The puddles splashed every time her heel hit the ground, leaving the hem of her shorts soaked. The air was dark, cool, and damp, but her skin was hot and dripping with sweat. Her head started to pound with every step, but stopping was not an option. ‘Just keep running.’ Her vision slowly became blurred, but she followed the white line on the edge of the pavement. Still focused on the ground, she turned the last corner of her of the route. As she looked up again, all she could see were two blinding lights, just yards in front of her, coming closer and closer. Headlights.

A year had passed since her first day. The day everything started to change.

Sarah was woken by the sound of her alarm. In a daze, she glanced at the clock. 7:15 am. Slightly confused, she was suddenly awoken by the thrill of the thought of her first day. She rolled out of bed and went straight into her closet. She picked up the sweatpants lying on the ground and put them on, leaving the drawstring hanging. She opened her drawer and threw on a sports bra and t-shirt, ran her fingers through her auburn hair, brushed her teeth, grabbed her backpack and a granola bar and was out the door.
Sarah took her younger brother, Ben, out to the bus stop and waited. The first bus came and picked Ben up, and he eagerly boarded, anxious to see his friends again. Once Sarah’s bus arrived, her heart was pulsing quickly. She climbed on, and made her way to the empty window seat in the first row. With every stop, she anxiously waited for someone to take the empty seat next to her – but that moment never came. She felt her stomach drop as the bus drove past her old middle school. It felt weird driving right past it. Her eyes were glued to it until disappeared out of sight behind trees. In her head, she began to replay the memories she had there with her friends. ‘Friends. I won’t have friends here.’ This thought alone alarmed her to no end, and played through her mind for the rest of the drive. Once they reached school, she, along with everyone else, got off the bus. She followed the crowd across the courtyard pavement to the main building, but remained silent and isolated in her own world.
Her mind racing, she walked through the old, creaky door. Suddenly, the group she had walked in with had suddenly dispersed and the sound of lockers closing, shoes squeaking, chatter, and laughter became piercing. Just ahead of her in the hallway she spotted a sign hanging by two pieces of string pathetically taped to the beam, the word “Schedules” written in Sharpie. As she got to the back of the line, she began to look around. Everyone was in groups and pairs, chitchatting and laughing about everything – and everyone.
The line shuffled forward and a girl joined behind Sarah. They made eye contact, smiled, and both looked back down at the ground before the other was able to exchange a single word. ‘Maybe it won’t be that bad,’ Sarah thought and sighed a breath of relief.
She refocused her attention to the waves of passing people. Sarah was almost star struck in everyone’s presence. Certain girls passed by in dresses, while others just in jeans. Regardless of appearance, they all seemed to have a protruding sense of confidence and happiness, which Sarah found intimidating. Awkwardly shifting her weight between feet, she looked down and examined her sweatpants, t-shirt, and orange ragged converse.
She eventually reached the front of the line, where she received her locker assignment, class schedule, and map. With just five minutes until class started, she oriented herself on the map and tried to find the building her first period, Spanish, was in. By the time she found it on the map, she made a beeline for the classroom – speed walking through crowds and buildings. She checked her phone more and more often as she walked, desperately trying to get there on time. She found the classroom with a minute to spare, and took the only remaining seat – front and center.
The bell rang and the middle-aged teacher, Senorita Lopez, stood up from her desk. She took a quick glance from one edge of the classroom to the other and began pacing along the front of the room, speaking solely in Spanish. Sarah, who had only taken novice Spanish at her old school, was completely baffled. She remained attentive, but only caught every few words. After a short, yet confusing, introduction, Senorita Lopez turned attention over to students. The girl at the end of Sarah’s row started to talk, which was all foreign to her. She spoke flawlessly; almost as flawless as the way she looked. The person next to her then did the same, and so on. Sarah paid close attention to what the students were saying verbatim, desperately trying to figure out what she was supposed to say when it was her turn. Despite her effort, Sarah’s level of Spanish was apparent to the rest of the class. Her brief statement was followed by an undertone of chatter, which she couldn’t help but think was directed at her. Humiliated, Sarah stared at the clock, desperately waiting for the clock to strike 9:30 and the bell to end her misery.
When the bell finally rang, Sarah was the first out the door. Her next class, Geometry, was a little better than Spanish had been. For one, it was in English. The same girl from Spanish, Ashley, came in and took a seat at the circular table next to Sarah. For one of the first times all day, Sarah broke her silence.
“Hey! You’re new here, right?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Oh, cool! I’m Ashley. Do you like it so far?”
“I’m Sarah. Yeah, it’s alright, I guess.”
Ashley smiled, and then glanced at the door. The rest of her friends waltzed into the room, and Sarah soon found herself alone again.
The beginning of Sarah’s day served as a base for the rest. The meaningless conversations and embarrassment continued, she spent lunch alone in the hall, and she couldn’t have been happier when the final bell rang after history class. She walked out of the classroom and rejoined the sea of people making their way to the doors. She got on her bus, alone, and stared vacantly out the window until they reached her bus stop. Sarah walked through the house, exchanging as few words as possible, and closed the door to her room.
“Ben! Saaaarah!” her mom yelled up the stairs, “Dinner’s ready!”
Without replying, Sarah walked out of her room and down the stairs. Her face was blank and it was obvious to her mom that something was wrong – but very apparent that Sarah didn’t want to talk about it.
Sarah set the table and sat down with her mom and waited for Ben and her dad to join them.
“So how was your day?,” Sarah’s mom asked, “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you after school, you looked busy.”
Sarah hesitated, “good.”
“Really?”
“yup.”
“Well I’m glad! I was worried. Do you think you’re going to like your classes?”
“yeah,” she mumbled, as she took a sip of water.
Her mom raised her eyebrows and shot her the look. The mom look. “What about friends? Did you make any friends?”
‘Friends.’
Sarah frantically searched her mind for something more than a single word answer – anything to avoid getting the look again.
“Well, I met this girl…I think her name was Ashley.”
‘Ha, I think,’ Sarah thought. In reality, she could recall every detail. Every word, what she was wearing, everything.
“Oh, that’s good. What is she like?” Sarah’s mom asked.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Ben walked into the dining room.
“HEY MOM, YOU’LL NEVER GUESS WHAT ME AND JEFF DID TODAY!” and he was off, barely pausing to breathe.
Ben was still laughing to himself and telling stories, and the family served themselves and started eating. Ben, shoveling a taco into his mouth between sentences, kept their parents entertained and Sarah happily faded into the background.
After dinner was over, Sarah put her plate in the sink and left the rest of her family to clean up the kitchen.
“What’s wrong with her?” her dad asked.
“Not a clue, she’s been in a bad mood since she got home. She hasn’t said ten words,” said her mom.
“Sarah? Only ten words? Impossible. HA.” Ben chimed in.

Sarah’s alarm went off at 7:15 again the next morning, and she immediately dreaded going back. She got ready – sweatpants, t-shirt, converse – and headed out the door with her brother to the bus stop. Just like the day before, she said goodbye to Ben, and waited for her bus. She sat alone, once again, and the rest of her day was similar to the previous. She remained confused, intimidated, and alone.
On the bus ride home, her mind trailed back to the year before and left her completely confused. ‘What happened? Last year was amazing. How has so much changed?’
Desperate to make a change, the next day her alarm woke her an hour early. She went through her clothes one by one, pushing each hanger to the side as she was trying to make up her mind. The pile of clothes on the floor grew bigger and bigger with every outfit she tried on, but after what felt like eternity, she finally settled on a dress. She came across the high-heels she was forced to wear last year for her aunt’s wedding in the back of her closet. ‘Perfect.’ She strapped on her glittery high-heels and zipped up her pastry-like dress and looked in the mirror. ‘They’ll love it.’ She stroked her face in the mirror and started to cover her face in powder. She bent over and put her face even closer. With a wobbly hand, she traced her eyelid in black eyeliner, followed by mascara. Next, she took out her mother’s old curling iron. She wrapped strands of hair around it, one by one, with her fingers occasionally slipping and hitting the barrel, burning them. She stepped back, took one last look in the mirror, and left for school before her mother could say a word about her new, completely different appearance.
Sarah stepped off the bus, held her head high, threw her shoulders back, put a smile on her face, adjusted her hair, and walked through the doors. Throughout the day, much to her despair, not much seemed to change. During Geometry, Sarah kept her attention focused on Ashley and her friends. ‘Why did I have to mess that up? I had one shot to talk to her. One. Maybe we could have become friends. But no, I had to screw it all up.’ With this idea in mind, Sarah opened herself up; she tried to look good, and tried to make conversation, but it all seemed to fail. She still spent her time alone and watching the crowds pass by.
Days passed. Days became weeks, and weeks became months. Something needs to change, Sarah thought. After school one day, she rushed to her room and pulled out an old, beat-up spiral notebook out of her closet and found a pen on the floor. Before she knew it, a collection of words found their way onto the paper. Stupid. Ugly. Pathetic. Worthless. She pulled her computer out and logged onto Facebook. She pulled up one girl’s profile, then the next. She scrolled through every single picture, and kept thinking about everything she saw at school that day. Nicer. Prettier. Funnier. Smarter. Skinnier. Words kept flowing onto the page. She felt her breath shorten as one last word came to mind. Better.
Everyone around her just seemed…better. At everything. There were the girls who looked amazing, no matter what. They were all skinny and pretty and perfect. Perfect bodies, perfect clothes, perfect faces. Then there were the guys that were head-over-heels for them, which wasn’t surprising. There were the people in gym that seemed like they could do anything. There were the seniors, who were just overall superior. There were the people in Spanish class who were so smart, the ones who started to giggle when Sarah tried to speak. Above all, there was Ashley. The amazing girl who was everything; she was pretty, she was smart, she was nice. And then there was Sarah.
‘There is nothing I can do,’ she thought. ‘Absolutely nothing. It’s too late to make friends. I can’t make myself be smarter. Or prettier. Or better. Nothing.’
Tears started to fill her eyes. A single teardrop finally trickled down her cheek, soon followed by more. She leaned over the edge of her bed and grabbed her headphones. The lyrics impounded themselves into her brain and she sang in her head, the volume growing louder and louder with every song, tears still flowing down her cheeks.
‘I can’t switch schools, but I can’t go back. I’m trapped.’
By now, the music was at a deafening level, and Sarah could barely hear herself think – but that’s what she wanted. She took out her computer and flipped back to Facebook. Scrolling through people’s pictures, she noticed one in particular of Ashley. Amazing, unbelievable, perfect Ashley. It must have been from over the summer; she was standing on the beach with giant sunglasses, wearing a bikini. Sarah looked at the picture, rolled her shirt up a few inches over her stomach and looked down at herself. ‘Fat.’
Before she knew it, that thought took over. She found herself in her bathroom with a pile of clothes beside her, eyes closed, stepping on the scale. After a few seconds, she looked down at the ground. 134. One hundred and thirty four pounds. Suddenly, everything she had eaten that day came to her mind; a bagel, granola bar, sandwich, chips, soda. Sarah wiped a tear, put her clothes back on, and went into her room. She grabbed the pen and notebook and wrote the letters F, A, and T in giant print underneath the list. She circled it, closed the notebook, and shoved it under her bed.
It wasn’t long before she was called to dinner, and Sarah joined her family in the dining room. For the first time, the thought of food alone made her stomach drop. The images of Ashley and all the other girls played through her mind as her mom handed her a bowl. The rest of her family started eating, but Sarah was in a straight stare at the bowl of pasta in front of her. If she didn’t eat, her family would notice…but if she did eat, she would feel terrible after. After much hesitation, she looked up to see her mom looking at her suspiciously. She picked up the fork, and managed to start eating slowly. After the first few bites, she pushed the thoughts out of her mind and was put at ease. She ate the rest of the meal normally – but Sarah remained quiet. They finished dinner and Sarah helped clean the kitchen before returning to her room.
Sarah closed her bedroom door, and her mind started racing about the food she had just eaten. Unable to control it, she thought about the words she wrote on the paper and the pictures of Ashley. One idea popped into her mind and stuck with her; she couldn’t get rid of it.
With her mind racing, Sarah walked into the bathroom. She shut the door, turned the lock, and got on her knees in front of the toilet. She stared into the empty toilet bowl, thinking about what was next. Her eyes filled with tears as she leaned over it and put two fingers down the back of her throat. The next ten minutes were filled with nothing but fear as she watched her dinner reappear. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and flushed the toilet, and watched her thoughts disappear down the drain. She washed her hands and cracked the bathroom door. With her hands trembling, she checked the hallway – the coast was clear. She rushed out the door and back into her room.
The days continued to pass by. Despite the internal torture she endured at school, the thought of what she would do that night kept her going. She remained silent on the outside, but on the inside, her mind was screaming. She got home from school, went for a run, did homework as usual, and then joined her family for dinner – and for once, was present in conversation. Without hesitation, she scarfed down her meal, gulping water between bites – only to see it all disappear again.
‘Once a day,’ Sarah thought, ‘that’s not too bad. It’ll be fine.’
During math class, Sarah’s teacher walked around the classroom and passed back the latest test. Sarah’s eyes widened as she saw the mark at the top of her paper. 68% was written in red ink, and it burned into her mind. ‘Sixty-eight. In math. MATH. My best subject – this can’t be right.’ Sarah flipped through the pages, which were all covered in ink. To much dismay, the grade on the top was correct. Sarah made it through her next few classes, but couldn’t get the grade out of her head.
The bell rang, which meant it was time for lunch. She was still trying to calm herself down, and the same thoughts kept playing through her head. ‘It’s one grade, Sarah. Calm down. It doesn’t mean anything.’
Sarah knew this was a lie. She ate her lunch alone, and then found herself in the last stall of the girls’ bathroom – the one no one ever used. She looked underneath the stall door and saw feet, and waited until she was alone. The second the door closed, her knees hit the ground.
She breathed a sigh of relief once everything was up. ‘Just one time. That was it. I’ll never do it at school again. I just - I just had to. It’s fine, Sarah. Just calm down,’ she told herself.
What she had done haunted her for the remainder of the day. It felt weird, but it felt good – and that was all Sarah cared about.
Dinner that night was the same as it always was – and her parents suspected nothing. She was lively and engaged in conversation, and they had practically forgotten about how she had felt at the beginning of the year. I guess I’ve gotten better at hiding, she thought. Sarah fled the room after dinner, and did it again.
A few days had passed by, and one day at lunch, the thought of what she had done a few days ago crossed her mind. Doing it at school was such a terrifying thought, but on the other hand, it made school so much more bearable. It was constantly on her mind, but she no longer had to wait until dinner. This way seemed safer; she didn’t have to worry about her parents or brother hearing anything or finding out. ‘An extra time a day couldn’t be a bad thing, right?’ Ashley crossed her mind. ‘Nope, definitely not a bad thing. A little more calm and a few less calories.’ Perfect. She walked into the bathroom, and locked the door to the same stall.
Sarah kept doing it both at school and at home, and it certainly started to show. One night, she sat down in front of her closet door and stared at herself in the mirror. Her skin was pale and icy. Eyes were bloodshot and still filled with tears from what she had just done. Lips were chapped. Despite everything, it was worth it. She got off the floor and curled up in bed. Her eyes started to close and she glanced at the clock: 7:38. ‘I’ll just close my eyes for a second,’ she thought. She was woken by the sound of her alarm the next morning. Sarah looked around disoriented; she laying horizontally on the edge of her bed, still wearing her clothes from the previous day. ‘Guess I fell asleep, whoops.’ She got up, changed her shirt, and was on her way to school.
At lunch that day, she walked into the same deserted bathroom stall, got on her knees, and felt her phone vibrate. Assuming it was her mom, she ignored it and forced her lunch back up. As she was about to walk through the bathroom door back into the hallway, she pulled out her phone and opened the text message. It was from a restricted number and said: “herd u yesterday – plz don’t do it again.” In a panic, she walked outside and looked from side to side around the hallway. There was no one around.
Later that night, she received another message: “it’s sarah, right?” Sarah was terrified to reply, but did anyways.
“Who are you?”
The conversation proceeded slowly: day by day, text by text.
The third message came through, “Can’t tell u.”
“Why not?”
A fourth appeared the next day: “cause.”
Sarah remained completely confused. Someone knew – and seemed to be watching her – but wouldn’t reveal themselves. Sarah typed, “but you know me.”
The response showed up a few days later, but brought nothing to Sarah. It read: “ya, I do. and u need to stop.”
‘What? They don’t know me. They don’t know that I need to stop. It’s none of their business.’ Sarah had no idea how else to reply to this, so she simply wrote “why?” She waited days, but received no reply.
There was someone in the school that knew her secret. They knew who she was, but she had no idea who it could be. And how did they get her phone number? No one from school had it. The only person that seemed to even know her name was Ashley, but it didn’t seem like it could be her. There were hundreds of girls in the school; it could be anyone. This thought filled her with terror. The whole event was creepy, but in some ways, she no longer felt alone. There was someone out there who knew, and seemed to care – even if she had no idea who it was. School became slightly more bearable, but didn’t stop her.
The whole process became more and more consistent; she was eating as little as possible, and when she did, nothing stayed down. Despite the little amounts of food, she forced herself to run. It was a quick method to get away, to ignore the pain, and, above all, burn calories. Even if her head was pounding, stomach aching, and fingers tingling.
A few days had passed, and Sarah had almost forgotten about mysterious texts, she received one that said:
“You’re killing yourself.”
This stopped Sarah in her tracks. She could do nothing but stare at the screen.
‘Am I really? Killing myself? That sounds so harsh. There’s no way.’ Her thoughts started to trail off. ‘…But what If I am? Would it be that bad? I’d be out of here. Out of this school. Out of my family. Out of my head. Maybe I’m already half way there.’
Sarah didn’t reply to that text, and a new one never appeared, but Sarah kept it saved on her phone.
Months had passed Sarah’s last class of the day was history, and they were watching a documentary. The lights were out, and it started to drizzle. Sarah focused her attention to the water droplets hitting the window and dripping down, trying to ignore her aching stomach. She had come across the text earlier that day, and kept it up on the screen. She fiddled with her phone the entire class as her mind drifted elsewhere – to the scissors sitting on her desk. To the pills in her bathroom drawer. To the food she wouldn’t keep down. It all seemed to be calling her name, and she didn’t even care.
After history, she got on her bus. She went home, and, like everyday, went for a run.
The puddles splashed every time her heel hit the ground, leaving the hem of her shorts soaked. The air was dark, cool, and damp, but her skin was hot and dripping with sweat. Her head started to pound with every step, but stopping was not an option. ‘Just keep running.’ Her vision slowly became blurred, but she followed the white line on the edge of the pavement. Still focused on the ground, she turned the last corner of her of the route. As she looked up again, all she could see were two blinding lights, just yards in front of her, coming closer and closer. Headlights.

She jumped to the side.