Chapter 6

Sydney

The moment the lights came back on, everyone turned. And I just stood there, wine dripping from my hair down to my feet with the shattered pieces of the oversized goblet resting at my feet.

I couldn’t move nor breathe properly.

How could I when every eye was on me, staring at how the wine had darkened the orange sweater, soaking it and making it cling to every part of my skin I was already so aware of.

The room was quiet—save for the low music still playing from the speakers, though no one was paying attention.

They just stood there, their eyes tracing every layer of skin I’d tried so hard to hide for years.

Then I heard it—a low chuckle at first.

“Shit,” someone whispered. A door clicked shut from somewhere.

And before I could stop myself, my eyes strayed to the reason my pulse quickened. The one person I didn’t have time to wish a sprained ankle for.

Tyler.

He stood across the room—right in the path everyone had cleared when I backed away.

He wasn’t ogling like the others were, but his eyes were on my face, that crooked smile resting on the corner of his lips.

Then his gaze dragged downward slowly, the way it always did when something was about to come out of his mouth, and then back up.

“Well,” he said lightly, lifting his soda to his lips. “I guess the outfit was thirsty after all.”

Heat flooded my face. My arms flew around my body, and I stumbled backward until my back hit the door.

But for one long second, everyone was silent, like they were letting his words sink.

“Yooo.” Someone chuckled, throwing an arm around Tyler’s shoulders. “Good one.”

Someone laughed.

Then another joined, and then another, till I lost count.

I wanted to evaporate right there, and maybe I’d lose a few pounds. But since I couldn’t—

“Sydney,”

I bolted.

I flung open the front door and ran out of the house, lifting my legs as far as they could go across the lawn and towards the road.

“Sydney, stop!” someone yelled behind me.

But how could I stop? I’ve just had an entire house of teenagers stare at my body through a wine soaked sweater.

And Tyler had made a joke about it. And they’d all laughed.

I didn’t even realize tears were in my eyes until the road blurred in front of me.

“This was a mistake, this was a huge mistake.” I muttered over and over as I made for the road.

Lights flashed from the left, coming down fast as I got closer to the wide tarred road.

But I could cross it before it got too close, right?

I didn’t have to remain at that stupid party that I didn’t even want to go to in the first place, with my stupid heart hoping I’d change the way people looked at me.

My legs agreed completely with me and kept moving, though my mind was screaming and my eyes were staring at the fast approaching car.

One leg touched the road—

Arms yanked me back immediately.

The car zoomed past at the same time, middle finger sticking out the window as it passed by, accompanied by laughter.

I fell backward onto the lawn, scrambling away from the road as fear replaced everything else pounding in my head.

Maeve ran up the road. “Drinking and driving isn’t—oh, fuck it. They’re gone.” She rushed back to me. “Sydney, are you okay?”

For the next few seconds, I focused on my breathing, blinking my way through the fact that I’d almost gotten hit by a car.

Then the cold night air swept over me, reminding me of the sticky sweater clinging to my skin.

Goosebumps crawled up my arms.

Maeve peered into my face, her glittery makeup shining in the lawn lights.

“Sydney?”

“I want to go home.” I blurted.

Her voice went soft. “But Sydney, my driver doesn’t come until midnight.”

“God, who am I kidding?” I let out a sob. “I didn’t even last thirty minutes.”

Maeve wrapped an arm around me. “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not your fault.” I argued, “I could have resisted if I wanted to. But I came out here thinking I could be a part of something. Maybe forget I’m fat Sydney for one night.”

I could feel Maeve’s face fall. “Stop that, Sydney.”

“Am I thirsty, Maeve?” I demanded, my chest tight.

Instead, her gaze snapped to me immediately. “Is this about what Tyler said?”

My stomach did a flip, and I pulled my knee under my chin, avoiding her gaze.

The look on Tyler’s face flashed in my mind once more. Because underneath all the lies I told myself, my stupid heart had looked forward to seeing him tonight.

My thighs had pulled together when I bumped into him.

And for one tiny second, my heart had skipped when his lips moved.

“God, that fu—!” Maeve muttered under her breath. Then she pulled me close. “You’re not thirsty, Sydney. You were dressed up as much as every other girl at the party.”

“That’s not what Brooklyn said.”

“Are you seriously going to listen to what Brooklyn said?” Her voice was sharp. “She was wearing a cheerleader's skirt. What’s more thirsty than that?”

“But she didn’t look like a yoga ball ballerina in it.” A tear spilled down my cheek, and I wiped it away roughly.

God, I hated my body so much.

“Why can’t I be someone else? Someone with less skin who doesn’t look like a whore when she wears something her size?”

I sniffed and stared at the road.

“They were right, Maeve. I don’t belong here.”

“You belong here, Sydney.” She said, “And no one is right about you. Not Brooklyn, not Tyler, alright?”

But everyone had laughed—they’d agreed to what Tyler said.

“Look, everyone in there are pathetic ass lickers alright? I bet they hate themselves more than they’d ever think of hating you.”

“You are one of the realest people out here, Sydney. You’re not going to let stupid comments from a bunch of spoiled kids get to you, are you?”

“What if those stupid comments are true?” My voice croaked.

“They’re not true, Sydney. You’re beautiful, smart. You’re not a yoga ball or whatever. You’re you.”

I turned to Maeve, desperately trying to believe her. She’d been so nice to me for no reason since I stepped into Lakeview high.

But the facts still stung like the skin on my bones—I wasn’t supposed to be here. I took up a lot of space.

Brooklyn was “the better sister”.

And the one night I’d decided to show up, I’d ended up the clown—the joke.

Once again.

And Brooklyn just stood there. She didn’t even care where I’d run off to.

“Come here.” Maeve said, pulling my head to her shoulder, her hand gently patting my hair.

I exhaled shakily against her shoulder. “I want to go home, Maeve.”