comparison ~k.v.~

chapter 7

the clock strikes nine. dance is over.

kendall thanks her teacher, hugs her, and runs out to her cubby to jump into her sweatpants. at her studio, they have to wear leotards and tights, and kendall hates it because it displays her flabby tummy and thighs.

all the other girls on her company are skinny and beautiful. they have small metabolisms, so they can devour all the pizza and strawberry licorice they want. kendall tries not to judge them, but it's hard when all you see was beauty and you feel so

ugly.

she zips up her team jacket (yellow with two, thick white stripes around the shoulders and "kendall: competition dancer" etched onto the chest), retrieves her phone out of her bag, and sits on a leathery black footrest. her mom won't be there for at least five more minutes.

salma, one of the younger girls on the team, sits on the floor next to her. kendall looks down and squeezes her shoulder. she and gretchen are the oldest on the team, and therefore the most maternal.

"hey k." salma says, twisting her ponytail and letting her thick, ember-colored tresses tumble down her shoulders and back.

"hey sal." kendall replies, scrolling through her instagram. she still has over a million followers, but they have since ceased rapid activity. but she still does get comments on her photos that say things like notice me! ilysm! 😘😍💗

their conversation carries onto salma's solo, which is her very first.

kendall's first solo was at four years old. salma is eleven.

she's anxious about it. kendall reassures her that she'll do great, she'll look beautiful. salma keeps rubbing her thumb over her knee.

"miss ashely showed me my costume in the costume book today..." she grows quiet. kendall shuts her phone off and sits criss-cross-applesauce across from her.

costumes are a touchy subject.

"and it was this blue crop-top tutu thing." salma adds, becoming teary, "it was tight on the little skinny model and i was like 'how am i gonna fit in that?' i'm so gross and fat, kendall." she begins to sob.

kendall is shocked. she pulls the young girl in and rubs circles in her back. salma isn't the thinnest girl, and kendall gets where she's coming from.

she shhs her, to keep away from prying eyes. all the other girls have left the dancer's cubby-room, and the yellow sash is thrown over the door.

"okay, baby girl, so the costume was tight, hm?" kendall asks. the poor girl nods from her encompassment.

kendall thinks for a moment, concocting a char-like affirmation in her mind.

finally, after a few deliberating seconds, the words slop their way out of her mouth.

"so the costumes tight. so what? even if you have some pudge, that's fine. you are beautiful in each and every way. and if anyone tells you different, they've just been blinded by society's typecast of skinny equals pretty, and while skinny is pretty, so is larger and in-the-middle and whatever. everyone is beautiful. you are going to get out there, and rock your solo. got it?'

salma looks up. "really?" her round face is so full of hope.

"yes, really. now," she says, looking out the window "my mom is here. i love you, and i'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

salma nods. kendall grabs her bag, and while getting into the car, wonders why she can't bear to say those things to herself.

it's really such a simple concept; i'm pretty because i am she thinks.

when jared flashes into her head, she first recoils then deems him a jerk.

and i shouldn't have to deal with jerks.

(author's note: ayyye thank you for your support ur all so rad)