Chapter 18

Rachel and I went together to the Apple Blossom Festival and had a great time. Everyone congratulated us, and commented how good we looked together. We walked side by side holding hands, we laughed together and we kissed whenever we could.

My relationship with Rachel had grown into something real—something wonderful. I’d finally gotten the hang of our dance classes, and I was now more than just a passable dancer.

My confidence and self-worth had been steadily rising.

The high school reunion was getting closer, and I was actually looking forward to it.

One morning, after my usual gym routine, Derek asked me to meet him in his office. He rummaged through a file cabinet and dropped a folder onto his desk.

I figured he wasn’t about to show me anything confidential, so I turned the folder around to read the name on it.

Peter Gabriel Filippi.

My file.

I glanced up at Derek, who gave me an encouraging smile. “Go on, open it.”

With a nervous breath, I flipped it open. My photo stared back at me, along with a chart full of numbers and notes.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, just my tracking. I jot things down after every session. It shows your progress.”

“Oh.”

“Come over here,” he said, picking up the folder and walking over to the mirror. “Stand in front of it.”

I hesitated. I’d never liked mirrors. Still didn’t. But I did as he asked, though I avoided looking at myself too closely.

“Look at this,” Derek said, holding up the photo he’d taken the first day I started.

It was the image of the man who’d cried in front of the mirror because he couldn’t stand what he saw. I didn’t like the photograph any more at that moment than I had then.