Ava peers into the mirror, searching for flaws, her brow furrowed. She moves her body this way and that, craning to check every angle. At last, she straightens her back, satisfied, her full lips curving into a smile.
‘Beautiful,’ she whispers.
Feeling comfortable with her body is new to Ava, and it thrills her. She remembers a time, a few years earlier, when she always avoided the mirror.
At sixteen, Ava was shy, unpopular, and overweight. She changed from a normal, unassuming girl into a brooding adolescent almost overnight. Food was her only solace, and she ballooned from size ten to sixteen in a matter of months. With every ounce of weight she gained, Ava's self-esteem dropped until her mind became a dangerous playground. The old Ava never wore makeup, bothered with her hair, or cared about clothes. Her dark tresses hung limply on both sides of her round, often red face, and her wardrobe consisted of loose cotton shifts that hung from her shoulders like everyday linen on the clothesline. Ava withdrew from normal life, isolating herself in and outside of school. She wanted to be left alone and invisible. This worked well for Ava until one fateful day in August.
It happens at the end of an ordinary school day. Ava is taking her usual short cut through the art building on her way home. She turns the corner and finds herself on the periphery of a crowd. They babble with excitement and jostle against her as they push to get near the front. She tries to break free but is pinned on both sides and can only shuffle forward towards the focus of the crowd’s attention. A flyer on the notice board jolts her. The blood drains from her face at the bold, red print and the photo staring back. It's Stevie - her rock star idol. There’s a week of mentoring in Melbourne and a night on stage singing with her. Ava’s eyes widen. Stevie has just released her second album with three number-one hits. She's everything Ava aspires to, much to her parents' disgust. Years earlier they ripped down Stevie's posters and banned her music from the house.
‘She's a heathen who didn't finish school,' her father roared. 'She has no place in your life.’
Ava remembers her heartbreak and then thinks about her current, silent rebellion: she plays Stevie's music when her parents are at work, which is all the time.
She’s nudged sideways, and someone tells her to get out of the way. She ducks her head and shuffles on with bodies pressing her at all sides. She hopes they’re too distracted to notice her slipping away. Being invisible means less torment and ridicule. She surges forward, pushed from behind, and keeps her head down with her eyes on the ground. Her thick hand clutches the strap of her backpack that is slung over one shoulder. The thud on her back brings her head up with a jerk. A wad of wet toilet paper drops to the ground. Heart thudding, she presses on with tears in her eyes. She is accompanied by a cruel laugh. Ava walks the three blocks home as fast as she can and swings her front door open ten minutes later. She heaves and wipes the tears with the back of her hand, locking the door and speeding down the hall. She drops her backpack on the floor in the opulent black and white kitchen and rushes to the freezer. She inhales icy air when she yanks it open and digs a chunky hand into the frozen landscape. Her lips quiver at the tub of vanilla ice cream, and she tears off the lid eagerly. The creamy sweetness dissolves on her tongue, calming the thud of her heart. She slides to the floor in front of the open freezer door with her back propped against the frozen shelves. Her spoon dips into the container over and over until it scrapes the bottom. She peers in, licks the spoon, and dumps the empty container in the bin.
The ice cream doesn't bring the solace she’s expecting. Just empty guilt. She slumps in front of her computer, opens a search engine, and types the name. Stevie’s dazzling smile fills the screen. She stares at the high cheekbones, straight nose, and waves of thick dark hair. The clear blue eyes, rimmed with dark liner, and dimple popping in her left cheek are familiar. Ava presses a finger to the dimple and then a matching one on her own face. She sighs, desperate to win the competition and see Stevie in the flesh. Her eyes close and she imagines their meeting. Then a sudden stab of fear brings her back to reality. She pushes back on the chair with such intensity that it wheels into her bed and rocks sideways. She takes a step toward it and then spies the full-length mirror beyond it. She approaches the mirror with trepidation, her heart skipping. Her dressing gown drapes the glass, claiming it as a natural hook, but in reality, it is hiding her reflection.
She tries to remember her last encounter with the mirror, but it's been so long that it escapes her. A trembling finger hooks the dressing gown and lets it flutter to the floor. It puddles at her feet. Her eyes lift from the silken pile to her glassy reflection. A stranger’s thick waist and broad hips stare back. She turns sideways and studies her profile; her eyes are wide at her body's betrayal. She takes a breath and lifts her uniform over her head. She cringes. Pendulous breasts and sallow skin bulge over sensible, 'old lady' underwear. How can she meet Stevie like this? She’ll be repulsed.
Defeated, she seizes the dressing gown and hides beneath it. She moves towards the kitchen and salvation. She knocks the desk in her rush to escape, and the computer springs to life. Stevie smiles at her, blue eyes sparkling and dimple popping. Ava’s knees buckle, and she freezes. What’s she doing? She has to control herself. She can’t go on like this.
Ava turns back to the mirror, tightening the wrap. With new resolve, she pulls up the chair and opens the search engine. Her fingers hover over the keyboard as she formulates a plan. And then she shops for everything she will need to set her plan in motion. Money is no object in Ava’s house. She can buy what she wants without question. Her parents always offer her money to compensate for their absence. They're partners in a prestigious law firm in Delany and are never home before nine or ten in the evening. She's is a virtual stranger to them. A ghost that lives, eats, and sleeps in their extravagant house alone. As long as Ava maintains her grades and avoids trouble, her parents ignore her.
Ava is the younger of two children. Her older sister left home in a blind fury six years earlier. Ava was ten and remembers the blazing argument and the slamming door. From the day she left, it was as if her sister never existed. Her parents cleared her room, removed her photos, and never spoke of her again. It left Ava heartbroken and lonely, but they didn’t care. Their tolerance of their younger daughter rarely extended to open affection. Her mother told her she was a mistake years before; she's a cruel reminder of a single lapse in judgement in an otherwise perfectly executed life.
That night, Ava sits with her parents while they eat a late supper. Butterflies swarm in her gut as she tells them about the singing competition and trip to Melbourne. She doesn't mention the singer's name. They don't even feign interest; her father adopts an immediate air of indifference.
‘As long as your grades don't suffer, I can't see the harm. You can't sing that well anyway.’
The words sting as they always did, but this time she smiles at his misconception. She's been taking singing lessons every Monday for almost two years and sings like an angel.
He scratches his signature on the permission form she brings home the next day and tells her to use her debit card if she needs anything for the performance. She thanks him and tucks the note into her school bag.
Her Internet shopping arrives the next day, and her heart flutters as the delivery man unpacks and assembles her purchase. Ava locks the door after he leaves and climbs the stairs tingling with nerves. She changes into sweatpants and a t-shirt and steps aboard her new treadmill, the man's verbal instructions swimming in her head. The novelty of walking on the spot wears off quickly, and thirty minutes after starting, she's stripped and in the shower, cursing the damn thing. Disappointed, she resolves to do better tomorrow. That night she has a diet shake and salad for dinner, but hunger pangs have her standing over the sink at midnight as she devours a handful of biscuits and an apple pie.
The following weeks bring better resolve, but Ava is racked with guilt every time she weakens and a pattern of starvation and binging emerges. One afternoon, a month into her new regime, Ava lifts her head from the toilet bowl and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. The acrid taste of bile lingers on her tongue, and she screws her face tight. She rinses her mouth under the bathroom tap and sways on her feet. She blinks at the face reflected in the mirror. Despite losing eight kilograms, Ava fills with self-loathing, and sudden anger flares inside.
‘What are you doing you stupid cow?’ she asks her reflection. ‘It's your voice that'll win this, not your hips!’
She steps into the shower and scrubs herself with fury. She vows to eat like a normal person without the guilt and paranoia that has plagued her for the past month. She needs to focus on her voice.
On the day of the competition, Ava wakes to an early alarm and is a tangle of nerves. She does some star jumps to release her tension and showers, careful not to wet her new hair. She'd skipped afternoon classes yesterday to get a sharp new bob and didn't want to destroy it. She can hardly believe the way it frames her face and accentuates her cheekbones. She smiles and her dimple pops. She pulls on a fitted black dress and admires the way it hugs her curves and the small bulge of her belly. For a split second, she considers changing the dress for a more sensible set of leggings and shapeless shirt, but she stops herself in time.
‘No. This is me. All of me,’ she whispers, her gut twisting.
She takes her time to apply a thin veil of foundation, eye shadow, blush, and red lipstick. She stands back, gives herself an air high five, and imagines singing on the stage. She's never had an audience before, and the thought makes her sick. Her song is 'You're an Angel’, one of Stevie's first big hits. She hopes it will be hers as well.
When she arrives at school her nerves heighten and she keeps her head down on her way to the auditorium. There's a big crowd of students and teachers inside the building. She makes her way to the back stage area, heart thudding. It's just as busy behind the curtains and she checks in and then finds a seat to wait her turn.
She focuses on the words of the song, going over them in her mind, shutting out the stage and the crowd. When her name is called, she hesitates, almost losing her nerve. It takes all her courage to walk on stage and ignore the taunts. Someone tells her to get off, and she turns to run. Her name rings out again. She steps forward, takes a deep breath, and forces a smile. The music starts, and she closes her eyes to sing the first note, already lost in the song.
There's silence when her voice fades, and it's over. Her heart thrums in her temple, and she scans the room, expecting the worst. All eyes, wide in disbelief, are on her, and mouths are hanging open. Someone at the back starts to clap, and the whole room joins in. People spring to their feet, whistle, and shout for more. She feels her face grow hot, and tears of joy spring to her eyes. They liked it.
Ava leaves for Melbourne two days later. Her parents aren't there to say goodbye. There’s a note on the kitchen counter with a brief explanation and five crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. Ava tucks the money into her suitcase and calls a taxi to the airport. Her flight is uneventful, and she's met in Melbourne by a sharp, young woman with bright red hair. Her name is Dawn, and she's Stevie's personal assistant. A black limousine takes them to Stevie’s studio, where she’s working on her next song.
Ava’s belly squirms when she enters the studio. In the minute it takes for her eyes to adjust to the light, she spots Stevie talking to a man in business pants and a white shirt. She towers over him; she is elegant in jeans, a dark shirt, and red heels. She holds a paper coffee cup in her hand. Ava's nerves evaporate, and Dawn calls Stevie's name. The instant she looks at Ava, the coffee cup hits the floor and Stevie squeals. She covers the distance between them in seconds and flings her arms around Ava.
‘Ava, you grew up,’ Stevie says, holding her sister at arm’s length.
‘Yep,’ Ava says, grinning.
‘And you're so beautiful,’ Stevie says, eyes shiny with tears.
And Ava believes her.