DANCING WITH MYSELF • EDDIE MUNSON

two

It was no secret that Mrs. Cunningham didn't care for you.

When you and Chrissy were in middle school, that wretched woman did everything she could to discourage her daughter from hanging out with you. Said you were a bad influence on her. And why? Because you were, as she so delicately put it, an "alarmingly overweight" child with no sense of propriety. She said this once to your mother over dinner (after your mother had the audacity to allow you a second serving of mashed potatoes), and it turned into a nasty fight that ruined the entire evening. Your mothers spent the rest of the night screaming at each other in the dining room while your fathers drank scotch in the den. Meanwhile, you and Chrissy snuck some apple pie up to your room and listened to your Journey records until Chrissy had to go home. Chrissy ate one bite of pie and pushed her plate away. You ate the rest of yours, but you didn't enjoy it, not at all.

Mrs. Cunningham warmed up to you a little once you lost the weight... a little, but not very much.

You rang the doorbell with your heels clutched in one hand and your dress draped over your forearm. She answered the door with a painted-on smile. "Y/N, so good to see you..." and she pulled you into a firm, unaffectionate hug.

Make no mistake, this woman was not embracing you. She was feeling you. Comparing the shape of your body today to the shape of your body three days ago.

Luckily for you, you passed.

Mrs. Cunningham promptly pulled away. "You look healthy."

"I swallowed a tapeworm."

"Oh..." Mrs. Cunningham gave your chin a light pinch. "Good for you, sweetie!"

You rolled your eyes and went upstairs to Chrissy's bedroom.

"Okay, your mom seriously just tried to measure my body fat with her bare hands! No offense, Chris, but your mom has officially gone batshit."

Chrissy sighed. "Tell me about it..." She was sitting on her bed and painting her toenails teal to match her prom dress. When you sat down beside her, she put down the nail polish and turned to you with a sad, empathetic smile. "I'm really sorry about Chance."

You shrugged. "Whatever, I'm over it."

"No, you're not." Chrissy saw right through you, as usual.

"No, I'm not," you said in a low voice, causing your eyes to well up again. You let a few tears trickle down your cheek, then knuckled the rest away. "God... I was really looking forward to tonight, Chris. I thought it was gonna be kinda special, you know?" You snuffled a few times. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting a Pretty in Pink moment or anything."

"Oh, I love that movie," Chrissy said, smiling a toothy smile.

You laughed. "I know you do."

"We need to watch that again soon."

"Well, I'm free tonight," you joked, and Chrissy gave you a pouty look that said, Stop it, so you did. "Like I said, I wasn't expecting Pretty in Pink, but I guess I just wanted a smidgen of that, you know? Just a fraction of it. Not the whole pie, just a little sliver to get me through these last couple weeks of school. I wanted one great, totally cliched high school experience so that, come graduation, I can finally close this chapter of my life with a smile. Or at least a smirk. I could settle for a smirk."

Instead, you frowned. "I guess I should have known better, huh?"

Chrissy scooted closer to you. "No, don't do that. Don't do that thing where you think the universe is out to get you because it isn't, okay? Look at me. Hey, look at me."