I bored my father to death on the drive home, and then my mom and my sister, so I was almost begged to stop repeating the same stories over and over again.
Well, I wasn't tired of them, so I called Olivia to tell her about my dance lesson, the talk on the way to the class, and about the meeting James Finley. To her credit, Olivia was a lot more interested in my retelling than my family had been, but, to their credit, I was more concise. Even if it's because of the repetition.
We talked about Mrs. Sanchez's teaching, some of which hit right home with our ideas, and how Lyndon both surprised us.
I know she told me a joke she heard on the bus, and I do remember laughing at it, but the words are gone now. I won't fake it.
When I finally hung up, I decided to call Marge, who was even more patient and awed by my interview than Olivia was. It's no mistake that I often see Marge as my best friend!
To her credit, however, when I was done, Edith knocked on my door and wanted to hear the story without our parents's exasperation.
She also provided an insight I missed. They didn't have a good day. A container fell from a boat, and they are partially liable for it.
Wait, let me back up, because this one impresses me.
If a ship is transporting cargo and part of the cargo is lost at sea, the maritime law of general average will compensate the people who lost the cargo.
Let's take an example. Imagine there are 1000 containers on a ship. Let's assume they are all the same value, which they never are. If a single container falls in the water due to the storm, each shipper will pay one thousand of the value of the lost container, including the person who lost the container.
If each container was worth $100,000, that means that each container owner will repay $100 to the shipper who lost the container. They will thus get a net $99,900, since they also need to pay their share.
My parents didn't lose their container(s) on that ship, but some containers were lost, and they needed to pay the compensation. It's not the end of the world, and they would be happy to get their container repaid if it was theirs.
Now, what impresses me isn't that the law is fair and reasonable, but that it was already in place during the Roman empire!
However, what confuses me is that the list of uses of the law doesn't include any incidents during that year. Perhaps it was too small to be mentioned? Maybe it was just a damaged container and not a full-on incident?
In all cases, Edith was more sympathetic when one-on-one. She was notably worried about having no idea about her future while mine was clear. She was sixteen! Sure, she was only in 10th grade, but she only had 2 more years of high school and no way to pay for college.
Don't worry, she got somewhere in life, and you'll get to read about it when we get there.
She was happy for me, and that's what matters.
To their credit, my parents both came to talk to me one on one too, expressing their pride and apologizing for earlier. I did apologize for my over-excitement, but I think we were all exhausted from our respective days.
I even fell asleep on my dad's story! That rarely occurs, as he is a great storyteller.
Mr. Cook the next day was in a fantastic mood. Enough that I wondered if he had a new girlfriend, but I learned the real reason after the class. Mrs. Sanchez put him in charge of helping me write the text for my dance recital.
I should have felt pressured. I should have been insulted, but honestly? Mr. Cook and Mrs. Sanchez were fully my favorite teachers. Having the closest one to me helping me to get closer to the other one wasn't something I regretted at all.
And the more time I spent alone with Mr. Cook, the more charming he felt to me. I knew nothing would ever occur, but I was still searching for a boy to like, and anything to awaken my desires was welcome. Who knows, maybe Mr. Cook's charm will help me see Lyndon in a better light?
Just before lunch, well, before my dance practice, we had social studies again.
Mrs. Sanchez was even more interesting, managing to get the whole class entranced and eating her every word. And Lyndon... was an idiot. Fine, maybe not, but I think that his interventions during the previous class got to his head. This time, none of his questions or comments stuck. At some point, Mrs. Sanchez even asked Lyndon to give space to the other students. Not because he was taking too much space, as I was contributing more than he was. But because it was all too stupid.
Marjory was straight out laughing at him. Right, you don't know Marjory. There is nothing to say about her. Not before this mention, and not after. She is in a lot of my classes. We had, I think, 4 conversations for the whole of our high school that were not for teacher-selected group projects. She did her part, on her side, and worked well. But it's like, I don't know. I never hated her, she never hated me, we just didn't connect.
It is possible, to her credit, that something happened while I was in my Ritalin-induced trance for 18 months or so, and she took it personally, writing me off. Oh well. Not everyone needs to be my friend.
I was stuck, however, because Mrs. Sanchez was going the same way I was, and I wouldn't pretend to eat a sandwich behind her back.
What saved me is that she needed to get to her car. I told her I would grab a bite and join her in the dance room.
I was hungry. Fine, I was. The previous day too. But not overly. I could go through it, and soon enough, I would get used to it. Drinking a lot of water sure helped my stomach to feel full.
I was practicing the last routine she made me do. I had intended to test it at home, but the meeting interrupted my schedule. Fine, the phone calls and conversations did that, but it's the same thing. What's the use of having a meeting if you can't talk about it?
When she arrived, she congratulated me on starting without her, but she also had stuff in her hands.
"I have your leotards! Like I said, you paid for 2, but I decided to give you 3, but then, they were on special, so I got you four! As long as your mother does the laundry once during the week, you'll have a clean one for each day!" she says, handing them to me.
"Wow, thank you"
"Like I said, you are my star pupil"
I look at them.
She laughs. "I was just as distraught when I first saw one. I mean, I was a naturist growing up; for me, clothes were more like a distraction, and I thought, how the flip do I put that on? Well, there are snap buttons in the crotch area. So you put it on like a dress, in a way, but you close the buttons. Now, if you need to go pee, you can just undo the buttons."
"Wait, so when you wear pants on top of yours, isn't it awkward?"
She laughs. "Not any more than panties. Oh, and no underwear under it. There is a restroom just that way. Bring back your clothes, and we'll practice"
I hesitated.
Now, there is one thing I am not 100% sure I mentioned, but while on the Ritalin, I began wearing a bra.
And this is one of the great tragedies in my life. I kept waiting for my body to develop. For my breasts to grow.
I took my pill every morning to turn into a woman.
And when my time finally came. When I lost the ability to count my pubic hair daily due to how many there were and later when my breasts grew, my brain was on vacation using a pill, and my body was blowing up like a balloon.
Instead of being awed by my new look, I learned to avoid looking at it. To hate it and to hide it.
And now, I had to strip fully naked in a school bathroom, a locked one, but still, in school, so I could put on a zero slimming or hiding leotard.
And I did put it on. Which made my stomach turn. Not just because I was skipping lunch, but also because I could see me in the mirror. And realized something that day.
There is no way in hell that that girl would dance on a stage wearing a leotard.
That girl, more than ever, needed to lose weight.
I was on the right way. Each week, a pound or two less than the previous, which is a major improvement over gaining 3 each one. That's like a minus 5 from the past. That, I am happy about. But rapid gains from reduction in water retention are behind me. The rest was hard work.
So, I grabbed my clothes, hid my bra and panties in my pants, and rolled them into my shirt.
In the dance studio, I hesitated, but Mrs. Sanchez was smiling. "I knew I had the right size. Good. Let's review what you learned and add to it.
I'll admit it right now. I could move more easily with a leotard than my baggy clothes. So, I got why we wear that.
Arms and legs are fully free to move, and it still provides a minimum amount of modesty.
Each time I saw myself in the mirror, I would notice how much I filled my leotard compared to Mrs. Sanchez's more streamlined body, but I barely had time to dwell on that.
Mrs. Sanchez was fully keeping me busy.
If I didn't get something, she offered gentle guidance and made me try again. If I did do something well, she still offered gentle guidance and made me try again until I got it perfect. When I did, we quickly moved to another routine.
There wasn't a single idle moment for the whole lunch break, and honestly? I loved it.
I loved every second of it.
When, finally, the class was over, she began to get dressed, offering ideas on stories for the recital, none of which I liked, but I decided to try something daring.
Instead of putting on my bra and panties, I just got dressed over my leotard, like she did.
It made her smile, but she didn't comment. She didn't need to. I could feel how proud she was of me. I left holding the other three leotards, which hid my bra and panties.
Then, I had math in the afternoon, right after the lunch break, and I'll be honest. I feel like the leotard gave me courage, somehow.
Even when the teacher announced that soon, we would do geometry, I wasn't worried.
I thought back to what I said to James Finley. I wasn't sure whether I was the best student or not, but that afternoon, while doing algebra, I killed it. In a way that even the teacher commented on. And that made me feel all fuzzy and warm.
At home, I showed my three leotards to my mom, who smiled with nostalgia.
"I still have mine, granted, I don't fit in it, and I think it's too big for you"
I decided to try something. After lunch, I stripped to my leotard for some dance practice, which my mom made sure not to miss, and then did my homework wearing only it.
I wasn't nude, but I was in a sort of comfortable mood enough to only wear it.
Not enough to sleep nude, I put on pajamas, but I could somehow tolerate myself. But I did wear my leotard under my clothes for my evening jog. Yes, I upgraded my evening walk to a jogging pace. And from that point on, when I would go to school, I would wear a leotard instead of panties and a bra under my clothes.
I hadn't eaten much for supper, with no one realizing, and I eventually went to bed hungry but happy.
The next day, I didn't even bother with the bra or the panties. I went straight to my second leotard, and later, in gym class, I just put my gym clothes over it.
The teacher did come to see me during the training exercises.
"It's not my position to judge, and please don't take this badly, Julie, but I see that you are losing weight. I just wanted to congratulate you on that."
"Thank you", I told him, smiling.
It was working. Between the additional efforts and the reduced calorie intake, I was getting back to my original shape. No, wait, that's wrong. My original shape was that of a child. I should say, back to my intended shape.
Now, there is some confusion on my part. So please bear with me.
I have the feeling that the week I got my leotard, the next chapter occurred. That it was that fast.
But the reality is that I feel like it was multiple weeks.
That the short story was sent, that I went multiple times to Olivia's house to tutor her, a major change of pace, or to work on our social studies group project.
I also know that before the next chapter, that social studies group project had been sent, because Mrs. Sanchez commented on it in the next chapter.
I even knew that I was now no longer hungry from the intermittent fasting and that I had lost even more weight.
So, obviously, between the moment I got my leotards and the next episode, several weeks occurred. Not months, perhaps two or three weeks?
And yet, in my mind, I got my leotards on the Wednesday, and the next chapter occurred just a few days later.
This doesn't work at all, but I can't help it.
I spoke to my father, who helps me write this story, and he also thinks it was about two weeks. Remember, he saw me in my leotard and will see me in the next chapter.
My mom doesn't recall enough.
So, I am stuck. Either the next chapter was the following weekend after I got my leotards, or it was two or three weeks later.
But the reality is that not much occurred during these 2 weeks. I worked really hard on my dancing. I helped others with their essay, realized that this year's geometry wasn't so bad, did a few reading assignments in English, and just went fine in my other classes.
Mrs. Sanchez was even more fascinating in social studies, but I won't bore you with class examples.
Edith kept taking driving lessons and dating Charlie. I even had one sleepover around that time with Marge, in which, again, I wore my clothes and then my pajamas, but Charlie was at my house and everyone else in her family was nude. I had fun, and Marge even wanted to see my dance routines.
I even remember breaking my intermittent fasting for lunch on the weekend.
And I know this all occurred before the next episode. And yet, I can't seem to shake the feeling that I had fewer dance lessons from Mrs. Sanchez than if two weeks had passed.
So, don't see this as a time jump, more like a time adjustment. Me, trying to align my timelines.