༺ THIRTY - TWO ༻

I wanted to ask him a million more things, but Thomas remained somewhat completely quiet the rest of the night.

Now time is going quickly, and it's already the next day. Thomas is at home, I'm at home, getting ready for ballet, and I'm not sure what the hell's going on right now.

So they're making a serum. To give people energy or something. But to make that serum, they need money. And they want to get money by making people work for it. And they create a serum by using a healthy body, which then results less healthy because it needs to work so much. So they give that body the serum, and they get energy again.

And then they make lots of money because they force that person to work and work and work. AKA Gally and his rugby tour. The couple from the tape we watched? Whoever was ever Janson's star?

I think Thomas indeed told me everything. But still, I don't mind that he did it before the play. Now I know not to trust Janson too much, though I also don't feel in danger around him. Not yet, at least.

He needs me for the play and I'm well aware of that.

I will never go to his house again, though.

T <3

Hey Blondie
Didn't mean to go to bed without really making things up. Let's never do that again, shall we?

I certainly agree

Also, be careful today. Don't make Janson suspicious that you now know quite a lot, alright?
Wait, never mind. I'm coming with you.

You don't have to
You hate being around Janson

Yes, and I hate it if you're around Janson all alone. Well, with Aris, but still. So I'll pick you up and then watch your practice, alright?
Every practice until the play is.

Is that really a good idea? I'd get distracted.

Just focus on dancing. Maybe I can get some more info about WCKD in the meanwhile.

Okay fine. But don't cause trouble or anything

I promise I'll try to be nice to Janson

✵

"I sincerely break my promise," he whispers the second we see Janson.

I groan.

Something in Janson's face twitches once he sees who I brought with me. "Thomas! What a lovely surprise."

They shake hands. The discomfort is dripping straight off their faces as they do so, and Thomas presses his lips together, hard. "Good to see you," he manages.

"Likewise."

For sure.

"What brings you here?" Janson asks. It doesn't really sound mean. Just curious.

"My g- Rose," he says. "I've decided to watch her lessons more often. I'm sure that's alright, isn't it?"

The man smiles, yet his eyes don't. "Of course. Just don't interfere. Keep your mouth shut."

Thomas also smiles at him. "You know I'm very good at keeping my mouth shut, Janson," but his voice is ice cold. "Nothing to worry about."

"I mean it. One word and I'll make sure you won't be able to buy tickets for The Nutcracker anywhere. No watching your... friends dance."

Thomas stiffens. Obviously, this was not the plan he had in mind. "Fine," he then says.

"Great." Satisfied, Janson walks back into the room. Thomas gives me a reassuring nod before he sits down a few feet away from us, his back against the wall.

I greet Aris with a smile, even happier with Thomas's presence, and to just dance again. Of course I made sure to get back into the old diet, but I feel better than before. More energetic, still.

✵

My excitement is gone.

Not even a tiny bit of it is still there.

Janson requested Thomas to go get Henry, who's up the attic, and things are being said to me. Truths, maybe, but it still hurts that Janson changes like this. He was kind when Thomas was there. Now... I don't know. I even prefer the Janson who said I'm his favorite.

The lunch and breakfast I never ate are visible. My legs don't go up smoothly enough. Janson told Aris that if he wants to take a break from the constant weight lifting, he can ask. He complimented Aris on his arms... that they are so strong. That he refuses to believe Henry could do this dance with me, because he's not as strong.

I just hope Thomas gets back soon. Though he's only been gone for like two minutes.

"And you still need new leotards, Rosalind."

Tears are starting to form. "These- well, these are my new ones."

"Oh." He gives my whole body a look. "Guess I mistook that."

And then I'm tensing my muscles too much, but when I relax, I look too weak. I try my best, really, I'm giving everything, but he's not happy.

Aris groans.

Afraid I've hurt him, maybe been too heavy for him to lift, I whisper, "Sorry."

"I'd like to take a break," the boy says, and I know I've messed up. I should've known when he first groaned, the day we met. I'm still too heavy.

"I understand." Janson looks at me again. It's like his eyes send a stab straight into my heart as I blink the tears away.

I thought Aris was on his way to get his water bottle, but he stops right in front of Janson and-

I gasp.

Janson does, too. Then he presses his hand on the cheek Aris just slapped.

Aris. Slapped. Janson. The fact Aris is the calmest boy I've ever met only makes it more unbelievable, but he really just did.

He starts speaking to Janson in such a quiet tone that I can't understand his words, but he's angry. And I'm very embarrassed.

Then before the duo can have a long argument, Thomas and Henry walk in. I think everyone freezes for a second, as if Thomas and Henry could know what just happened.

"Everything alright?" Henry looks from Aris to Janson, then at me, all while Thomas rushes towards me.

"You alright?" He asks quietly. "Nothing happened while I was gone?"

I shake my head. "No danger, don't worry."

"Good." Thomas turns back to the rest. "I know I'm not allowed to say anything, but aren't they supposed te be practicing?"

Henry agrees. Janson doesn't even have a chance to protest: Henry already gave Aris a soft push towards me and the music soon starts.

"Why'd you do that?" I whisper. "You're gonna get in trouble."

"He was body shaming you without shame," he mutters. "I can't let all that happen. It was very disrespectful. One comment, sure, but this went too far."

I decide to just let go of it. Every time I try to help people with their problems, I kind of end up making it worse because of the amount of question I ask and how I react. Maybe I should focus on my own threats.

Which right now, still is the number.

Eventually, we finish dancing and Janson tells us a half decent goodbye, then I find myself in Thomas's car after a quick shower at Sports.

"Here." He hands me the same lunch box. "I figured Luca wants us to start working right away. I've got my own." And he takes a sandwich from a plastic bag, taking bites off it as we drive.

I open the lunch box. It's a salad. Probably homemade. Lettuce, with tomatoes and cucumber and a sauce and some cold pasta.

"I hope you like that," he adds. "I've got more bread if not, though. You like Nutella?"

"I'll stick with this, thank you. It looks good." It's not a lie. It does look good, and I attempt not to spill anything as I slowly start eating the salad.

The pills are burning in my thighs. I'll take them once we arrive. And I'll buy new ones, soon. This is my second, maybe third package already. And then a bigger bottle that I hide in my drawer, but that's just for when random moments, where I feel the need to take some. Just to get rid of some unwanted calories that might be swimming 'round my body.

Thomas lies his hand on my knee. I look up. "How'd you find watching ballet? It must've been quite boring."

"It would've been perfect if Janson wasn't there," he says. "But you dance beautifully."

I look back down at my food, blushing and smiling at once. "Thank you."

The lunchbox is empty when we arrive. My leg is shaking. Thomas and I didn't speak much during the ride, so I got anxious, and now the inside of my cheek is bleeding, and I've got the feeling the salad was way too much. Everything is way too much.

"Will be back in a few minutes," I tell Thomas. My hand slides to the package before I have even fully disappeared into the toilets.

Strands of my hoodie put away, hands clenched, hanging over the toilet, and soon the salad is out. I wash my hand and mouth, then debate how many laxatives to take.

Four. Usually my go-to. I know it's probably not good to eat three more than the normal dosis, but with the reason I use laxatives, one pill won't change anything at all.

Then I return, smiling. The smile is real. Because it feels too good to have the food out. A part of me says it's bad to feel good about it, but I can't help myself. It just feels good.