How to Ruin Series Part 168

She pulls her s.h.i.+rt down. "Well, I call it fat. Nathan isn't going to like me. Did you see his last girlfriend, Bicky? She was rail thin."

"Miranda, she was a druggie. That kind of thin is not attractive."

"Neither is this extra thirty pounds I carry around. And no matter how much I try to get rid of it, I can't. Because I crave sweets, and once I start eating I can't stop.

Do you know what it's like not to be able to stop doing something you know isn't good for you?"

"Sure I do."

She puts her hand on her hip, totally unconvinced.

"Well, I know I do and say things that hurt other people," I tell her. "I can't stop it sometimes. It's a protective thing. You know, so I hurt people before they have a chance to hurt me. Don't let anyone else know, but I've got issues."

"Everybody has issues, Amy." She sighs.

I guess she's right. Tori has issues from her parents'

divorce, Miranda has weight/image issues, I have emotional protection/ego issues, Jess has hypochondriac issues ...

Is anyone human actually normal?

I'm beginning to think being normal is actually abnormal.

16.

Zits are G.o.d's way of making sure we know we're only human and far from perfect.

I'd just like him to remind me a little less often.

Looking at my face in the bathroom mirror the next morning, I'm horrified. I stare at the small zit I noticed last night after I took a shower. The small red b.u.mp appeared above my left eyebrow. It's not small anymore.

Jessica is brus.h.i.+ng her teeth at the sink next to me. "Don't touch it," she says as she wipes her mouth with a towel and places her toothbrush in a plastic tube she brought from home. "If you do, it'll just get worse and take longer to go away. Use cover-up and forget about it. Give it two or three days, and it'll be gone."

She walks out of the bathroom and I take another look in the mirror. Two or three days? Ugh. I tentatively touch it. It hurts.

And it's so big it deserves its own name.

George the Zit.

George is being stubborn. Well, I'm stubborn too. I don't listen to Jess and I try and get rid of George myself by squeezing him away. But now George looks worse and has started to throb. It looks like a bright red radish has imbedded itself on my forehead.

If I had bangs, I could hide George from the rest of the world. But I don't. I head to the barracks with my hand over George and sneak past Jess. Lifting my makeup case, I pull out my trusty cover-up. But as I pat it on and examine it in my small travel mirror, the cover-up looks like caked-on silly putty. Besides, when I sweat the stuff is going to come right off. So I do the next best thing: I pull out my travel first-aid kit and cover George up with one of those round Band-Aids. When George is hidden from the world, I head to the courtyard to wait for Ronit to order us into formation.

Nathan is outside, his tongue fully recovered from the bee incident.

"What the h.e.l.l happened to your forehead?" Nathan asks with a grimace. I swear he says it so loud everyone within a mile can hear him.

"Nothing," I say, hoping against all hope he'll drop the subject.

"I've got two theories," he says. "Either you cut yourself shaving your mon.o.brow, or you're covering up a huge zit."

"Shut up or I'll make you eat another bee."

"Hi, Nathan," Miranda says.

"Let me guess what's for breakfast,"

Jessica says as she walks up to us. "Ant- encrusted toast, hard-boiled eggs, and delicious bee-jam." Her voice trails off after a glance at my forehead. I'm trying to look the other way, but she grabs my arm.

"Amy, please tell me you didn't touch it."

"I didn't touch it," I say roughly. I'm not lying. I didn't touch it, I mutilated it.

Nathan pretends to cough, but I know he's laughing. "She's got a big zit she's covering up but is too embarra.s.sed to admit it. Come on, Amy, fess up," he says, then reaches over to pull the Band-Aid off.

I slap his hand away.

"How big is it?" Miranda asks.

"I told you to leave it alone," Jess scolds.

"Okay, okay everyone!" I yell, then pull the Band-Aid off and point to my forehead.

"Everyone, meet George."

Nathan pretends to gag. "That looks so nasty, Amy. What the h.e.l.l did you do to it?"

"You named your zit?" Miranda asks.

"I figured since George and I are going to be together for a while, he might as well have a name," I tell her, ignoring Nathan.

Jess is still staring at my forehead as if she's not quite sure how I managed to turn tiny George into big, red, angry George.

Nathan is laughing again.

"Does it look really bad?" I ask my friends.

Nathan gives me a resounding "Yes!"

Miranda shrugs and nods at the same time.

Jess says, "They might make you go to the infirmary for fear it's something contagious."

I slap my hand over my forehead and run back to the barracks. Unfortunately, Tori is still in the room.

"We're supposed to be outside in less than a minute," Tori says.

"So leave." I pull out my mirror and look up at Tori. "Do you mind? I need some privacy."

"For what?"

"It's a long story that has to do with a big zit I named George."

I examine George in the mirror.

Unfortunately, Tori sees him too. Her lips curl up in disgust. "Eww."

"I know. You want to call me a spaz again because I have a zit?"

"No. But you better go out there before you get in trouble for being late."

George looks nastier than before. "What am I gonna do?"

Tori shrugs. "Put on a hat."

"I don't even know where mine is.

Besides, George might get infected from rubbing against the material."

"I could cut you some bangs, if you want,"

Tori says.

"My mom's a hairdresser."

"Really?"

"Really. Your face structure would actually look good with bangs."

"You'd really cut me bangs?"

"Anything to get you to stop looking at yourself in the mirror." She pulls out scissors from her duffle and slides my hair through her fingers. "Trust me."

She has no clue how hard that is for me, but Rabbi Gla.s.sman says that sometimes it helps to make people feel needed. "I trust you," I tell her.

"Thanks for sharing your story about your parents when we had kitchen duty,"

she says as she snips away. "I see you with all the stuff you have, and I think you have the perfect life."

"It's my parents' way of making up for their shortcomings."

"There. I'm done." She puts the scissors down and holds up the mirror so I can inspect my new do.

I never really wanted bangs. I was six years old the last time I had bangs, and they feel weird brus.h.i.+ng up against my forehead. I have to admit they don't look half bad.

Outside, sure enough, everyone is in formation. Tori and I come sauntering out.

Sergeant B-S isn't here, thank goodness.

But Avi is.

All eyes turn to Avi.

"Why are you late?" he asks us.

"It's my fault, not Tori's," I tell him. "It was a medical issue."

"Are you sick?" he asks, his voice laced with concern that makes my knees weak.

He c.o.c.ks his head and inspects me, looking for a wound or weakness.

"Not exactly."

"Do you have a fever?"

To my horror, he picks his hand up and is about to feel my forehead. I jump back, afraid he'll find George. "No!"

"Amy, my patience is wearing thin.

Fast."

I can tell. "It's not a fever. Tori was cutting my hair."

"Since when is cutting hair a medical issue?"

"It just is."

Avi looks up to the sky, probably asking G.o.d for the strength to deal with me. I don't blame him. Truth is, I am a spaz.

"Tori, get back in formation. Amy, give me twenty pushups."

"Can I do girlie ones?"

"No."

"I can't do guy's ones. I don't have enough upper arm strength."

"Yes, you do." He points to the ground.

"Stop stalling."

I stretch out on the ground. Thankfully we're on a paved sidewalk so I don't have little pebbles sticking into my palms.