Thank you for checking on me.
For long minutes, Freya analyzed her last message to Dan, wishing she’d spent longer thinking of what to say. She hadn’t asked him anything to drive the conversation forward or given any sign she wanted to talk more. It was kind of a polite brush-off more than anything, but it had been too long now. Replying again would be weird.
She thought about it as she made a Swiss cheese and broccoli omelet. The novelty of leaving dishes in the sink had passed, and she cleaned up immediately afterward. She was still hungry. She toyed with the idea of making another, but she didn’t want to wash the pan again. Was this a normal appetite for someone her age? Or was the Starball a parasite?
The word caught in her mind and wouldn’t release. Parasite. She told herself this probably a growth spurt, and she was interested to see if she’d gained weight. She dried the dishes and put them away, and then went to the bathroom to inspect herself. When she took off her shirt, the sports bra did seem tighter. She prodded at herself, inspecting for anything abnormal beneath the skin.
She felt a little bigger. It would make sense. Lassa was taller than her, Randall had been 6’3”. Her eyes fell on her chest, and she frowned. She didn’t welcome the change. Freya had seen the way people acted differently around Jane when she started to develop. Boys’ eyes tended to roll down as they spoke to her. Freya had just assumed she would always be small and slight. It was childish of her to think she wouldn’t change.
Still, she hoped it wouldn’t go much further. Breasts were useless. There were girls in gym who could barely run without them flying all over the place, sports bra or not. Freya had enough weight to carry.
She slipped out of her shorts and underwear and turned around in front of the mirror, touching herself all over, looking for any sign of abnormality. Nothing was out of place, but all the running was beginning to show. The change in her legs and thighs was dramatic, a clear divide in the muscles of her calves. When she tensed her thighs, they were hard as oak.
She smiled at that and flexed her shoulders, thinking of what it would be like to get the same kind of definition there. She tensed her abdomen, feeling muscles beneath a surface layer of fat. If she did crunches, she could probably get rid of that. What would it be like if she got really, really fit?
Freya turned on the taps for the shower, getting it as hot as she could stand, and then got in to wash off the sweat from her run. She was going to have to start shaving her legs soon if she didn’t want the other girls in gym to make comments. She ran her fingers over the stubble in her armpits, wondering why she even cared. Why did she have to go to all that trouble for the two seconds someone might see her while she dressed out for gym? It wasn’t like she was dating anyone.
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Just as she had the thought, she heard her phone dinging in the distance, barely audible over the steady patter of water against her skin. She cut off the taps and wrapped herself in a towel, dripping in the hallway as she hurried to the kitchen table. It’ll just be Lassa, she thought, bracing herself or disappointment. Or maybe it was Jane apologizing, or Dr. Garbuglio checking in on her.
It was Dan.
She typed in “Is that good?” and then deleted it, then Googled average 10k times. It was very good. She looked a little down the page, found what she looked for, then sent him a reply.
There was a pause she knew was him searching to find out who Joe Bonamassa was. The waiting was forever.
She was glad he hadn’t pretended like he already knew. They kept texting back and forth and, finally, she found it was midnight. Freya was in bed and her eyes kept sliding off the screen. Dan was so easy to talk to. A few times, she’d broken out laughing at his responses, and she was glad for the millionth time Lassa wasn’t home.
Freya was sure Dan was interested in her, but he wasn’t pushy about it. Thoughts of the morning kept whispering at the back of her mind. She kept writing something that was too flirty and deleting it. She needed to take her time. She wished him a good night.
She ran her fingers over the screen, then plugged her phone in and set it face down against the nightstand. Freya took the Starball out of her pocket and set it in the hairband beside her phone. She thought about putting on pajamas, but she could barely keep her eyes open.
“No dreams, please,” she said, unsure if the Starball understood her. She just wanted to hold onto this for as long as she could.