Scars To Your Beautiful // Alessia Cara

Nila

Joel's arm around me has never felt so strong and reassuring and comforting. But the shame inside of me has also never felt so overwhelming and true, and it takes everything in me not to break and run back to my room to bury my head in my hands and hide like someone like me should.

Mom and Moriah obviously fixed tacos, and it smells as good as it always does with two masters like them in the kitchen. I never knew that such perfectly-scented food could make me feel so sick to my stomach.

Dad greets me as we come into the room by reaching out and squeezing my shoulder gently, his eyes begging mine to catch them. I don't, because I truly don't think I can. I just finally break away from Joel and slide into my seat with my gaze down. I never knew it was possible to feel this broken and ashamed amongst the people you loved most in the world.

Dad prays, and we start passing food. The moment I attempt to start fixing my taco, my stomach clenches up even more, immediately beginning the process of twisting itself into a million knots.

All of Katherine's little comments come back to me like a flood, and it's like I'm physically unable to raise the finished taco to my mouth.

Phoenix looks at me, wide-eyed and innocent as ever. "Is you not hungry?" he asks me.

I offer him a tired smile. "No, not really, Buddy."

"Oh." He considers the fact for a minute before his face lights up with a solution. "Daddy could turn it into airplanes!" he exclaims jubilantly. "That's what he does when I'm not hungry!"

I can't help but laugh, reaching out and ruffling his curly hair that I love so much. "You better eat your own food or else he's gonna have to be making airplanes for you, Phoenix."

He nods obediently and turns back to his plate.

But Dad looks at me with that fondness that I will never understand in his eyes. "Don't think I won't do it, Nila Smallbone."

I sigh, shaking my head. "Don't worry about it. I'm just not hungry."

He opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of Joel's fork hitting his plate as he half-drops it beats him to it.

I look over at my uncle, raising an eyebrow. "You good?"

"No, I'm not." He's smiling, trying to joke, but there's also real sadness in his tone and behind his eyes. "My niece hasn't been eating enough for days now, and I am very worried about her."

"Joel—" I start, but he cuts me off.

"Thus, I refuse to take another bite until she takes one."

I drop my own fork, and it hits my plate with a distinctive clash. "Joel David Small—"

Once again, he doesn't let me finish. "I don't want to hear it, my dear. That's the deal, and there's no way to get out of it."

I open my mouth, but this time it's my father who stops me, reaching over to my plate and retrieving the fork that I just dropped. Like the expert he is after the boys, he quickly saws a piece of my taco off and spears it.

"Jude, Phoenix, what do you think this is?"

They both look at it in utter excitement, exclaiming at the same time, "An airplane!"

"Very good," he praises them, then turns his gaze back on me. "Don't make me do it, Darling."

"Dad—"

He doesn't wait for the answer that he knows it going to be some variation of Put the food down, I'm not eating it.

Instead, he takes the fork and "flies" it just like he does for the boys. Thank goodness he at least spares me the sound effects. I'm struggling not to laugh as I roll my eyes, and I know I've lost. Making sure to do it with as much sass as I have in me, I open my mouth, excepting the airplane that my father flies into it. When I've swallowed, I glare at Joel.

"Boom. I took a bite."

He matches me sass for sass. "Alright, well, seeing as you took a bite, I will take a bite. And that's the way this is going to go until the food on your plate is gone."

He reaches for his fork, but Moriah stops him. "Wait," she giggles. "I think you need it turned into an airplane too."

He smiles down at her in that way he has that says he's pretty sure he's married to an eternal child, and he wouldn't have it any other way. "Do I now?"

"Yes, you do," she confirms, taking up his fork for him. And with that, she proceeds to turn her husband's bite into an airplane as well, and she doesn't spare him any of the sound effects.

That's the last straw, and I can't help but laugh at the two of them, especially because I know that looked even more ridiculous than the scene Dad and I just executed.

When his wife is done and has set down his fork once more, Joel fixes his gaze back on me. "Alright, my dear. One for one. I believe it is your move."

I exhale heavily, staring at him for a long moment. But I know he's won and I've lost and I have no choice but to listen or else I'm going to be getting airplanes flown into my mouth for the remainder of dinner.

"Dad?" I ask tiredly.

He smiles at me innocently. "Yes, Love?"

"Can I have my fork back?"

His smile grows at that, satisfaction entering his gaze as he leans over to me, returning the utensil and kissing me on the head. "Yes, you may."

So, no matter how sick it makes me, I eat the taco in front of me. And they're so amazing, because they know that's all I can take, and they don't push me any further, falling back into dinner like everything's normal, except for the fact that every few minutes Moriah steals Joel's fork again to fly him another airplane.

When everyone is finishing up, Mom looks over us, smiling and shaking her head. "I think that was the most interesting dinner I have ever eaten. You Smallbone boys are crazy sometimes."

"And we're the girls who married them," Moriah laughs. "So I think that makes us even crazier."

My mother's only response is a hum of agreement as she gets up to clear the table. I hurriedly rise and beat her to it, and with Moriah entertaining the kids, the rest of us make quick work of cleaning up.

But as the lighthearted joy of the moments at the table fades away, I can feel everything come crashing down on me all over again, from the scars burning on my arm to the dreams I know are waiting for me tonight to the food that I shouldn't have eaten.

My phone in my pocket buzzes softly, so I slide it out and unlock it. I'm greeted by a DM over the app my school uses for communication among students and teachers... for stuff like group presentations and help with homework... from a Kat James. Which means Katherine James. Which means isn't that just fantastic?

Hey, Nila. Just wanted to say I really enjoyed our little chat this morning. I'm glad we finally got daddy up to date on his posterchild daughter's personal habits. Since I heard you're headed back out on tour again, I thought we could stay in touch like this. I want to make sure to keep you accountable on that diet that you should really get on... because this problem gets worse by the day.

I lock my phone again sharply, suddenly terrified that someone will see over my shoulder. And I swallow hard, struggling to show no outward reaction to the message.

I mean... she's right. She's right about all of it. And maybe I should block her, but at the same time, her last jibe could have some use. If I don't have her reminding me every day of how big of a problem I have, I might let it get worse. Her biting comments might be just the motivation I need to get on top of this.

It's certainly the motivation I need tonight. It made me feel so sick that I know it'll be no problem to do what I've known I need to do ever since I ate supper.

So I take a deep breath, slip upstairs to my bathroom, and just like that, my supper is gone.