Body Image Meeting -- Brad
I woke up on Sunday morning. Mal's arm was draped across my face. Erin's leg was resting on my stomach. Connor lying across my legs, his hand in Erin's mouth. James was lying across all of our middles, his toes digging into my neck. Casey was just sleeping soundly next to Mal, not touching anyone, not draped across anyone's anything, nothing in anyone's mouths or necks.
But Tristan. Damn. Tristan's arms were wrapped around me safe and tight. His legs were tangled up with mine. His head was nuzzled into my neck. His soft hair caressed my cheek each time his head moved. His soft snores filled my ears, but they weren't annoying. They were actually a bit adorable. I noticed my arms were wrapped tight around him as well. I smiled fondly at our position and wondered if there was any chance I could wake up like this again.
I felt my smile go away as soon as the thought crosses my mind, knowing it's never going to happen.
"Take a picture. It'll last longer," he mumbles into my chest, nuzzling his head even further into my neck.
"Pictures aren't as good as the real thing, you know," I mumbled back.
"Let's go make waffles." His head shot up and he looked up with a twinkle in his eyes. "Mal loves my waffles."
I smiled, and we began to try to untangle ourselves from everyone else.
"Thank God. James' toes are just painful beings."
We laughed and walked into the kitchen, getting out everything we'd need for the waffles.
"Do you know how to make waffles, or do I get to play teacher?" he asked with a slight smirk.
"I get to play student," I replied with a smile.
He smiled back and started adding the stuff in, me watching over his shoulder and trying to pay attention to what he was saying.
(>^-^)> <(^-^<)
"Anybody have the time?" I hear Casey ask across the table.
"2:30!" Mal shouts back.
I panicked. "Oh shit!" I screamed out loud. "Shit, shit, shit!" I began pacing around the room, looking for my things. I pulled on my shoes and jacket, checking my pockets for my Walkman and headphones.
"Brad what's wrong?" Tris asked with a concerned look on his face.
"Mal, can I borrow your skateboard? I can't guarantee it'll get back to you in one piece, but I need to get home fast," I pleaded, completely ignoring everyone's questions. I was overwhelmed and frightened. My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty. I could feel my curls starting to stick to my face. I could feel tears forming in my eyes.
"I could have Luke drive you, if that's better? He could drop you off a couple blocks away, and you could run the rest of the way there? He's taking Connor and James anyway. He can just take you first?" Mal answered.
I nodded and ran outside, very impatiently waiting on everyone else.
(^-^)
The car ride was awkward. The Arctic Monkeys played on the stereo and I was the only person that knew the song.
As soon as Luke was about four blocks from my home, I told him to stop the car and ran out. I waved bye to all of them and took off down the street, trying to get home before he realized I was gone.
I opened the door to find him standing there with a bottle in one hand and a pissed off look on his face.
"Where the hell have you been?" He was screaming. He was shaking. "I was waiting for you all night and you never came back home! Care to explain why you broke my rules!" He was pissed.
"Look, Dad, I went to the park yesterday morning so I wouldn't bother you before you had to wake up for work and some friends of mine showed up and I went to their house for a bit and then I ended up spending the night because we lost track of time and then I woke up just at 2:00 and I ran here as fast as I could."
He grunted and nodded, pushing past me to get to his room. "Don't do it again," he grumbled before locking himself up.
He bought it. I'm safe for now.
(•-•)
Monday.
Monday was good.
I kept staring at the back of Tristan's head in maths. I could still feel the tingles I got on my cheek where his head would swift across it when he moved his head on Sunday morning. I could still feel his body wrapped up in mine.
Tristan and Mal asked me to sit with them at lunch. I said no at first, not wanting to take someone's spot. They said that Vikki wouldn't be there, so there was an extra spot available at the table anyway. So I sat with them.
It was pretty nice to actually eat lunch with other people to talk to.
At the end of the day, I went home and my dad was already home. But he left me alone again. It made me nervous, but I'll take what I can get.
Tuesday.
Tuesday was pretty fine as well.
I got round to Chemistry for third lesson and took my seat all alone in the back. I thought I was alone.
"Hey," Tristan murmured as he sat down next to me with heaps of books and notes and pens and pencils practically pouring out of his backpack. I was confused.
"Hey," I whispered, not knowing what to make of this.
"I asked to switch. I think it'll be better for us so that were more comfortable with story time on Fridays," he replied with a smile.
I smiled at him and ducked my head, a small smile on his face, his eyes not leaving me once until the teacher gets in.
Wednesday.
"You're doing it all wrong," Tris groaned as I poured yet another vial of the incorrect chemicals into our experiment.
"I'm sorry," I squeaked, nervous and awkward because of how close Tris was standing. I could hug him. If I just moved my arm a little, I'd be holding him again, like I've wished to, no, longed to, since Sunday.
He wrapped one arm around me and gave me a squeeze. I was shocked. "It's okay. I should have been watching you. It's my fault."
I closed my eyes and relished in the feeling of Tris' arm around me.
Thursday.
"You worthless piece of shit!" he screamed as I walked into my house. "Where have you been? You are two hours late!"
I was not. I was actually home earlier than I usually am. Not telling him that. "Sorry, Dad. My chem-"
"Shut up!" he screamed.
I sighed internally and stood, waiting for it to come.
(•.•)
I crawled into my bed, screaming internally at how painful it was to exist right now.
It was always the same. It never changes. He never changes. But tonight, he broke half the rules and changed all the others.
He hit me harder than ever. He kicked me. He threw me around. I hit my head on a table a few times. There was just so much yelling. It's weird, I know, but the yelling got to me more than the beatings. I just couldn't stand being yelled at. I never could.
I just layed in the bed, thinking about what Tristan would do if he were here. I figured he would try to comfort me first. He'd probably hold me close and tell me that nothing my dad would say was true. He would probably tell me it was all going to be okay. He'd probably continue like that until I fell asleep. While I slept, he would probably take my shirt off and start cleaning everything so he wouldn't hurt me while I was awake. He would be careful not to wake me up. He would keep my curls out of my face. He would stay awake all night to make sure nothing happened to me, checking my pulse every couple of minutes, or keeping my hand in his so he could always feel it. He would be careful and kind. He would never leave my side.
I grabbed my phone and sent a quick text to Mal, letting her know what had happened.
I fell asleep after hours, tired and sad, but, most importantly, I was all alone.
Friday. The meeting.
I walked into school on Friday, sore and achy. My legs felt like jelly and my arms felt like dead weights. My head was pounding and my sides were in bad shape. I was constantly feeling jabs of pain every time I moved. It was safe to say my everything hurt.
"Hey, Brad," Tristan greeted me with a smile when I'd gotten to my locker. I didn't smile back.
I pushed him over just a bit so I could open my locker and shoved my notebook inside, slamming it shut once it was in.
"What do you want, Tris?"
"I wanted to talk to you before classes start. We don't sit in the correct seats in first class for us to talk, so I figured I'd get it in now."
"But we have third class together," I sighed, exasperated to no end with him. I couldn't deal with it today.
"But I like talking to you," he mumbled. It made a small smile creep up onto my face.
"Do you like The 1975?" I asked.
"Yeah. I really like City. And Pressure. Menswear is okay and I'll listen to it, but I think Sex is better. Not a popular opinion," he said with a smile, probably thrilled that I want to talk to him.
"Well, M.O.N.E.Y. is pretty good. I mean, it's no Heart Out, but it's better than Robbers," I replied, happy to have someone who likes The 1975 to talk to about these things.
"Oh, definitely. My sister, Millie, loves Is There Somebody Who Can Watch You, and I just laughed when she said that. It's good and all, but she hates Girls, and Girls is amazing. How could anyone not like Girls?"
"I know! My sister, Nat, thinks that Fallingforyou is their best song."
"How could anyone like Fallingforyou more than Antichrist? It's impossible!"
I smiled at his enthusiasm, happy to see that he's some fake like I'd always thought. He was real, and he was amazing. It made me like him more.
We began walking down the hallway when the bell rang, debating the new album with the debut. I liked the debut album, but he thought the new one was better.
Mal smiled at me as I passed her seat to get to mine, effectively ending my conversation with Tris, but I still kept my eyes glued to the back of his head.
<(^~^<) (>^~^)>
I walked as fast as I could without hurting myself to chemistry, anxious to see Tris and ask if he likes Arctic Monkeys. I needed to know just how amazing he was.
"Brad, hey, I was wondering if you liked Arctic Monkeys?" he asked as I sat down beside him.
I gaped at him, completely shook, 1000% taken off guard by the question. "Seriously? You like Arctic Monkeys?"
"Yeah. Do you not?" He gave me a look like he was a bit disappointed. He was hoping I'd like them.
"Oh my gosh, yes, of course. They're my favourite band. I was going to ask you the same question when you got here!"
"Thank goodness, I thought I was going to have to hate you," he replied with a smile. I smiled back.
The bell rang, and we got started on our work.
(^~^) <(^-^<)
I walked to lunch with Mal by my side, bubbly and babbling as she always is.
I've been sitting with Mal, Tristan, Casey, and her brothers all week. I can see Vikki glare at me from her seat with the rest of the swimming team, which have started to think they're better than the other teams because they're captain eats lunch with them.
I like sitting with them. It's comfortable. Luke likes to like my face, and Harry likes to mess with my curls so they'll look different from his. There are two empty spots at the table, so I decided to ask what's been on my mind all week.
"Mal?" I asked hesitantly.
"Yes, Bradwee?" she asked with a smile.
"Can Connor and James sit with us today? I know James and Tristan and Casey don't mix well, but they both sit at different tables, all alone. I don't like that."
"I think that's a great idea."
The first thing we did when we got to the cafeteria was split up. I took James and Mal took Connor.
"Hey, James," I said with a smile as I approached him at his table.
"Hey, Brad!" He returned my smile and motioned with his hand an offer for me to join him.
"No, actually, I was wondering you wanted to come sit with us?"
"Who's 'us'?"
"Me, Mal, Casey, Harry, Luke, Tristan, and maybe Connor."
His eyes lit up at Connor's name, and I could tell his answer was irrevocably yes.
He nodded his head and scooped up his stuff to come sit with me.
Connor was sitting, curled up to Mal, looking a bit uncomfortable, but he smiled when he saw James walking over with me. I took the spot between Mal and Tris, and James sat down between Connor and Luke.
I could see Tris get a bit uncomfortable with James around, so I put my hand over his under the table and squeezed, causing him to smile, but I pulled my hand away almost immediately because it hurt my arm.
"You okay?" he whispered in my ear, referring to how quickly I'd removed my hand.
"Yeah. Just a sore arm," I whispered back. He didn't seem convinced, but nodded anyway.
He put his hand back over mine, and I could feel my heartbeat quicken and my breath hitch. It always happens when I'm around him.
I looked over at Mal to see her smirking at me, and I felt myself blush. I looked down and started eating.
"How are you feeling? Any better?" she whispered in my ear.
"I'll be fine."
"But how are you right now?"
"It hurts. Everything hurts, Mal," I whispered.
She smiled and lightly wrapped an arm around my back, squeezing gently so she wouldn't hurt me any more than I already was.
Mal's siblings began a conversation about sports, while Mal, James, and Connor discussed Taylor Swift's latest breakup.
"Why'd U Only Call Me When You're High? is too overplayed," Tris mumbled.
"Yeah. I wish Arabella was more popular."
"It's in their top five most popular songs on Spotify, Brad."
"What's Spotify?" I asked.
"It's an app for your phone. You make an account and you can listen to any song you want. Sort of. You have to add songs to your library, and if you have Premium you can listen to any song at any time off shuffle. If you don't, you have to push the shuffle button and listen to whatever it plays. You get to skip like six songs every hour."
I just smiled and looked down, my hand becoming sweaty under Tris'.
(•~•)
I walked slowly to the music room, not really wanting to be in there.
I stepped through the door to see everyone in the same spot as last week, waiting for me. "I'm here."
"Good," Mal said with a smile.
I sat down beside Tris on the piano, his hand instantly grabbing hold of mine, just like at lunch.
"So, I had originally planned on having you guys take your shirts off, but then I decided not to do that because I can't take mine off so that's unfair to you guys, and also you guys would be uncomfortable so..." She looked at me. "That idea was scrapped."
I could tell she only scrapped it because she knows I don't want the rest of them knowing what my dad does. I smiled at her.
"Pull out your notebooks. Read em out loud. James first."
James went, and I could feel my heart shatter when he said he didn't like his legs. His legs are great. They're basically goals af. They're like the male version of Carrie Underwood's legs.
Connor went next. I wasn't surprised when Connor said he didn't like anything. Connor is very self-conscious and modest and insecure and he just can't see how beautiful he is. Connor is very good looking. I mean, Erin said he was the hottest. I could see the tears starting to form in James' eyes when Connor said that. I looked at James, and once he made eye contact, I motioned to Connor with my head, trying to signal James to try and comfort him.
He got the message and wrapped an arm around Connor. They stayed like that.
Tristan went next. I wasn't surprised he liked everything. But I was upset that he didn't like his hair. I liked his hair. It was really nice. I loved how he'd always style it differently every couple of days. I really liked it.
I was up. I could see Tris smile when I said I liked my hair, but frown when I said I didn't like anything else.
"Guess it's my turn," Mal said with a slight frown.
"Dear Diary,
The topic is body image.
I used to like my legs. They're long, so I'm tall, so I'm good at basketball. I used to like my arms. I could shoot baskets with them. I never missed. I used to like my face. It's symmetrical. I used to like everything.
I don't like my arms. I hate to show them. I always wear jumpers because I don't like people seeing my arms. On the rare occasion I wear tank tops, I always wear a million brackets, or my long black gloves so no one can see my arms. I don't like my legs. My calves are too skinny and my thighs are too fat. I always wear jeans so no one can see them. Sometimes I wear long skirts or dresses, but not often. I feel fat sometimes. Not always, but sometimes. I do today. I feel bad because I know I'm not, I just feel like it. Maybe I listened even though I say I didn't.
I like my hair. It's really long, so it covers up my back when I want to wear a shirt with the back cut out. School dress codes are stupid. Let's get rid of them. It's also blue. Blue is my favourite colour. Everyone says my hair is stupid because it's blue. No one really seems to like it. But I do. I'm pretty sure that's what matters.
~Mal"
I stepped up and gave Mal a big hug, my hand slipping from Tris'. Mal was beat down just like I am. Someone always told her all the things they hated about how she looked, things she was proud of, and it stuck. If she wasn't good enough for them, she wasn't good enough for anyone. I feel that way, too. All the time.
Mal stepped away after a minute, thanking me, and I went back to sitting next to Tris. When his hand didn't take mine immediately, I looked over at him to see him looking down at his feet. He didn't know I was sitting next to him. I smiled and slowly took his head in mine. His fingers curled up and entwined with mine. It was relaxing.
"Connor?"
He looked up at Mal, a slight frown on his face. "Yes?"
"Why don't you like your fluffy hair?"
"Well, it's just..."
James squeezed him a little tighter, letting him know it's okay to let us all know what's wrong.
"No one else has fluffy hair. I guess I don't like it because it gives everyone another reason not to like me."
"But no one had a reason not to like you before," Tristan said, as if he was hurt that Connor thinks people don't like him. People don't, but that's just because he's- "Just because your brother outed you doesn't mean that they have ever had a reason not to like you."
"But-"
"No, Connor. Tris is right. If it helps you feel any more comfortable," I got up and crouched down beside Connor so I could whisper in his ear, "I am too." I got up and sat back down beside Tris. "Any more comfortable?"
"I am, actually. Really?"
"Yeah."
Mal smiled at me, knowing what I'd told Connor.
"What did you tell him?" Tris whispered in my ear.
"A secret," I whispered back.
"Tris, why don't you like your hair?" Mal asked.
"Oh. I guess I just..." I squeezed his hand as he trailed off, trying to encourage him to keep going. He ran a hand through his hair and continued. "I just don't like it. It feels awkward. That's why I'm always doing different things to it. I'm trying to make it feel less awkward. And it's too white. I mean, I guess that's the point of white blonde, but it's too white. It's so white it's basically not even blonde anymore." I gasped inaudibly, not wanting anyone to hear my surprise.
"I love your hair," I said without thinking. Everyone looked at me, so I figured I'd keep going. "I mean, I guess maybe I'm just used to all the people I know having dark hair, so the blonde's a nice change, but I really do love it. It suits you. And it's really soft. I like that."
Tris smiled his wonderful smile and had a slight blush along his cheeks. I wanted to kiss his cheeks to see if it would make them even more red.
"James, why don't you like your legs?" Connor asked, looking at Mal to see if it was okay. She nodded.
"They're too skinny."
"What are you talking about? You're basically the male version of Carrie Underwood with those legs," I spoke.
James looked at me. "You think so?"
"We all do. I mean, dude, you have amazing legs. Like goals af."
Connor giggled and James looked down, embarrassed. "He's right, James. You have great legs. Just like Carrie Underwood."
"Brad, why don't you like your arms? Or your legs? Or your abs?" Tris asked. Mal rolled her eyes at having her thunder stolen for the hundredth time today.
"Well, first of all, I have no abs. Second, my legs are just scrawny and weak. My arms are, too. I'm just small. I'm a tiny little mass of skin and gummy bones."
"Brad, you're not small. You're short, yeah. But not small. You're limbs aren't scrawny and no one cares if you have abs. I'm not joking when I say that the entire soccer team has no abs. And the kids in this school are all over them." Tristan tried to make me feel better, but the only thing that can make me feel better right now is listening to Chocolate by The 1975 because that always makes me feel better. But, it did help a little.
"Mal, why don't you love yourself? You're so beautiful. And Erin obviously loves you, so why don't you love you, too?" James asked Mal.
"I had a person in my life who didn't love me. I loved them, though. I still do. I mean, I can't not love them. No matter what they did or said." I knew she couldn't be talking about her father, so who? Who broke down this beautiful and amazing girl?
"I understand how you feel," I told her.
"No, Brad. It was a different situation. I was treated like a princess until I turned ten. And there was more to it, Brad. There was so much more. Like the ridicule. The torment. I accidentally closed a door before he could enter the room and he ran in and-" She was cut off by her own tears. I jumped off the piano and held her as she wept. "He threw me into the kitchen table. He yanked my hair, told me I was being disrespectful. He told me I was going to ruin everything one day. He told me I was good for nothing. He said that for five years, Brad. Five whole years of being torn apart by him. You should have seen the look on his face when he saw the hair and the nose ring. He wanted to kill me. He tried to kill me, Brad."
"What?" James screamed. "You never said that was why your mum..." He trailed off, not knowing if he should continue. He decided to anyway. "Mal, you never told me he tried to kill you. You said he just went too far and didn't realize it."
Mal stepped out of my arms and turned to James, trying to wipe away her tears. "He told me he was going to kill me, Jem. He promised me. And he threw me into the bookshelf. He banged my head on the tv. He just kept on like that. Throwing me around, heaps of blows to the head. The surgeons said 43 blows to the head. I hit my head on every hard surface of that house at least twice. He just wouldn't stop. I should've died."
"And that's where your mum came in?" he asked her. She nodded and threw her head into his shoulder, crying even more than before.