked Manda that afternoon on the phone.

Manda laughed. “You can’t be serious.”

“Come on, Manda,” she insisted. If she wasn’t serious, she wouldn’t be asking her friend’s opinion. “I’m not joking here. I want your honest opinion.”

“Are you deaf? I
gave
you my honest opinion, girl. No way are you fat.”

“Not even a little?”

Manda sighed into the phone. “Well, if you are, then it’s invisible . . . or in your head.”

“So, I’m a fathead?”

That got a laugh.

Heather continued. “Maybe you should take a look at these new pics that just arrived at my house.”

“Of you?”

“Yeah, they’re of Kevin and me.” She propped the phone against her chin and shoulder as she slid the photos back into the large envelope. “Except my brother looks so tall and slender.”

Like I used to
, she thought.

“You’re stick thin, Heather, and I’m not kidding.”

She wished she could believe her friend. “Guess you’ll just have to see the pics,” she said. “Then decide.”

“Bring them to ballet in an hour. Jenna, Livvy, and I will give you our honest opinion . . . that is, if we see the least hint of flab.”

They said good-bye, and Heather hung up the phone.

At Natalie Johnston’s ballet class, Heather worked extra hard during centerwork. And later, during pointe technique, she felt downright gloomy. Jenna and Livvy must’ve picked up on her mood, and during the break, when they stood around with small cartons of carrot juice and apple juice, Heather bought nothing to either drink or snack.

“Are you feeling all right?” asked Jenna.

“Uh-huh,” she said.

“Want me to get you something?” Livvy offered.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“So what’s with you today?” Jenna asked, grabbing a handful of carrot sticks.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just seem so . . . uh, I don’t know.” Jenna crunched her carrots loudly.

“Out of it?” she said. “Not myself?”

Jenna eyed her without saying more.

Livvy came over and stood beside her. “Is training getting to you?”

She wondered if she should tell them what was bothering her. But no, like Manda, they’d probably just laugh. Wouldn’t understand that she’d begun to feel as fat as the pictures looked. As heavy as Kevin had said she was the day of their fall.

“Maybe you’re tired,” suggested Jenna. “Is that it?”

“I got some photos back from Denver,” she began.

“Oh yeah, those,” Jenna said. “Manda said you were bringing them to show us.”

She wondered if Manda had also gone to the trouble of revealing what was troubling Heather. “Where’s Manda, anyway?”

They turned to see their friend talking with Natalie near the piano. “Looks like she’s tied up right now,” said Livvy.

Heather cringed. She hoped Manda hadn’t told Jenna and Livvy what she’d shared on the phone. For now, wanting to whittle down her figure was just
her
business.

It turned out the girls didn’t stick around after ballet, as they often did. So Heather carried the envelope of photos home with her without ever showing them to her friends.

Just as well
, she decided.

She didn’t let on to her mother that she thought several of the photos made her look a little chunky.
Might just be the camera angle
, she thought.
Photos always make people look bigger
.

Mom seemed almost too excited about the portfolio photos. She talked of nothing else at supper. Even took the pictures out and held them up as she stood at the foot of the table, opposite Dad. “Have you ever seen such great photos of
any
ice dancers?” she gushed to all of them. “Let alone
our
own children?”

Dad, too, seemed impressed, asking to see the pictures more closely. Mom and Dad, their heads together, made a big to-do about the shots. “We’ll definitely use this photographer again, won’t we, dear?” Dad said, his face bright with satisfaction.

Mom rested her hand on Dad’s shoulder and beamed. “We couldn’t be more proud of you both,” she told Heather and Kevin.

Joanne and Tommy seemed interested, but only for a short time. After a while, they were more interested in knowing when and where dessert was than poring over photos of their older siblings.

“I’m gonna be as strong as Kevin when I grow up,” Tommy said, squirming.