When I Look at the Stars, I Feel Like Myself

Excited screams follow us as we leave the stage. Adrenaline pumps through my veins. The show went off without a problem. No one choked to death on candy, and the custodians can have fun cleaning after the show ends.

I kind of feel bad for the custodians.

Candy that’s been smashed into the floor must be hard to clean.

Jack scoops me into his arms the moment I get behind the curtain and hand my guitar to RJ. He's warm and his arms are comforting despite the Skull Kid outfit he has on, his mask dangling around his neck. Even though it's comfortable, I fidget in his grasp, anxious for him to let go. I know I shouldn't be, but I am. It's not my fault that I am. I need to vomit.

"You look cute," Jack states, holding in laughter.

He cracked up when he saw my outfit earlier, and he was laughing for a majority of the show. I can't believe I actually let Dalton buy my outfit for me. That may be the worst decision I've ever made in my life. He didn't take my hair color into account when picking an outfit. This would have been tolerable if he had.

I might look good in a bright pink corset top and matching tutu decked out in sparkles if I had a normal hair color.

In his defense, he did find blue wings.

"Don't rub it in," I return.

"You didn't have to wear it."

He's right, I didn't have to wear it. I could have told Dalton I refuse to put on an outfit that clearly will not match with my hair. But Dalton has the most adorable puppy dog pout I've seen in my life. It may be cuter than Jack's.

Actually, I'm pretty sure it beats Jack's.

"What would I have worn instead of this?"

That's the other reason I didn't refuse to wear the outfit. I don't have something else that would have any semblance of a fairy costume.

"I think I picked a pretty cute costume," Jack says.

"I'm not wearing underwear on stage."

"Are you going to wear it when we go to the park tomorrow?"

"You want me to walk around half naked in public?"

"You wouldn't be the only one doing it, I'm sure."

"No, Jack."

"So you'd rather go out in public dressed like that?"

He's got me there. It might be more embarrassing to go out in public in this outfit than walk around in my underwear.

"I'll go out in sweats tomorrow."

"Holl, please," Jack whines, pout gracing his features.

Maybe Jack does have a cuter pout than Dalton. He may even have a cuter pout than RJ.

I might be biased on that.

"If I agree to wear my underwear tomorrow, will you let me go to the restroom?"

I'm not above bartering for time to vomit.

"Considering I know what you're going to do in the restroom, no."

"Can't you pretend you don't know, so I can go do it?"

That's a pretty stupid question, I must admit.

"You know I can't do that."

"I know, but," I pause, "this is hard. I haven't gotten the chance to do it since before breakfast."

Jack's been around me nonstop. Even when he had to try on his costume, he made sure I was nearby and not in an area that would be easy to vomit in without getting caught. I don't know if I can go another minute without vomiting.

"Do what?" Dalton's voice cuts into the conversation.

Jack and I turn our heads to face him. He's handing his drumsticks to RJ, not even two feet away, confusion etched on his face.

We could have had this conversation elsewhere.

"Masturbate," Jack blurts.

Oh, geez.

Dalton's nose crinkles and he grabs the Jones Soda RJ is holding out to him, popping it open. "I don't think Holli-bear knows how to masturbate."

"I taught her," Jack says.

Actually, it sounds more like a question. He probably didn't expect Dalton to continue a conversation regarding whether or not I touch myself.

That's Dalton for you.

"Jack-Attack, I may act like a retard, but I'm not stupid. Holli-bear would kill you for even suggesting she masturbate around you."

"She wouldn't kill me," he looks down at me, "You wouldn't kill me, right?"

"Let's not find out," I reply.

"Now that we've debunked Jack's masturbation theory, what are you really talking about?" Dalton asks.

"I haven't gotten the chance to eat since around breakfast."

Lies. I almost feel bad about that. I know Jack is going to be upset about me lying to Dalton. But I can't tell Dalton, not yet. If I tell one band member, the whole band will find out. I'm not ready for them to know.

Dalton seems to accept the answer and seems to imply that I'll eat from that sentence. "Well, I have to go make sure John hasn't fucked up his hair. I'll see you later."

With that, he bounces away, nearly running into a set of techs and equipment loaders trying to set up for The Maine's set.

When he's out of earshot, Jack asks, "Do you think he believes you?"

"I don't know. But we should talk somewhere else."

I don't want another intrusion into our conversation regarding my bulimia.

"Yeah," Jack sighs, "I think The Maine's dressing room is about to be empty. We'll have awhile to ourselves."

"Speaking of The Maine," I nod my head towards Garret.

Er, Cloud.

I'm pretty amazed at how well his hair came out.

Garret stops next to us. "Hey, love birds, have you seen John?"

"No, why?" I ask.

"Because we need to be on stage in five minutes."

"I'll get him," Jack says. He takes a deep breath, and I plug my ears with my fingers. “John, come on, we need your sexy bod onstage," he yells.

I can barely hear him, his voice muffled by the fingers sticking into my ears. I can tell when he's done, though, and allow myself to hear properly.

"Dude, she just forgave you and you're trying to blow her eardrums out? I thought you were smarter than that."

People noticed I wasn't talking to Jack? It didn't seem like my band mates had noticed, aside from Dalton. He notices everything I do with Jack. He has a good eye when it comes to certain things.

I thought he had a good enough eye to see I can't wear bright pink.

I don't think I'll let him live this down.

Jack tightens his grip around my waist, "I won't let her get mad at me again. Not for so long at least."

That's sweet. I don't think I could allow myself to get so mad at him again over vomiting. He was trying to help, and I was being a bit too resistant.

Way too resistant.

"Two weeks too long for you?"

"You have no idea."

Garret chuckles and shakes his head. He doesn't get the chance to retort. John turns the corner, coming into sight. Garret waves a hand at him, catching his attention.

How much gel do they have in their hair?

"I have to get ready to perform," he says.

"Good luck out there," Jack returns.

"Thanks, dude."

Garret walks away. Jack releases my waist and slips his hand into mine, tugging me in the direction of the dressing rooms. He doesn't need to say anything to make me follow him. We walk through the backstage area, hand-in-hand, arms brushing lightly. Each step we take brings us farther away from the bathroom I wanted to use. The farther we get from the bathroom, the more I can feel my stomach flipping and heart clenching.

This will be my first performance not vomiting directly after.

A room marked "The Maine" comes into view. Jack pushes the door open and leads me in. Containers of hair gel are scattered around. There are so many that I'm afraid for the hair of the band members.

It can't be healthy to use that much hair gel.

"The reason I won't let you run off to the bathroom for the purpose of vomiting is because I know you'll do it when I leave you alone tonight," Jack jumps right into our abandoned conversation.

"You don't trust me enough not to do it?"

"I can't expect you not to. Holl, you have urges to do this to your body. It's going to be hard for you to quit. The least I can do is make sure you don't vomit while I'm with you."

I don't say anything, letting his reasoning sink in and trying to interpret it the proper way. I can't allow myself to get mad because I think he doesn't trust me. We only started talking again in the morning, there's no way I can get mad.

All things considered, he probably shouldn't trust me when it comes to this.

"It's hard not to vomit," I mumble.

"I know it's hard, but it'll get easier."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. Everything gets easier with time."

I suppose he's right, to an extent. Vomiting got easier over time, dealing with my mother got easier over time, allowing myself to like him got easier over time.

But I don't think I could ever push myself not to like him or not to want my mother to give me a little attention. Those aren't things that get easier to ignore over time. Is forced vomiting one of those things? Will I really be able to force myself to quit?

"If you say so," I sigh.

"Come here," Jack says, pulling me towards him and wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

My arms slip around his middle, and I snuggle my face into the crook of his neck. His scent wraps around me, like it does everytime we embrace, comforting me.

"It's going to be okay," he mumbles against my hair, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

"Yeah."

Silence. It's nice. Jack lets it extend far longer than he ever does, letting me muse against his neck, his fingers playing with my hair. But I don't think about much other than Jack. In his embrace, I memorize him. The light raising and falling of his chest as he breathes, the beating of his pulse against my cheek, the way his lanky body fits against mine.

I like this.

"So, you're really not going to wear a costume tomorrow?" Jack asks.

"Probably not."

He takes a heavy, exaggerated breath, "Holl, that wasn't supposed to be an option."

I pull my face away from his neck and look up at him. Not supposed to be an option?

"What are you talking about?"

"Um," Jack's eyes dart around in frantic motions, "You know, I think I should be getting to the stage."

He tries to leave, but I don't let him get anywhere. The pieces slowly form together in my head.

He didn't.

"Talk, Barakat."

"Don't get mad."

"What did you do?"

"I may have convinced Dalton to pick out that outfit for you so you would have no choice but to wear the underwear."

He did.

I stare at him, a blank stare that causes him to fidget.

"Holl, please don't be mad."

And I laugh.

I can't contain it. Laughs spill past my lips without filter. Pain runs through my ribcage and I have to lean against Jack to keep from falling over. Tentative, he lets his hands fall to my waist.

"Holl, are you okay?"

"I can't believe you did that," I choke out, laughter slowly stopping.

"So, you're not mad?"

I shake my head, trying to gain control of my breathing. I know he's confused by my reaction. The normal Holland would lash out at him, even the changed Holland might. He convinced one of my friends to buy a ridiculous outfit for the purpose of making me wear underwear in public. Most people would be a little upset.

But his ridiculous attempt is too funny. He's desperate enough to manage to convince Dalton to sacrifice his homosexual integrity in order to get me to walk around in underwear. I don't know what he had to do to get Dalton to agree to it, but I'm almost positive it has something to do with Jones Soda.

Jack is silly.

"I feel like I should question this," Jack starts, "But I think I'm going to go with it."

I giggle. "Is that your response to every confusing situation?"

"Tends to be."

"That can't be good."

"Not always," he nods and grimaces. "Anyway, I really do have to get to the stage."

"Can I watch?"

I still haven't watched Jack perform.

He smiles, running a hand through my hair, "I’d love it if you did, but I think you need some sleep. You need to get your energy up so I can take you on all the roller coasters tomorrow."

"I don't like roller coasters."

"You're going to like them tomorrow."

"Jack—"

"No arguing. You're going on roller coasters. Now, head to your bunk and sleep. I want you to be ready for tomorrow."

"Can I have a kiss first?"

"Always."

Jack captures my lips with his. I can taste chocolate on him. It reminds me of binging, reminds me that I can binge and purge all I want when I get on the bus.

But his lips against mine, moving in the way I like, makes the thought disappear.

Jack pulls away. "Please don't vomit when you get on the bus."

The desperation in his tone makes my heart throb.

"I'll try not to."

"Thank you."

His arms slip from around my waist, hand attaching to mine. Without another word, he leads me out of the dressing room. In the hallway, he hugs me and gives me a short kiss.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Night, Holl."

"Night, Jack."

Smiling, he turns and walks down the hall. I watch him till he's out of sight before walking in the opposite direction to the parking lot. Outside, it's quiet and cool. I enjoy it while I walk, anxiety rising in me.

I'm about to face food on my own. I don't know if I can do it.

I type the security code to our bus in and walk up the steps. No one else is there. It would be the perfect opportunity to binge and purge.

I lick my lips, staring at the kitchen. We should still have candy somewhere in there. I don't think we threw it all. I could eat it. All of it. And vomit into the little baggies in my bunk.

But Jack would be upset.

I shake my head, pulling my gaze away from the kitchen and walking to the bunk area. Vomiting isn't going to solve anything right now. I've gone since breakfast without it. I should at least try to go till breakfast tomorrow without vomiting. That'd be a whole day.

I grab a set of sweats I left in my bunk, change quickly, toss Dalton's outfit into the corner of my bunk, and climb underneath my blanket, curling into a ball. For awhile, I just sit there, staring at my open window.

There's food in the kitchen, food I can stuff myself with and vomit up.

I want to.

But I can't.

Groaning, I shut my eyes and try to calm my breathing. Thoughts of food continue to swirl around my head. I try to think of other things, my sister, my mother, my guitar, something to distract my thoughts.

And then Jack pops into my head.

Thinking about him seems to work in putting me to rest because, next thing I know, I'm opening my eyes to sun flooding my window and Dalton's excited chatter in the front of the bus.

Yawning, I push myself to a seated position. My eyes catch on the bright pink outfit crumpled in the corner. I smile, grab the bunch of clothing and wings, and slip out of my bunk. I pad to the backroom and kneel in front of my paisley bag, unzipping it and yanking it open. The Victoria's Secret bag stares at me while I toss the clothing into the luggage, reminding me that Jack's ideal outfit is in there. Biting my lip, I reach into the bag and pull out the bra and panties Jack showed me the morning before. I turn them over in my hands, debating.

I should at least try them on. I haven't gotten to wear these yet.

I grab the wings and shut the bag. Underwear and wings in hand, I leave the backroom, and lock myself in the bathroom. I change from my sweats into the matching bra and panty set, wings attached to my shoulders. Taking a breath, I look into the mirror above the sink. I can't see much, just the bra pushing my breasts together and part of the wings. Pursing my lips, I look down at my body. I can see my hipbones stretching the fabric of the panties, can barely see the outline of what should be my ribcage.

Never did get to the point where I could see my ribs clearly.

But I look decent, from what I can tell.

I need a second opinion, though, to make sure I don't look like a fool.

Grabbing the puddle of clothing at my feet and unlocking the door, I slip out of the bathroom. As I pass my bunk, I toss the clothing into it, slip on the high heels I left next to the bunk, and continue into the living room.

I'll put up my clothes later.

No one looks up when I enter the front of the bus. Calvin, Dalton, and RJ are too busy playing video games. Elina is watching them intently. Ross is staring at his computer. I assume Riley is asleep. Everyone, with the exception of Ross and Riley, is in costume.

"Um," I start, "Does this look okay?"

There's no use in beating around the bush or trying to get them to notice by walking past. It's not likely anyone will notice till they're ready to leave the bus. By then, it’ll be too late to change.

My question causes everyone's attention to turn to me, pausing their morning activities. Dalton is the only one who's mouth doesn't drop. He smirks in satisfaction, leaning back on the couch.

Somehow, I think he knew this would happen.

"Well?" I push.

"You look like a wet dream," Calvin mumbles.

Beside him, RJ nods enthusiastically.

"What possessed you to put that on?" Elina asks.

"Why don't you ask Dalton?"

Elina shoots him a look, which he returns with a smile.

"I'm getting Jones Soda for month out of this," he says.

I knew it had something to do with Jones.

"Jack bribed you?" Elina asks.

"Are you really surprised by that?" I ask.

"No, but I can't believe Dalton went with it."

"Did you not hear me?" Dalton asks, "Jones Soda for a month."

"Dalton, Holland is in a pair of panties and a bra."

"You can't tell me she looks bad in that."

"That's not the point. Have you ever seen her wear anything other than sweats off stage? She must be so uncomfortable."

"I'm fine, Elina," I cut in, "I wanted to make sure it doesn't look stupid, though."

"Are you sure you're okay with wearing that?"

I shrug. In all honesty, it's not that bad. I may change my mind once I get into the park lot, but I'm okay right now. I'm in front of my band mates, one of which is a gay male. I don't have much of a reason to be uncomfortable.

Tentative, Elina says, "Well, you do look good." She pauses, wheels of her mind working. "You should get your bellybutton pierced."

"That'd make Jack go insane," Dalton remarks.

And Elina and Dalton immerse themselves in some conversation about belly button rings. I don't really pay attention, instead walking across the living room and taking a seat across from Ross in the booth.

"I can't believe you actually caved," Ross says.

"It was either this or sweats all day, and where's the fun in that."

"You must really like Jack to be willing to wear that for him."

"Yeah, I do."

"I'm happy for you. I don't know what's been up lately, but he seems to be helping."

"Nothing's been up."

"I'm not going to push you to tell me, but we all know something's wrong, Holland."

I stare at him, eyebrows drawn together. They've noticed. I don't know what they've noticed or who has noticed, but they've clearly noticed something. I guess I couldn't expect them not to since we've been around each other for so much more time than normal, and I did have those moments on stage. Have they put it together already?

"There's nothing wrong," I say.

"Whatever. Just know we're here for you, alright. You don't have to hide stuff from us."

"If there's something wrong, I'll tell you. But, as it is, there's nothing wrong."

"Okay."

He doesn't sound like he believes me at all. I should be worried. But if he knew what was wrong, then he wouldn't let me get away with not talking to him about it, because he would know it's dangerous.

A knock rings through the bus. Dalton perks up, excitement clear across his face.

"Go answer the door, Holli-bear."

"Why me?"

"Because it's Jack. Now, go answer the door so that Jack knows he owes me all the Jones Soda I can drink for a month."

"Jack's going to go bankrupt by the end of this month," I mumble, pushing myself out of the booth and walking to the door.

"Damn straight," Dalton states.

Jack really is an idiot for making this agreement. I wouldn't even offer Dalton all the Jones Soda he could drink in a day.

Oh well, its Jack's money.

I press the button for the door, forcing it to slide open, descending the steps as it does so. Jack is outside the door, dressed in full costume. His head jerks when he catches sight of me. He yanks the mask off and lets his eyes glide over my new costume choice.

"Wow," he breathes. "You look... wow."

Smiling and slightly more confident about my choice in attire, I take the last step off the bus steps onto the pavement. Jack continues to look me up and down as if he's trying to memorize the sight.

This probably is the last time he'll see me this scantily clad for awhile. He may as well try to memorize it.

"Are you going to stop staring long enough for us to get into the park?" I ask.

That seems to snap him from his revere. He shakes his head, pulls his eyes to my face.

"Right, park, roller coasters," his eyes drift again, "You know, I think I have a roller coaster in my bunk that's more fun."

"Shut up, Jack," I roll my eyes, grab his hand and start pulling him towards the park.