Recovery

I took a deep breath as I stepped out of the passenger’s seat of Kurt’s car, my large purse on my shoulder, my arms crossed in front of me. “I can’t do this,” I expressed simply, looking at the school that had once been my haven. “I can’t go in there.”

Kurt’s sigh was so loud that I could hear it over the hustle and bustle of the parking lot. “Evie, hon,” Kurt expressed as he walked over to me, clapping one hand on each of my shoulders, forcing me to look at him, “seriously. High school’s going to be nothing. You’ve been to rehab, for God’s sake. Everything else will pale in comparison.”

“I’m not worried about the school part,” I muttered. “I’m worried about what people are going to think, what they’re going to say.” I chewed on my lip for a second before adding, “They’re going to notice that I’ve gained weight. What if they say I’m fat?”

Kurt’s eyes roamed over my figure before he burst out laughing. “You are not fat. You’re a size four now, not a size fifty-four. It’s bigger than the zero you were, but that’s a good thing. You weren’t healthy then.”

I knew he was right, but the butterflies didn’t get the message to leave the home they’d created for themselves in my stomach.

He noticed that I was still fixated on hopping back into his SUV and driving away, so he rolled his eyes, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the school.

Once I was through the front door, it sunk in that there was no way I could miss school. No matter how miserable it made me, I had to pull through.

Kurt was right: if I could survive rehab, high school should be no problem.

Just as I put my chin in the air, ready to strut down the hallway like the HBIC Kurt thought I was, I noticed them. All the people hanging around the edges of the hallway, the corners of my vision, watching me walk by and laughing. Whispering under their breaths about where I disappeared to for six months.

“Holy shit, what happened to her?” they were saying. “She used to be so pretty.” I knew their minds. The judgment was written all over their faces.

And just like that, my eyes fixated on the floor once again, and I did anything I could to keep from looking up into the faces of anyone in the swarm of peers.

Kurt linked his hand with mine, trying to give me a supportive little squeeze, but it didn’t work. I was too far gone, into my head of self-doubt and self-hatred. It had been so long since I’d felt that way, but all it took was a group of non-important teenagers to rip apart all the change I’d set up for myself.

“Hey, Eves,” a familiar voice greeted. I looked up to find Santana standing in front of me.

Immediately, my stomach tightened, my heart raced, my whole body broke out into a cold sweat. I knew that whatever she had to say to me, it wasn’t going to be good. Where’ve you been, Evester? Oh…right…REHAB. Because you were too weak to handle the strict regimen for staying thin that Coach Sylvester set up for us.

And cue the chorus of hysterical laughter that would close in on me from all sides, burying me like an avalanche, making sure there was no chance for breathing.

“Hi,” I responded stiffly, my eyes darting over to Kurt, who was waiting by my side, looking as if he was ready to bombard Santana with a slew of sass if she stepped out of line. Thank God for Kurt Hummel.

She gave me a small smile. “Welcome back to McKinley.”

I hesitated for a second, caught completely off-guard by how nice she was being. “Oh, uh, thanks, Santana.”

“No problem. Coach Sylvester wants to see you in her office ASAP. And you know better than to keep her waiting.”

She gave me a small, fake smile before wedging her way between Kurt and me, her skirt flouncing behind her as she heads through the crowd. I could almost feel how the skirt felt, slapping against the back of my legs as I watched, stiff with starch to make sure it looked perfect.

“What the hell would Coach Sylvester want?” Kurt mumbled in curiosity.

“I don’t know,” I responded, distracted. “But I guess I better go find out.”

“Just make sure you get to homeroom on time,” he warned. “The last thing you want to do on your first day back to school is be late.”

“Right,” I nodded. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

He said something in acknowledgement, but I was already too far away from him to hear.

Once I reached Coach Sylvester’s office, I stood outside for a minute, taking a series of deep breaths, saying words to myself that the therapist had advised to use in situations that made me uncomfortable or anxious.

I can do this. I’m strong and independent. This is going to turn out well for me, because life has a funny way of turning every negative into a positive.

I walked in to find Coach Sylvester sitting at her desk, her hands clasped on the top, as if she was waiting, poised to pounce the second I entered.

“Evie,” she greeted, nodding toward the chair in front of her, “take a seat.”

I did as she asked without argument, putting my bag on the floor next to my feet.

“I know that you’re probably not that thrilled to see me,” she started out, her tone a lot sweeter than I’d ever heard it, “after what happened last year. But I want to tell you that I put a lot of thought into your position over the summer, and I want to say that you’re back on the squad.”

My eyes turned into saucers and I could feel my body start to get really cold, panic mode officially activating, as she reached into a drawer to her left and pulled out a uniform. My old uniform, I could tell immediately.

“Of course,” she added, looking at me intently, “you’ll have to lose a few pounds before you put the uniform back on, but I believe that you can do it. You were the best at maintaining your weight last year.”

I thought about it for a second. The Cheerios. The very place that took all the insecurities I’d developed from my father throughout the years and fed off them, nodding emphatically, telling me that I was absolutely right in thinking I was fat and ungraceful and a subpar dancer. The place that did the same thing to every girl that joined the squad, as well as manipulated her into thinking that she was better than anyone else in the entire school, that she deserved special privileges, while ripping apart her self-esteem in the process.

The whole concept of the Cheerios was just a place where good people got corrupted, and their souls were smothered until they had no conscience left.

“No,” I blurted. “No, I’m not going back on the Cheerios.”

“Excuse me?” Coach Sylvester snapped. “That’s not how it works, Goldilocks.” I flinched at the familiar nickname. “If I want you on the team, then you’re on the team.”

“I refuse,” I insisted as I got to my feet. “The Cheerios did nothing but made me feel inadequate every day of my life, and it almost got me to kill myself. I’m not joining something that makes me feel like that. Not again.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared my down. I could feel my skin start to crawl, igniting with goosebumps. “I was wrong about you. You’re not strong enough for this team.”

“Wrong,” I replied smarty, pulling my purse up off the floor. “I’m too strong for the team.”

And with that, my heart racing, the adrenaline rushing through my veins, I walked out of Coach Sylvester’s office.

It didn’t hit me until later that I probably just signed my name on my own death certificate.