Untouchable

Chapter 8: Clamor

Chapter Eight: Clamor

The sunlight poured through my window, streaming sideways as the sun went down. The dust that had collected in my room swirled slightly in the beams of light. I had my curtains as wide open as possible. I couldn't let the light be wasted. If I couldn't sit and soak it in, I would take it anyway possible.

I stood in front of my floor length mirror. I knew what I would see, yet I was still surprised. I had changed. I'd avoided mirrors and pretty much any reflection for the past few months. Now that I finally had the courage to look, the mirror showed me a different Cate.

My hair was longer, past the middle of my back. I hadn't bothered with it in a while, and it had grown.

I skipped past my face. My eyes gave me away. My mom had always told me that—and I didn't want to see what they say, even now.

I stood in my bra and underwear inspecting my body. White, cute, with little bows. It's not like anyone but me would see them. My body had filled out; I was losing my boyish figure. I'd always been on the thin side, but even with all the puking I'd done, I had still gained weight. And in some ways, I didn't mind. I had boobs! Real ones. My hips and thighs were rounder, and I thought I might almost have curves.

But that wasn't what I was seeing. All I could see right then was my belly. I looked down at it every day, but looking in the mirror was different. Looking down from above I looked all flat and smooth, but from the side, I was definitely showing a little bump.

The bump was cute.

I liked my bump.

Then I panicked. I have a bump!

Holy Crap. I could play it off as just getting fat for a little while, but that won't last long. Honestly, I'm such a small person, I was surprised I didn't show more than this. I wondered what Ali would do if she were me. Not that she would ever be in my situation—she was smarter than that. But she always seems to know what to do.

I dismissed the thought. I was getting fat—that's all. If I pretended to believe it, so would others.

Speaking of Ali, she wanted me to wear a bathing suit under my dress to the party, and now looking at my bump…that was so not happening.

I still couldn't believe I had agreed. Stupid friends. Stupid guilt.

When Jack dropped me off earlier Ali had clearly instructed me to be ready at seven o'clock sharp, and to wear my new baby doll blouse. I would just "wear" my bathing suit underneath. Thank goodness baby doll tops were basically maternity shirts. They could hide anything if need be.

Giving myself one last inspection, I pulled on the pre-determined outfit. I even threw on some mascara and a little bit of green eyeliner, hoping to brighten my eyes.

The door bell rang. Dang.

oOoOoOoOoOo

I walked shakily up the driveway of the Doyle's house. Ali must have blown through at least six lights turning from yellow to red claiming that they were "orange" and therefore completely legal. I was just thankful that the car could handle sixty mile-per-hour turns without rolling. It was a wonder she hasn't had a ticket, or mowed over a little old lady crossing the road.

The Doyles' house was huge. Much bigger than Jack's or Ali's. It had a courtyard with a fountain, and manicured grass—they must have a fleet of gardeners just caring for the front yard alone. There were tall palm trees out front, but best of all was the bougainvillea permeating the air. I wonder if I can talk Dad into one of those for our yard.