*blushes modestly* Why, thank you:D You guys are too nice :D

Do you really think we're going to say it's bad?? No, it's great. I would change it to "Are those all the clothes you've got?" and "These are all the clothes I have" though. And "all right" is always two words. Just cause you asked for criticism... :D

Scene a la Amy: 

I pull Liam’s sweatshirt over my head and hold it in front of me in my hands. Great. Now I’ll have to go back and find him, and give it back to him, apologizing for acting like a real idiot. I’m still holding the sweatshirt in my hands when a voice behinds me causes me to look up.            “Well don’t just look at it, put it back on! I didn’t give you that sweatshirt for nothing, you know.” Liam is standing behind me, hands stuff loftily in his jeans pockets. He’s grinning a bit.            “You?” I feel like slapping myself on the forehead. No, it wouldn’t be Liam at all. Just a random guy that walked up to me on the street. Right. Nice thinking, Amy.            “When you got off the train, it wasn’t that hard to follow you,” he laughs slightly, “Plus, you still had my sweatshirt. I sure wasn’t going to let you walk off in that.” I can’t tell if he’s serious or not, so I don’t laugh. He punches my arm lightly, “Lighten up, Amy. It was a joke!”            I cock my head to one side, smiling a little, “Yes, but I can never be too careful. Here’s your sweatshirt back. You’ll probably want to go back to your stop now. Sorry that I made you miss it.”            He catches me by my arm again. “No way, I didn’t follow you for nothing. My sister actually lives close to here. You couldn’t have timed that better if it had been planned. We’ll go see her, and see what we can do about your little situation.”            Despite my protests, Liam insists on me wearing his sweatshirt on the way to his sister’s apartment. My legs are still freezing, but at least my top half is warm. By now my toes are numb enough that I can’t feel them anymore. I decide to be optimistic and look at the bright side. The bright side being, of course, that I can’t actually feel what might be a toe-threatening frost bite. I just hope they won’t bleed too much when they fall off. But there’s me going and being a pessimist again, so I focus on the tall buildings as we pass them.            There are a vast array of shops on the street we’re on, and I see one for everything from cafés to book stores. When I see the dancing shop, I run over to it on my unfeeling toes and press my nose against it like a child. Liam laughs good naturedly, offering that we go in.            “No, that’s okay,” I mutter. “Look at me, only a few hours after getting kicked out of one of the most prestigious performing arts schools around, already dithering over a few Pointe shoes and ribbons.” We continue down the street, but I can’t help but to glance back over my shoulder at the store when Liam isn’t looking.            When the apartment comes into view, it has to be the most welcome sight I’ve ever seen. Though it’s small and unadorned, identical in every way to the other buildings on this street, I can feel a vibe of happiness coming from it.            “I know it’s not much, but it’s all she can afford right now,” Liam says apologetically.            “You’re apologizing to me?” I laugh out loud, “Apologizing to the practically homeless random dancer that you met on the subway? Because your sister’s apartment isn’t exactly the Taj Mahal?” I’m nearly in stitches by the time he realizes the irony of it all. We’re both laughing and holding our stomachs when a girl who looks about twenty comes out on the front driveway.            “Liam is that you? Who’s that with you? Get in here, both of you, or you’ll catch your death out there.” She’s hip and cool, but with a motherly feeling about her. Not two things you’d expect to go together, but somehow they seem to fit her.            “I’m Tanya,” she has a firm handshake. Her fingernails are painted black, with neon bursts of color splattered on them. “I see you’ve met my brother.” She shoots Liam a look, “Who’s got some explaining to do.”            And that’s how I ended up recounting my life’s story for the second time that day. Tanya reacts differently to the story than Liam had. She doesn’t dote over me or feel sorry; she just nods and urges me on. By the time I’m finished, she has a stubborn look on her face, the kind that I used to wear when I was ready to fight with Mother.            “Of course you’ll stay here,” she says it like it’s the most obvious solution.            “Are-are you sure? I mean, you don’t even know me. I’m just some random girl that your brother met on the subway. What is it with you people and your generosity?! I could be a druggie for all you know! Or an axe murderer!”            “Well are you?” Tanya seems genuinely curious.            “Of course not! But that’s not my point-“ Tanya and Liam are laughing, so I don’t finish my thought.             “We don’t care that we don’t know you, Amy. If you’re really an axe murderer, than you must be a pretty smart one to be able to make up a story that sad. Sure it’s a risk, but it’s one we’re willing to take. Look at it this way: You’re also taking a risk by staying here in my apartment. Maybe I’m the psychopathic one, and I’ll kill you in your sleep tonight. We’re both taking a risk, opening up to each other. But I’m willing to if you are,” I want to trust Tanya, just the way I wanted to trust Liam on the subway.             “I guess you’re right,” I murmur. Then louder, “My life is becoming more and more like a bad Hollywood movie.” And that sends us all to stitches again.            That night I’m watching TV in Tanya’s living room, in a pair of her pajamas, and she’s sitting behind me, braiding my short hair in a million braids. It’s like a regular sleepover. I groan at this thought, but I’m enjoying myself despite the artificialness of everything. We’re eating popcorn from a bright orange bowl that’s next to me on the floor. I’ve come to discover that Tanya’s house is not as drab as it looks from the outside. It’s decorated in bright colors and fun, spunky decorations. She strikes me as the fun-loving type.            I’ve found out that Tanya is twenty-one, and she’s goes to a local college. She’s studying to get a degree in engineering, which struck me as odd. Tanya seems like the sort that doesn’t want to be confined. She’s got dark hair that’s almost shorter than mine, that’s streaked with deep purples and reds. A diamond stud protrudes from her nose, and she says that tomorrow she’s going to get her belly button pierced, and I can come and get mine done as well, if I want. I haven’t given her an answer on that yet. She claims that she has a tattoo, but she won’t show it to me, so I’m guessing that it’s a) in a place that doesn’t often see daylight, or b) something embarrassing, like the name of an ex.            I feel only mildly uncomfortable, sitting with this girl I barely know in the flickering light of the television. I like Tanya already, and am intrigued with her mystic yet bubbly personality. The silence is only a little strained, so I break it with a question.            “What sort of belly ring are you going to wear? Like those dangly ones, or just a little stud or ring,” I crane my neck around to look at her. I’m sore from dancing earlier, but it’s a good sore. I haven’t cried since I sat in the hallway. The ache is starting to dull down inside of me, blending together with the other pains that I’ve had in my life. If you can’t let them all go, pretty soon the pain will kill you. So you dull them all, to a bearable point that won’t hold you down anymore.            “A stud or ring, definitely. Those long ones are gross! They look like you’ve got some ivy growing out of your belly button or something!” We’re giggling now, like little third grade girls, and though it’s not that funny, it helps to break some of the tension in the room.            “How about you?” she continues, “Have you decided yet?” It’s an impulse on my part, but I’m feeling rebellious.             “Of course I will,” I jut my chin out. “I’ll get a stud that matches yours.” Tanya nods.            “Yes, then when summer comes around we’ll have to go to the beach together, whether or not you’re still staying with me! And we can wear matching bikinis and….” She stops, uncomfortable about something.            “What’s wrong?”            “Oh, I was just wondering…well, are you okay with all that? Like us wearing bikinis together and stuff?” I’m confused for a moment, then it all fits together, a blatantly obvious puzzle that I’d failed miserable to solve.            “Oh, you mean my,” it’s still hard to say the word after all this time. “You mean my anorexia, don’t you?” The tension is back in the room again, but different this time. It’s not just a lack of familiarity with each other; it’s the memory that’s standing on the edges, the third wheel forcing its way into an already awkward conversation.            “Yeah, I’ll be okay. I mean, I still get it sometimes, but it never lasts very long, you know? I’ll lose maybe five pounds or so, but then I’ll get over it. It was just that one really big bout of it when I was about fifteen. It felt so horrible. But, but powerful at the same time. It’s like it’s a drug. You know how bad it is for you, but it makes you feel so good. But I think I’ll be fine for a while. I’m weaning myself off of those little spells of it. I’m almost completely back to normal.”            Tanya’s nodding now, understanding, and I think how good it feels to have taken off that mask already. I can feel my real self breathing again, flourishing in the fact that it’s not hidden from the world anymore. The third wheel that is my harsh memory is backing out of the room now, leaving quietly. I’m glad for its absence.            She finishes the last braid and efficiently wraps the end in a neon rubber band. I stand and walk to the bathroom, feeling my hair as I go. I love the bathroom mirror that Tanya has; it’s shaped like a sunburst, rimmed in black and silver twining. My face, framed by it, looks impossibly gaunt and sunken. My eyes are not quite so sad as before, however, and my blonde hair is shining from its thousand braids like spun gold. And for the first time ever, I see the beauty in myself. As malnourished and tangled as it is, it’s there, and when I see it for the first time in that sunburst of a mirror, I see other things. I have my mother’s eyes, in more ways than one. It’s not just the green that’s on the surface, but the pain down deep. I’ve also got her cheekbones and tiny, full lips. I’ve got my father’s hair, blonde and silky.            I don’t notice Tanya standing behind me in the mirror until she shifts quietly.            “You’re a pretty girl, Amy. I’m sure your parents have told you that before though,” she smiles carefully, hoping to cheer me up. But I’m feeling bitter and scornful.            “No. No, they haven’t ever told me I was beautiful. They’ve never told me I was a good dancer, or that I was smart or talented or anything. Mother was just constantly telling me how I could always be better.” I’ve stunned her into silence now, but my anger has died down a little bit, like a campfire that’s clinging to the last burning embers. So I douse it with something sure to cheer me back up.            “Sorry, I’m just…just a little sensitive, that’s all. Liam said you were interested in learning dance. Maybe, maybe I could teach you to help pay off some of my rent?”  Tanya’s eyes light up at this, and I feel the fire inside of me fizzle and die.            “Yes! That would be great!” she grabs my hand and leads me towards her room with tangible zeal.             Her room has bright walls and is adorned with beads and posters. It’s ideal for dancing, with a large empty space in the center of the floor, the bed and wardrobe pushed off to the side. Besides those, her room is startlingly empty. The only other piece of furniture is a round chair in the corner and a lamp above that.  She pulls a boom box out of the closet and places it on the floor of her room, plugging it into an electrical socket.               “Well, what sort of dancing do you want to learn? I’m best in Contemporary, but I can do Ballet, Hip Hop and Jazz as well.”            She considers for a moment, then says, “Hip Hop, definitely.” I flip through a CD book that she’s laid out on the floor, and pop one into the boom box. As the music begins and I start teaching Tanya to dance, I can almost forget about what happened today. I can almost forget about Brandy and Chelsea and Josh and nearly freezing my toes off on the subway. Almost.