“Sure,” Hanna said.
“Great.” The salesgirl looked Hanna up and down, then nodded. “Leave everything to me. I’m Lauren, by the way.”
“Hanna.” She grinned. This seemed like the start of a beautiful friendship. Maybe Lauren would put new stock aside for her to try on before other girls could get their grubby mitts on it, just like Sasha at the King James Otter did.
She did a lap of the store, selecting several more sweaters and dresses. Lauren chose other items she thought Hanna might like, including a stack of jeans, and whisked them to the back. When Hanna was ready to try things on, she noticed that Lauren had selected the biggest corner dressing room for her. Three other dressing rooms were occupied, but they were much smaller, as though those girls weren’t nearly as important.
Hanna pulled the curtain closed, smoothed down her hair, and looked at the gorgeous wares swinging from their hangers on the post. It was time to do some credit-card damage. But suddenly, her gaze froze on a tag on one of the pairs of denim leggings Lauren had chosen for her sitting on the paisley-patterned upholstered chair.
Size six.
She frowned and inspected the next pair in Lauren’s pile. This one was a six as well. She looked at the tags of the dresses Lauren had selected. Also sixes. There was nothing wrong with being a size six—for most girls—but Hanna hadn’t been a six since before her makeover with Mona in eighth grade.
“Uh, Lauren?” Hanna stuck her head out of the dressing room. Lauren appeared at the end of the hall, and Hanna gave her an apologetic smile. “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m a two.”
An uncomfortable look washed over Lauren’s face. “I really think you should try the six. J Brand leggings run a little small.”
Hanna bristled. “I have three pairs of J Brands already. I know exactly how their sizes run.”
Lauren’s lips pressed together. A long beat passed, and someone in one of the other dressing rooms sniffed. “Okay,” Lauren said after a moment, shrugging. “I’ll see if we have twos and fours in stock.”
The curtain slid closed again. As Lauren padded down the hall, Hanna swore she heard a slight snicker. Was Lauren laughing at her? The other girls in the adjacent dressing rooms had become very silent, almost like they were listening—and judging.
Lauren was back in seconds with the new jeans. Hanna grabbed them from her hands and yanked the curtain closed again. How dare that idiot salesgirl snicker at her! And how had she looked Hanna up and down and just assumed she was a six? Weren’t salesgirls supposed to have an accurate sense of what size a customer was? Didn’t they go through some kind of training? Hanna had never been treated so inconsiderately at the other Otter. As soon as Hanna left here, she was going to call up Otter’s corporate office to complain.
The denim of the size-two jeans felt soft around her bare ankles. Hanna stretched them over her calves, but when she pulled them up to her thighs, the cotton wouldn’t give. Hanna stared at herself in the mirror. This pair was obviously defective.
She wriggled out of the size two and tried on the next size up. She could get these over her butt, but there was no way they were going to button. What the hell was going on?
As a last resort, she tried on the six Lauren had selected for her. She fastened the button and gazed at herself in the mirror. Her legs looked puffy. There was the tiniest bit of fat gaping over the waistband. The seams stretched taut as though they were going to burst any second. Hanna’s heart started to pound. Could all of these jeans be defective?
Or had she gained weight?
Hanna thought about the cookies she’d eaten at the Christmas party. And the leftover party snacks she’d gorged on last night while watching TV in her room, hiding from her dad, Isabel, and Kate. And the pieces of fudge she’d grabbed from the open box on the island when she passed through the kitchen.
Her skin began to prickle. She felt one step away from backsliding into the chubby, ugly, dorky loser she’d been before Ali had befriended her in sixth grade. She peeked at her reflection in the mirror again, and for a split second, she saw a girl with poop-brown hair, pink rubber bands on her braces, and pimples on her forehead. It was the old Hanna, the girl she swore she would never, ever be again.
“No,” Hanna said in a gurgling whisper, covering her eyes with her hands and sinking to the chair.
“Hanna?” Lauren’s platform heels appeared under the door. “Is everything okay?”
Hanna eked out a yes, but everything was very, very far from okay. All of a sudden, it felt like everything in her life was spiraling out of control. And she had to do something about it—fast.
Chapter 5
Down from Mount Olympus
The next morning Hanna cycled around and around the elliptical trainer at Body Tonic, the upscale gym she’d been attending since the end of eighth grade. Each machine had a built-in TV with a zillion cable channels, a juice bar and spa stood next to the check-in desk, and the locker rooms boasted a eucalyptus steam room, a whirlpool bath, and Kiehl’s products in all of the showers. All around her, fit men, women, and the occasional student from one of the many elite private schools in the area jogged on treadmills, pedaled on recumbent bikes, or did slightly vulgar-looking squats on exercise balls. A yoga class was taking place in the exercise room at the back, and at that very moment, the class was attempting the half-moon pose, their bodies making T shapes, their legs wobbling.
Sweat was in Hanna’s eyes, her arms and legs burned, and she’d just seen an upsetting newscast on TV that mentioned Ian Thomas was proclaiming his innocence from behind bars. But she couldn’t stop exercising now. There was no way she would remain a size six. She wouldn’t let a salesgirl snicker at her ever again.