A/N: I'll be posting the first draft of my novel, chapter-by-chapter. This is nowhere near the finished product. Enjoy, anyway!
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Chapter 1
I stare out the window, gazing at the buildings that fly by. I inhale deeply as I turn around to face the seat in front of me.
No one speaks because they don’t know what to say. Really, what do you say to your daughters who’ve just gotten out of a facility for teens with eating disorders?
Mom coughs as car lurches to a stop. The traffic light changes and Dad stomps on the gas; Megan and I are thrown against our seats.
Finally, we turn into a brick driveway. Mom rolls her eyes and pushes open her door.
“Jerry, get their bags,” Mom commands as she teeters into the house on sky-high heels, “I have work to do.”
Megan and I each grab a suitcase before we slip through the front doors of our house.
We drop the suitcases and look around; breathing in the gleaming marble, chandelier-draped ceilings and leather furniture. It’s definitely an improvement from what we’d become used to.
“Girls, bring your things upstairs and meet your father and I in the kitchen.”
Megan and I slowly nod, like we’re houseguests and we struggle up the stairwell. I grit my teeth as we drag our things into the bedroom that we share.
We smile at the gauzy, purple and aqua bedding that covers the two twin beds before turning on our heels and fluttering into the kitchen.
My parents are sitting on one end of the granite-topped island, on tall bar stools. I assume that the ones opposite them are for Megan and me.
“Have a seat.”
I shoot Megan a worried glance as we climb onto the stools. Mom folds her hands on the island and Dad uncomfortably adjusts the tie that dangles around his neck.
“Welcome home, girls. We know that the past while has been difficult on you both…” Mom begins, “And we’d just like to establish some rules related to your… predicament.”
“Your mother thought we should have some kind of understanding as to how you tell your story,” Dad interjects.
“Okay…” I mumble. Megan shrugs.
“If anyone asks… you were out of town visiting relatives. Don’t go into details if anyone pries you for information.”
“Why do we need to cover it up?” I ask.
Mom glares at me, “Now, Chloe… We don’t want a little slip-up like that ruining our family picture… do we?”
I sigh, “No, Mom…”
“Do you have anything to add, Jerry?” Mom turns to Dad and laces their fingers together, “That’s all I can think of for now…”
“No. It’s good for now, Catherine.”
“Okay. You can go unpack, girls,” Mom waves Megan and I out of the kitchen. We climb up the stairwell and go back into our room.
We silently unzip our identical pink suitcases. I rip the Addison-Manuel Preserve tag off the side of mine before throwing my clothing onto the floor.
Why do they call places like that “preserves”? They don’t preserve anything – especially not important things, like your sanity.
“You better clean that up,” Megan says, neatly folding a sweater into her lap. “Or Mom will be mad.”
I roll my eyes. “Who cares? We just back! It’s not like she can go around controlling us already.”
Megan raises an eyebrow and I immediately bite my tongue. I actually forgot that my mother’s a control-freak. It’s her way or no way. That’s kind of how we ended up in the facility – Mom got all bitchy with us for trying to lose a little weight and decided to pack us up and send us away.
I continue to dig through my suitcase and my hand finds a long, square object. I pull it out and gape.
It’s a Twix bar. A caramel-filled, 270-calorie Twix bar! Who the hell put a fattening bar in my suitcase?
“Megan! Come look!” I hiss at her, crunching the chocolate bar in my hand.
Curious, she springs next to me and examines the shiny-devil object. She gasps and snatches it from my hand.
“Disgusting…” She clicks her tongue as she chucks the bar into the wire, paper-filled waste basket.
Planting a chocolate bar in my suitcase won’t help me adjust.
I mutter under my breath as I gingerly remove more clothes from my suitcase. I look at Megan, who has already put all her clothes into the laundry bin for washing.
“Do you know how fat that bar would’ve made you?” Megan questions.
“I’d have to exercise for a month!” I exclaim.
“No, you’d have to exercise longer than that, Chloe. You do remember that you’re new pair of size zero jeans don’t fit, right?”
I blush. Megan is an inch away from size zero. Size one still fits me.
“Whatever, Chloe,” She tosses her empty suitcase on the floor.
I take the remaining contents out of mine and shove it into the closet, amid a pile of garbage.
I don’t think that being home will be very enjoyable… not for Megan or me, anyway.
