Blue Plate Special by Michelle D. Kwasney Page B

lab.
    The detachment undoes me. I can’t take it. I want him back. I untie my robe, let it part. “I’ve changed my mind. I am ready.”
    Shane reaches down, touching the bruise that’s forming on my hip. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he says, and his eyes fill again. He gathers the ties on my robe, knotting them across my front. “You’re not ready, Ariel. Not for someone who loves you the way I do.”
    I open my mouth to speak, but Shane presses a finger to my lips.
    Turning, wordlessly, he leaves.
    As I watch him cross our garage, then start outside, activating the motion light, I make a silent promise to myself. I will be ready next time. Maybe after Mom and I return from our trip to Elmira.
    Yes, I decide.
    That’s when.

Madeline
    I am officially dieting , something I never dreamed I’d do. Food is the only thing that’s ever mattered to me. But now I have Tad. Tad, who thinks I’m pretty and smart and nice. I would like to add thin to that list. Looking good for him is my number one priority. And I love having a priority. I feel like I’m doing something normal people might do. People who don’t avoid everyone they come into contact with. People who don’t shut themselves in their room at night with a two-thousand-calorie “snack” because that’s the only thing they have to look forward to. I’m glad to leave that club. As long as I have Tad, I’ll never go back. Ever.
    On Saturday morning, I wash Mom’s and my clothes at the laundromat, same as I do every weekend. Except, instead of coming straight home afterward, I park the laundry basket inside the door to Franklin’s Five and Dime. Wandering the aisles, I search for AYDS Appetite Suppressant Candy, which I saw advertised on a TV commercial. When I find it, I buy two boxes—one chocolate and one butterscotch.
    Each morning that next week, I eat a bowl of Total cereal with skim milk then pack my lunch: a single sandwich—lettuce, tomato, andVelveeta cheese with Miracle Whip—a bag of carrot sticks, an apple, and a Tab cola. And every day after school, I meet Tad at McDonald’s and drink a diet soda while I help him study for his GED .
    The second Friday after Tad and I start meeting, I’m wearing a pair of size eighteen pants and a pink cardigan I bought at the thrift store. Coming through the door, I feel like Donna Fargo when she sang “The Happiest Girl in the Whole USA .”
    But once I’m inside, all those good feelings vanish. Tad isn’t sitting in our usual booth, waiting for me. I case out the non-smoking section. The counter area. The hallway outside the bathrooms. No Tad.
    My heart pounds so hard, I’m scared I’ll go into cardiac arrest. I hurry back outside, hyperventilating.
    A voice calls my name. When I whirl around, my tote bag butts me in the rear. It’s heavy—loaded with books and binders for every subject, so I’ll be prepared for whatever Tad’s in the mood to learn about.
    “Madeline!” I hear a second time.
    I scan the parking lot. Tad’s head pokes out the window of a navy blue pickup truck. It’s rusted in spots, and there’s a dent on the passenger side.
    I hurry to him, out of breath. “W—why aren’t you working?”
    “They changed my hours,” he tells me. “I’m off at three.”
    My heart sinks. I don’t get out of school until three, and then I have a fifteen-minute walk. I’ll never get to McDonald’s in time to see Tad. Suddenly I want a Big Mac. Three Big Macs. Five. I could kill for them. I reach into my pocketbook, unwrap an AYDS candy, and pop it in my mouth, chewing furiously. I’m not following the directions on the package—I’m supposed to chew two before a meal—but I have to quell the storm churning in my middle. I have to quiet the Beast.
    “Hey,” Tad says, smiling, “don’t look so glum. It’s good news.”
    I’m suspicious. What’s good for everyone else usually stinks for me. I narrow my eyes. “Like what?”
    “They made me the new assistant manager for