Page 5 of Save Me
I know perfectly well that the moment Ember and I bring the baskets into the house, a fight is going to break out between Mum and Dad over who gets more. Like every year, Mum’s planning to bake cakes, pies, and turnovers, and set them out as tasters in the bakery, while Dad wants to make hundreds of jars of crazy-flavored jam. Unlike Mum, he doesn’t have so many willing taste-testers at the Mexican restaurant where he works. Unfortunately, this means that Ember and I will probably have to stand in as guinea pigs. If it were a new tortilla recipe, that would be great, but not when we’re talking apple, cardamom, and chili jam.
“What d’you think?”
Ember strikes a practiced pose. I’m constantly surprised by how good she is at this. Her stance is relaxed, and she gives herhead a quick shake to make her long light brown curls tumble just a little more wildly. When she smiles, her green eyes positively sparkle, and I wonder how it’s possible to be this wide-awake so soon after getting up. I haven’t even managed to comb my hair yet, and my straight fringe is sure to be sticking up toward the sky. My eyes may be the same color as Ember’s, but they’re certainly not sparkling. They’re so tired and dry that I have to keep blinking in an effort to stop them from stinging.
It’s only just gone seven and I spent half the night lying awake, fixating on what I saw yesterday afternoon. When Ember came into my room an hour ago, it felt like I’d only just fallen asleep.
“You look great,” I say, raising the little digital camera. Ember gives me a nod and I take three photos, after which she changes her pose, turns aside, and throws me—or rather the camera—a look back over her shoulder. The dress she’s wearing today has a black Peter Pan collar and a striking blue design. She nicked it off Mum and altered it slightly, to give it a waist.
Ember’s been overweight for as long as I can remember, and she regularly struggles to find fitted clothes that work for her shape. Sadly, the market isn’t exactly flooded with them, and she constantly has to improvise. Her first sewing machine was a thirteenth-birthday present from our parents, and since then, she’s sewed her own clothes, the way she likes them.
These days, Ember knows exactly what suits her. She’s got a great eye for street style. Today, she’s teamed her dress with a denim jacket and white trainers with silver heels, which she painted herself.
A couple of days ago, I was flicking through a fashion magazine and spotted a jacket that looked like it had been made out of bin bags. I wrinkled my nose and hastily turned the page, but nowthat I think about it, I’m pretty sure Ember would rock that jacket like a supermodel.
That’s a lot to do with how self-confident she is, both on camera and in real life.
It hasn’t always been like that though. I still remember the days when she hid in her bedroom, heartbroken over being bullied at school. Ember seemed small and vulnerable back then, but over time, she’s learned to accept her body and ignore what anyone else says about her.
Ember has no problem describing herself as “fat.” “It’s just an adjective,” she says anytime anyone’s surprised by her choice of words. “Like ‘slim’ or ‘thin.’ It’s only a word, and not a negative one.”
It was a long road for Ember to learn that, which is why she started her blog. She wanted to help other people in a similar situation to accept themselves. For more than a year, Ember has been telling the world that she considers herself beautiful the way she is, and her impassioned posts on the subject of plus-size fashion have built up a whole community with her as the pioneer and inspiration.
Mum, Dad, and I have learned loads from her too—not least because she keeps sharing articles with us—and we’re so proud of what she’s achieved.
“I think one of those should be good,” I say, once I’ve photographed her third pose. Ember comes straight over and takes the camera from me. She clicks through the images, wrinkling her nose critically. But one of the ones where she’s looking back over her shoulder makes her smile.
“I’ll go with this one.” She plants a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks.”
We walk back through the garden to the house together, tryingto step between the windfall apples. “When are you putting the post up?”
“Monday afternoon, I thought.” She gives me a sideways glance. “Think you’ll have time to check it over this evening?”
Not really. After school, I have to stick up the posters for the party at the weekend, and then I have to work on my history essay. And I have to come up with a way to get my reference without ever having to speak to Mr. Sutton again. Just the thought of yesterday—Lydia Beaufort on his desk and him between her legs—makes me feel nauseous again. The sounds they were making…
I try to shake the memory out of my head, but that only makes Ember stare at me in surprise.
“No problem,” I say hastily, pushing past her into the living room. I can’t look Ember in the eye. If she spots the bags under my eyes, she’ll know that something’s wrong, and if there’s one thing I don’t need right now, it’s her asking questions.
Not when I can’t get Mr. Sutton’s muffled groans out of my head, however hard I try.
“Morning, love.”
Mum’s voice makes me jump, and I hastily try to get my face under control, to look normal. Or whatever you look like if you didn’t just catch a teacher kissing a pupil.
Mum comes over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Are you OK? You look tired.”
Seems like I need to work on my looking-normal face.
“Yeah, just need caffeine,” I mumble, letting her guide me over to the breakfast table. She pours me a coffee and strokes my hair before setting the coffee down on the table in front of me. Meanwhile, Ember goes to show Dad the photo I took of her. Heimmediately puts down the paper and leans over the screen. He smiles, deepening the slight lines around his mouth. “Very pretty.”
“Recognize the dress, darling?” Mum asks. She leans over him from behind, putting her hand on his shoulder.
Dad brings the camera closer, and his eyes look thoughtful behind his reading glasses. “Is that…Is that the dress you wore on our tenth anniversary?” He looks at Mum over his shoulder, and she nods. Mum and Ember have the same basic body shape, so at the start of Ember’s adventures with the sewing machine, she had a few clothes available to experiment on. In the beginning, it made Mum sad if Ember messed up and pretty much destroyed the dress, but that hardly ever happens now. These days, she’s thrilled by everything that Ember can conjure up out of her old dresses and tops.
“I gave it a waist and a collar,” says Ember. She sits at the table and pours cornflakes into one of the bowls that Mum’s got out for us.
A smile spreads over Dad’s face. “It’s turned out really well,” he says, taking Mum’s hand. He pulls her down until their faces are level and then gives her a tender kiss.
