Crimson Fat

She tapped her pen on the wooden desk, sinking her head into her palm and sighed quietly. School was the most boring, mind-numbing, and pointless activity in the book. She thought about what else she could be doing with her time, like writing or reading a good book. Anything would be better than listening to the teacher talk about ions and chemicals. Who cared about Chemistry? Who used this is real life? Who the hell didn’t have cooks?
Then her mind wandered to cooking and eating. What would be for dinner and would she get out of it tonight? She could tell her parents she was on a diet and she could only eat fruit and vegetables, kind of like a vegan. Who was the person who invented diets, anyways? Diet is a weird word. It has the word die in it.
“Tristan, would you be able to identify an ion like this one?” the teacher, Ms. Wolfe, pointed to the over-head projector and smiled.
Tristan looked up over a wave of her straight dark hair and frowned. She had no idea what was going on, and as usual she had zoned out in class. Despite her preoccupation during class, she had a solid A. The teacher usually never picked on her, but today was a different story and Tristan had no thoughts in her tired brain, so she just shook her head apologetically.
Ms. Wolfe frowned, meaning she probably thought she had an answer, like she always does on her homework. Tristan knew that in person she was far off from anyone’s expectations. Her mind never paid attention to much besides her own problems.
“Hey, Tristan,” someone behind her whispered impatiently. “What are you doing after school?” It was Molly, her best friend, the one person who was supposed to know everything about her and yet she knew nothing. Molly tapped her shoulder with a purple fuzzy pen.
Tristan shrugged. She didn’t have time for another scold from Molly about Josh. All she wanted was to forget about what she did to him and move on. But of course, Molly wasn’t going to let that happen; not under her radar.
“I’ll meet you at your house right after school.” She had already decided the time, of course, and gave Tristan no room for hesitation or disagreement.
She sighed and waited sullenly for the loud contraction to ring, dismissing all students from hell. The time went by at a snails pace, however, and her stomach protested out in loud grumbles that she tried to hide. She hadn’t eaten anything in a few days, and managed to maintain her ninety pound physique. Hopefully, that’ll go down by this weekend and reach the eighty’s. She could only hope. In the meantime, she passed the painful time away by chopping up the fat that still clang to her obese body. That couldn’t stay and look normal. It had to be marked, like a tree about to be chopped down and abolished, one pound at a time.
When the bell rang she marched out of class and headed straight for her car. All her books were packed away in her Dolce and Gabana bag, ready to be devoured into the brain of knowledge. She stuffed it in the trunk of her Escalade and drove off to her million dollar cell.
Surprisingly enough, Molly had beaten her to it and waited calmly in front of her doorway. When she had something to say, she was quick about it.
Tristan walked up to the door, unlocked it, and the two of them headed to her room on the third floor. She dropped her bag on her bed and sat down on the couch in front of the TV, which was more for decoration than real use. She’d rather read a book than destroy her brain with the media.
“So…” Molly started off slowly, itching her way into my mind. “Josh…”
“Just say what you want to say, Molly. I’m a big girl,” she still kept her eyes on the blank television.
She rolled her eyes and began. “I can’t believe you didn’t…I just…he did all that and…you didn’t…like…ah!” she threw her arms in the air and stood up to begin pacing. This was the way her talks usually started. “When a guy says something like that, it’s a lot like a guy proposing. Meaning, he needs feedback! A man usually would like the woman to say ‘yes, I would love to marry you, honey’, not, ‘no, it’s too soon, let’s wait another five years’. You see where I’m getting at?”
Tristan lay on the couch and looked at her hands in the air. She really needed to cut her nails and add another coat of black polish. There was just never enough time anymore.
Molly rolled her eyes again and continued. “When a guy says he loves you, you say either one of two things: first, you could tell him ‘thank you’, which in my opinion is a kind of stupid response…” she started muttering something about it being better than what Tristan said, and then shook her head of her thoughts and began with the second choice. “Second, you can say ‘I love you too’, which is the ideal response. You, on the other hand, didn’t say either of those two; therefore, your man is upset. And he has a right to be, don’t get me wrong,” then she started mumbling something about how he really has a right to be mad, but shook her head again and continued. “But you can apologize and tell him you love him. Because honey,” she paused to look at Tristan, “we all know you love him.”
Tristan put her hands down and looked up at Molly. “I’m over him.”
“Over him… over my dead body is more like it! You guys are perfect for each other! What is wrong with you, PMS?”
Tristan cocked her head and she backed off. Truth be told, she hadn’t had her period in two months.
“Seriously, Tristan, he loves you so much. He’s so hurt right now.”
She didn’t need to hear this. She knew he was hurt.
You hurt him. I told you that all you could do was cause pain to other people. How ‘bout you tell her to bug off, too.
She didn’t mind Molly; honestly, sometimes she was just what she needed, a friend.
I’m your friend, your only friend.
Tristan squirmed on the couch, unsure of what to do. Molly was her friend, but was there any room for her? She didn’t know what was going on with her, and maybe that was best.
No one can know.
She understood that. “I’m done, Molly. Josh and I are through, ok?”
She was stunned. “No, not okay! You guys are just going through a rough patch.”
“It’s over between us.”
“Tristan…”
“No, Molly, Josh and I are over, completely.”
Her excited face fell as she realized that her mission had failed. “Fine, well I guess I’ll just leave you to grieve then. Maybe you’ll come to your senses and give that boy what he deserves.” She muttered something before she walked out the door and left Tristan to herself.
You suck at relationships. Good thing you have me.
Tristan covered her face with a pillow to stop from screaming. Molly had left her, Josh had probably moved on by now, and so she had no one. Well, she had people at school, but no one serious. Her life was a tiny box only big enough for two, and even then it was crowded.
She thought about going for a walk to let out some anger from what Molly had said, and grabbed her coat on the hanger in front of her door. Before walking out of her room she stopped and looked in the mirror, the infamous mirror in all its shining glory. The one piece of furniture in her room that actually talked, and mean things it did say to her.
She paused to see if it would speak this time. Then she turned to the side to admire the one thing she loved about herself, her waist at the side, the tiniest part of her.
It could be smaller.
And there was the brilliant speech she was waiting for. Tristan sighed and sucked in her breath so that her ribs stretched out the skin and she looked like those models on the runway that had bones to pray for. Slowly, she let out the air and frowned at what she actually looked like, then turned off the lights and stomped out.
Snow had fallen the night before and coated the streets with a thick layer of white powder. There were few marks in it at all, probably because most people in her neighborhood hibernate for the winter and never leave their houses except in cars. So, she walked on the white sidewalk and noticed the imprints in the snow from her feet. She was making her mark in the world, she thought, and laughed at herself.
“What are you laughing at?” a voice came out from the driveway of the house she was walking by.
Tristan alertly stopped to see who had spoken. It was a boy about her age, wearing a long, white, and buttoned-down shirt with dark jeans and white tennis shoes. He looked clean-cut and well groomed, whereas she was covered in wool and cashmere because of the cold. His tan skin glowed off of the white shirt and as he stood there he didn’t smile. He kept a light, but serious face and crossed his toned arms. The muscles showed through the thin shirt. “Well…?” he asked again when she didn’t answer.
“Oh, nothing,” she tried not to let her cheeks flush in embarrassment but it was probably too late.
His lips curled up a little at the edges but he didn’t show any teeth as he smiled at her.
She couldn’t recognize her from anything, like school or one of her parent’s gatherings. “Are you new?”
“Yeah, I’m Nathan.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Tristan.” She shook his hand. His grip was firm but warm.
“My family just moved from Boston. I’ll be going to the Covenant School.”
“I go there.”
“Really, what year?” he sounded excited to have something in common.
“Junior year.”
“Same here, I start Monday.”
“Cool.”
“That’s all? It must not be a very good school,” he joked.
She shrugged, “It’s…competitive and boring.”
This amused him. “Ah, school. It never gets better, does it?”
“Nope,” she cracked a small smile. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later then.”
“See you later,” he waved goodbye and she decided to walk back home since it was getting cold. The air promised more snow.