Catching His Eye. Jo Leigh

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СКАЧАТЬ God.

      It wasn’t that she was hideous. It was that she was so plain. Nondescript brown hair. Eyes that were a dull shade of brown. Of course, the double chin did wonders for her face. The rest of her? Five feet four inches short and damn near one hundred and sixty. She wanted to cry.

      Instead, she banished her own image from her memory and climbed into the shower. Washing occupied her mind for a while, but if she didn’t cool it she’d have no skin left. She stopped her feverish scrubbing and surrendered to the water. With closed eyes, she relaxed her shoulders, unclenched her hands.

      They thought they could make her over. Transform her like Cinderella the night of the ball. But she knew better. She didn’t have what it took to be beautiful. Even if she lost all the weight and got new makeup and clothes, she’d still be plain old Emily Proctor. And Emily Proctor didn’t get to have Scott Dillon.

      So why bother?

      She held her breath for a moment, steadied herself with a hand on the cold wall. For the first time ever, she actually realized what she’d just said.

      Why bother? If she couldn’t have Scott Dillon, why bother? Oh, God. She was the one who was insane, not her friends. What kind of a life choice was that? Wasn’t she worth bothering for? Just for being here? For being her?

      No. The answer to that had been no her whole life. Because she couldn’t be as pretty as Julia, or as stylish and witty as Hope or as classy as Sam or as brilliant as Zoey, or as brave as Lily, she’d thrown in the towel on her own life.

      Coward! That’s what she was. A big, yellow coward. Hiding out in the only place she’d ever lived, sneaking pieces of chocolate instead of feasting at the banquet of life.

      She’d lost the game before it had begun.

      So what if she’d never get Scott Dillon. If she didn’t do something about her life, she’d never be Emily Proctor. Not the Emily Proctor she was supposed to be.

      At twenty-six, she had no idea who that was supposed to be. High school teacher? Yes, but that shouldn’t be all of who she was. Drama teacher? Again, that wasn’t enough. Friend. Yes. Yes, that one was very important. Daughter? Of course. But every definition she came up with was about something outside of herself.

      Who was she? Right now, standing naked in the shower at the Sheridan Holiday Inn?

      Tears welled only to be washed away, leaving no trace. Her fate would too, if she didn’t do something about it.

      And the something closest at hand was as Hope put it, the Scott Dillon Diet, Exercise and Beauty Regimen. With emotional, physical and spiritual help from The Girlfriends.

      It would mean no more French fries in the car. No more ice cream in the middle of the night. It would mean exercising, and sticking to it even when it was uncomfortable. She’d actually have to acknowledge her body, her lifestyle, her loneliness.

      Something funny happened in her stomach. Fear, but not just fear. Excitement. That was it. She actually felt excited.

      Maybe she couldn’t have Scott, but she could have a life. And maybe, if she learned to respect and love herself, she’d be ready to have someone else love her, too.

      She turned off the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack. This was it. Her last chance to change her mind. If she told the gang she was in, they’d never let her alone about it. They were nothing if not persistent.

      Stepping out onto the bath mat, she looked at the mirror, but all she saw was fog. Moving closer, she rubbed out a large clear circle. It was time to say goodbye. To all the old comforts. To the familiar pain.

      She waved, and then the fog crept back and she wasn’t there anymore.

      Chapter Two

      The lunch bell rang, and twenty-one copies of Romeo and Juliet slammed shut at the same time. It was no use going on. Her fourth-period senior English class had already gone to lunch, even though they waited, albeit impatiently, for her to give the homework assignment and excuse them.

      “Read pages eighteen through thirty, and write two pages about the relationship between the Montegues and the Capulets.”

      A collective groan almost obscured the scraping of chairs as her students rushed to escape. But today Emily didn’t care. She had her own agenda.

      Day four of the regimen had started out badly. Because she was a fool, she’d started her exercise program with far too much vigor, and her muscles, particularly her leg muscles, were proving her folly.

      She winced as she erased the blackboard, cursing her own stupidity. Why had she ever agreed to this cockamamy scheme? It was dumb, it hurt, and she didn’t want to play anymore.

      She wouldn’t tell the others, though. Not yet. There was plenty of time to disappoint her friends.

      And herself.

      Damn. There went a perfectly good opportunity to quit. Now she’d have to eat her salad with balsamic vinegar dressing, no oil. She’d have to drink her eight ounces of water. She’d have to keep her word.

      But she didn’t have to like it.

      It took her ten minutes to gather her things and straighten up the classroom. Unfortunately, she had papers, lots of them, to correct. But after lunch, she had drama, and she didn’t want to lug her things around. Since the auditorium was right there at the parking lot she’d put her stuff in the car, and after sixth period, she’d be out of here.

      By the time she’d picked up everything she needed, her arms were full and her muscles protested in a most vivid way. But she went into the hall, lined with lockers and kids and banners announcing the upcoming football game. She put all her things down so she could lock the door, then picked them up again. She headed toward the door, the parking lot, wondering if she was too young to use Ben-Gay.

      She heard the accident seconds before it even happened. Tennis shoes slapped the linoleum. Rushed at her like a freight train. But it was too late to get out of the way and she squeezed her eyes shut as she was hit broadside.

      Her book bag flew out of her hands. She struggled to keep her balance, but there was no way. She fell hard, landing on her right hip.

      The kid, someone she didn’t recognize, didn’t even stop to say he was sorry. He just ran like hell to the end of the hall, and exited, stage right.

      Gretchen Foley stared at her from in front of her locker. “Are you all right, Ms. Proctor?”

      “Yes, Gretchen. I’m fine.”

      “Should I go get the nurse or something?”

      “That won’t be necessary.”

      Gretchen nodded and headed toward the cafeteria. She didn’t even bother to pick up a single piece of paper. What was it with kids today? Had they all been raised by wolves?

      Just then, a masculine hand came out of nowhere, extended in front of her. She sighed, glad that at least one student on campus had some manners.

      She looked up at her Lochinvar, and her СКАЧАТЬ