Seven Days by Eve Ainsworth Page B

But something in Lyn’s calm expression is telling me to trust him.
    “Sure,” I say.
    He grins back at me. I’m sure I can see a flicker of something in his eyes, almost as if they’re softening in front of me.
    The trouble is I have no idea if it’s pity, or if it’s something more.
     
    “There we go, it’s beautiful,” I say.
    The painting of a pink splodge with arms and legs is now pride of place on our fridge. Apparently this is a picture of me. Hollie has taken care to give me a particularly round tummy, almost a perfect circle. What else could I do but praise her, even if the humiliation was burning in my eyes. Hollie, satisfied I liked it, immediately dashed away to play outside with her friend Lucy. Sometimes it depresses me that my five-year-old sister has more friends than I do.
    I stand by the window so I can keep an eye on her. She is drawing chalk pictures on the paving slabs outside our house. I hope there are no more images of me. Mum is sat at the table, drinking tea and watching me. She looks more tired than usual.
    “Did you get any sleep?” I ask.
    “Some.” She is rubbing her arms. Dark bruises are dotted across them. She looks like rotting fruit. Her face is so pale and heavy-looking. She’s not looking after herself. I just wish I could give her a week off. A month, even.
    “How did you do that?”
    “I bang myself all the time at work,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s nothing. I love Hollie’s painting. Isn’t it pretty?”
    I look at it again, the massive round thing. I’m just thankful Lyn didn’t see it. He sloped off to the shops before I collected her. “It’s meant to be me,” I say.
    “Well, she’s given you a lovely smile,” Mum says. “How was your day, anyway?”
    The rush of guilt almost takes my breath away. I can’t even look at her. What if she can see I’ve been skiving just by looking at me? How can I justify missing school, when she’s working so hard she can barely stand up straight?
    “It was fine,” I say and then, just because I know this would make her really happy, “I’ve been invited to a party.”
    “A party! That’s so exciting!” Her eyes brighten immediately; the light inside her has been turned on again. “When is it?”
    “Saturday, I think.” A dark cloud hovers over me. I swear it’s Kez’s shadow reminding me not to get my hopes up. “I’m not sure though. I might not go.”
    “Might not go!” Her eyes are really blazing now. She leans towards me. “Why the hell wouldn’t you go? This is the first invite you’ve had since primary school. Things like this are really important, Jess. It’ll help your confidence.”
    “But I’ve got nothing to wear,” I say lamely.
    “I’m sure we can find something. What about that dress you wore for Uncle Ken’s wedding?”
    “That was years ago. It’ll be too small.” And it’s really naff. I might as well wear a sign round my neck saying KILL ME NOW . “I need a tent.”
    “A tent? Don’t be silly,” Mum says, but I can see that look on her face, that flicker of but you are fat aren’t you . “I’ll find you something. Come here.”
    Reluctantly, I trail after her. I can still hear Hollie’s yelps of joy from outside and I wish I could join her.
    Mum is now in her bedroom. She has the smaller room, painted bright pink by the people who lived here before. “I will sort it one day,” she always says, but doesn’t. It makes me feel sad, coming in here, seeing her single bed unmade and squashed up against the wall. I remember our old house, with the bigger rooms and nice furniture, Mum and Dad’s kingsize bed with the squishy duvet. Most of the furniture was sold and Mum says we’re lucky to be able to afford this place.
    She opens up her big white wardrobe. It has chipped paint on the side, exposing darker wood. It looks like decay.
    “I have some tops,” she says. “Maybe we can have a play around.”
    Mum is dead skinny, probably a size eight, so I