Lindsay guessed it had started when she decided to quit soccer; that was sign number one that she wasn’t the cookie cutter perfect daughter. Sign number two was sex with a disgusting excuse for a man before marriage, and well, that was just unfathomable for Mr. and Mrs. White-Picket-Fence. It’s not like she didn’t miss soccer. She did! Oh, how every fiber in her body desperately wanted to feel the wind rushing through her hair, to slide her feet in broken-into cleats, to let it all go, and to hear the wild cheers of friends and family on the sidelines. But those silly games weren’t tolerated by Sammy. It was either cheer leading or nothing, he’d said. Rah rah sis boom, you’re an ass, please go kaboom. But she did it. she became his perfect porcelain doll in a perfect glass case. Until she wasn’t perfect anymore. Lindsay buried her head in her pillow and waited for the footsteps to come closer. Her mascara was already smudged enough to make her look like a raccoon. “How’s she doing?” Her mother’s voice sent Lindsay’s heart racing. She hadn’t heard that voice in a solid two months. Dr. Farnsworth answered that she was fine, making solid progress. Her mother spoke next, with a slow, hollow voice: “We’re allowed to bring food in here, right? I made her favorite, double fudge brownies. There’s no way she’ll be able to resist.” “She won’t eat them. When was the last time you saw her have dessert?” Richard’s voice held no patience. “Well. Maybe that’ll change once she sees them.” Denial. Farnsworth said that was the first stage of grief. Anger came next. Lindsay her dad would claim that stage. They walked into the room, one by one. Lindsay felt like she was in a fishbowl. A broken fish, whose fins were just barely hanging on. Her mom came up first, her normally flushed cheeks ghastly pale. Was she crying? Lindsay studied her face closer. She was. Christina Herkins never cried. she was stoic and fearless, and... “Hi, Linds,” she said softly. Stoic, fearless, and gripping Lindsay so tightly she couldn’t breathe. “Let’s take you home,” she whispered. The purple-shuttered town house jumped out at Lindsay like it was the first thing anybody saw. The front door and shutters were awfully hard not to notice. Lindsay had painted it a few years back along with her older sister Sondra, in hopes of showing grand artistic talent. It was astounding to her then, but now with Sondra away in New York, being a bigshot ballerina, Lindsay didn’t want to look at it anymore. She shifted her gaze and stepped cautiously out of the minivan. Not much had changed. The cherry tree was still crawling towards her bedroom window. The address sign on the mailbox was still hanging crookedly to the left. Lindsay remembered that thing was the bane of her mother’s existence. There were so many nights where she’d hammered dozens of nails to the sign, but it didn’t matter. The next morning, it would revert back to its old position, like it was begging for some disorder to be left in their household. Even the delicately trimmed flowerbed was the same, with daffodils on the left and tiger lilies on the right. They were itching to be in full bloom. It wasn’t until Lindsay entered the glowing foyer of the house that she realized the red tulips were missing. Tulips were her favorite flower. “We had to move some stuff in your room so that your Aunt Tina could stay here. We couldn’t afford to send her to a hotel,” Christina lied. It wasn’t about the money. It never was. Lindsay’s parents had at least twenty grand sitting in the bank, untouched. But the bedroom, that was different. What would they say to all their dinner party friends, when they saw an empty room suspiciously fit for a 16 year old girl? “Oh, that’s just our daughter, she lives at the hospital,” Lindsay pictured her parents saying, “anorexia. Been battling it for months now.” No, that didn’t make for very nice dinner table conversation. It was easier just to start over with a simple guestroom. Lindsay walked to her desk like she was underwater, and sat down. She didn’t know what to do anymore, with her parents hovering like this. She didn’t know how to just be. Lindsay’s dad looked lost. He stayed silent and stroked his clean-shaven chin while Christina added, “but we changed the sheets and everything, just before you got here.” Lindsay stepped in, and saw just how odd it was for her life to be converted to a stranger’s. It looked like her room, but it didn’t smell or feel like it. Being here, she felt like a hundred years went by, but also like time stopped. A bunch of boxes were packed and stowed away; posters and photos were ripped off the pearly white walls. The Beauty and the Beast bedspread disappeared, replaced with a character-less white comforter. “We hope you understand.” Christina’s voice filled the uncomfortable silence. “Those hospital bills do skyrocket,” Richard added. “Richard,” Christina warned. Richard stayed silent. “ We really don’t mind about the money, sweetie. And if there’s any thing we can get you, just let us know,” Christina said with false enthusiasm. “Thanks, but I just feel like sleeping now.” Lindsay couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t exhausted. “Right, of course you’re tired. You’ve had a long day,” she confirmed, like it was the correct thing to say. “We’ll let you rest,” Christina continued, “just be sure to be up in a few hours for dinner. Your sister is coming all the way from New York, so we’re making something special.” That wasn’t the real reason they were making something special, but Lindsay appreciated the cover up. It made her feel somewhat normal. “Oh, and be sure to drink all your fluids, too.” But the attempts at normalcy were blown by Christina’s urge to care. “I don’t think she’s strong enough.” “Please Mrs. Herkins, I just want to-” It had taken Lindsay hours to fall in and out of sleep. She wasn’t sure if she was awake, or just hearing voices of the past. “I need to see if she’s all right.” The anxious squeak was too real to be dreamt up. Lindsay followed the conversation down to the foot of the stairs, where Olivia was tapping her foot and peering up the hallway. Lexi was standing right next to her, looking lost and uncomfortable. Lindsay always recognized how pretty Olivia was; she and Lexi envied her cute blond ringlets and perfect hourglass figure that boys swooned over. Even though Lindsay could look down and see the skin and bones she had turned into, she saw how effortlessly Olivia pulled off curves. It looked natural on her. Lindsay thought it might be nice to look like that, if the extra fat didn’t seem so chunky and fall on all the wrong places, unlike Olivia. But here, Olivia wasn’t just that. She was life itself. Energy emanated from her. Color flushed over her cheeks. The only thing that struck Lindsay as fake was the self-conscious grin that Olivia displayed when she saw her limp shell of a friend come down the stairs. She tried to disguise her shock and initiate a hug, but retracted, perhaps thinking the “condition,” as the Doctors called it, was contagious. Olivia was charitable. She was the type of girl who bought cookies from the Girl Scouts and brought them over to her starving friends. But Lexi, she was colder, especially if you knew her on the surface. She required some pushing and prodding to come around. What she was doing inside the house of the girl she despised, Lindsay didn’t know. Yet she couldn’t help looking fondly at the painfully mismatched outfit Lexi had thrown together, even after all those rainy afternoons the threesome had spent shopping at the mall. Lexi’s black Skillet sweater hung crookedly over an orange shirt that was fit for a prison fugitive. Lindsay recalled playing Tug-Of-War with that shirt with Olivia. How had it been repaired? Lexi smirked when she saw Lindsay inspecting her, and Lindsay threw her head in the other direction. She didn’t want Lexi to know she was looking at her, trying to get a better sense of how she felt. It was hard to care. Lindsay wished she didn’t. It would cause much less pain. Lindsay mechanically asked Olivia to come upstairs. It was stilted and awkward. She felt her lips moving, but her words fizzed in her brain. By now, they usually would have raced up to Lindsay’s room, flung themselves on the bed, and disintegrated in front of America’s Next Top Model. They would make fun of whichever contestant was whining about “not being here to make friends.” Now that wasn’t possible. It was one of the forbidden shows that would “establish a negative body image.” In Lindsay’s mind, the rule would always be phony enough to deserve mental air quotes. Olivia fidgeted with a ruby ring she had given Lindsay for her birthday. They were twelve then, and just had to have matching birthstones, all for their July birthdays. It was the kind of thing that takes priority when you’re twelve. “You look...um...” Olivia trailed off. Like death, Lindsay finished silently. Olivia shifted her weight and prompted Lexi to step closer to Lindsay. Lexi moved about half an inch, looking like she was enduring torture the whole time. “You want to...?” Olivia gestured towards the item Lexi was holding. She stiffly presented a petite soccer trophy to Lindsay. It took her a few moments to actually hand it over. The trophy was a sign of courage and loyalty, which were all traits a quitter didn’t have. Yet here Lexi was, offering the trophy to one. A quitter. “The team thought you should get one,” she said, “we didn’t make it to championships, but semi-finals won us those things.” Lindsay whispered a thank you. Lexi played with the loose string on her sweater. “Anyway, I gotta run, Mom’s sick,” Lexi said in one breath, “hope you feel better. Dad knows a lot of high-falootin’ therapists if you ever want to give him a call.” Before Lindsay could respond with a “thanks, but no thanks,” Lexi flew down the stairs. Lexi always knew how to hold a grudge. It was a trait Lindsay admired in her, back when she was too soft to hold her own and say no. But Lexi also had said, promised, that she would be there for her best friends no matter what came between them. “But promises can’t be kept for wimps who abandon their team for some stupid d bag,” she’d said that one night. The words still haunted Lindsay. Olivia swiftly moved on to the best gossip she assumed Lindsay was dying to catch up on. The senior class staged a protest for taking away their precious skip day. Homecoming King and Queen got caught drinking in the back of a car. A cute basketball player Lindsay met once got dumped by his girlfriend. Hint hint, nudge nudge. Subtlety was never one of Olivia’s strong points. There was more, Olivia said, but she didn’t think Lindsay would want to hear it. If she didn’t want to hear it, why would Olivia bring it up? It was a very sly trap, indeed. “Did you see Sammy?” Lindsay asked. It was the first time she’d said his name out loud since the incident. “Oh, that a-hole? Yeah. A couple times. I mean, he does go to our school.” There was more to that story, but Lindsay didn’t ask for it. Her mother had just shown up with a plate of mini bagels and strawberry cream cheese. She slid it right next to Lindsay, whose mouth watered. She wanted more than anything to shove five of the bagels into her mouth at one time, but she turned away and resisted temptation. She could be stronger than that. She would be stronger than that. “Are you girls having a good time?” Christina asked. Lindsay nodded. It was what her mother needed to see. She lived off of Lindsay’s happiness, and was terrified of anything else. When Lindsay was happy, everything could finally fall into place in Christina’s perfect little world. It was a scary situation to put your daughter in. “Thanks Mrs. Herkins...for the food,” Olivia said cheerfully, popping a bagel into her mouth. She pretended it was just a coincidence that she was the only one eating. Christina slid out as easily as she came in, leaving the girls to “chit chat.” It was still mainly a one sided conversation. Olivia was careful not to continue the Sammy story, or to ask about Lindsay’s excursion to the hospital. Every conversation topic was a minefield. “We missed having you around here,” she said finally. She stated it as a fact, as easy as saying two plus two equaled four. Lindsay used to be the glue that held the girls together. With Lexi’s chaotic moods and Olivia’s need to never be stationary, Lindsay was steady and solid, keeping them afloat. But she had failed at that, and so, being missed couldn’t be taken for granted anymore. After Olivia went home, Lindsay gave the shiny trophy a good, long stare. The plaque was already gathering dust, but Lindsay didn’t bother to wipe it off. Just looking at the thing made her feel sick. The surge of anger came back, and the walls seemed to collapse onto her. Lindsay didn’t know whether to cry or scream. Maybe she would do both. She felt her body twitch and squirm, like it was already signaling weight gain. Lindsay saw herself as an abomination. A monster. Unwanted fat was resting on her hips. Lindsay pinched her stomach and screamed. Lindsay noted that screaming burned more calories, but not nearly enough to take the fat away. Finally, when there was no sound left in her, Lindsay opened her bedroom window and thrust the trophy outside. It landed with a crack on the driveway. Lindsay wished it had broken even more. She didn’t deserve to look at that trophy. Olivia was steady. By the looks of it, Lexi was steady. The only sinking ship was Lindsay. In a house of constant vigilance, Sondra was about as normal as a hailstorm in the desert. She was as loud as one, too. She was possibly the only other thing besides Lindsay that had changed. Glamour followed her calloused feet. Everything, for Sondra, was cause for a dramatic sigh and hair flip. Lindsay didn’t know this hair-flipping stranger. She didn’t want to know her. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was absolutely horrid.” Sondra leaped into the living room. “But everything smells mah-velous.” Absolutely horrid? Mah-velous? Lindsay reminded her sister that she was from New York, not England. Sondra chuckled. “Lindsay, always the jokester,” she said. Ew. Condescension. Being the younger sister did not automatically make you three years old. But starring in a ballet that made the New York Times front page apparently made you have to talk in a ridiculous British accent. So did having a boyfriend you met in London on tour. Mike. Michael. Michaelis. After every drink, the guy’s name got longer and Sondra got sillier. He was a producer. He was exquisite. He made the movie business seem just like heart surgery. Lindsay gagged. If this was what turning twenty one did to you, she would just stay sixteen forever. Sondra turned to Lindsay, and flashed her perfect teeth. “So. Lindsay. Got any exciting young men in your life?” “No, I’ve been pretty busy living in a cramped room and getting poked and prodded eight times a day.” Sondra didn’t even blink. “Ah, laying low for a while. Good choice.” Lindsay was about to say Michael probably didn’t think so, when the oven beeped. “Dinner!” Christina sang out. She carefully set the casserole dish on to the table, and admired her work. Christina wasn’t much of a cook, but it didn’t make her any less proud. she scooped out generous portions of lasagna onto everyone’s plate. Lindsay calculated how many jumping jacks she’d have to do to burn off the calories. 1,000 maybe? Christina slid a piece of overcooked chicken onto her plate. 1,600. At this rate, she’d be up all night. “Pass the wine,” Richard grunted. This was expected; there was never a night when he didn’t request the wine. That wasn’t true. Sometimes it was beer. After a really hard day at work, it was Vodka, but only after everyone was in bed, so he could drown himself in alcohol away from the public eye. Sondra began shoveling food into her mouth. She could take or leave the phony polite act, but put a home cooked meal in front of her, and all barriers were broken. It was comforting in some sickening way. “Sweetie, slow down, we have to say grace,” Christina told her daughter. Lindsay looked up. Everyone in the family held hands and shut their eyes. It was what normal families did. Lindsay peeked at the rest of the family and saw Sondra do the same. Sondra giggled as Lindsay quickly looked away. Christina took a deep breath. “Dear lord thank you for this good food, good family, good health. Amen.” “Amen.” Lindsay’s stomach churned. This was the part where she was supposed to take a bite. She cut up the food into dozens of tiny pieces, and put one forkful into her mouth. “Mmm,” she forced herself to say. She didn’t want this warm flavour to be shooting through her taste buds. You don’t want to eat that, think of what it’ll do to that cute stomach of yours. Lindsay quickly shut the voice away, but it was determined. They’re all weak. Be strong. Show them who you really are. Lindsay’s fork clattered on her plate. Stoppit, she told the voice, just stop. Out loud, Lindsay requested the salad. Christina passed it up to her with careful nonchalance, but she was pleased. Sondra reached for her second helping. “Careful sweetie, you don’t want to-” Christina started, but cringed when she saw Lindsay struggling with her second bite. “You know what, never mind.” Lindsay directed her attention back to the cheesy blob that was supposed to be inside her digestive system by now. It was losing its appeal as something edible. The stuff looked more like that canned meat people fed to their dog. Lindsay poked the salad with her knife. “I’m not hungry,” she said. The whole table stopped in their tracks, except Sondra, who was tapping her foot to the tune of “The Nutcracker.” Richard swallowed. “That’s just too damn bad; you’re going to eat anyway.” Was she really being sentenced to the lasagna gods? It seemed laughable that that was what her life had turned to: being captive to the dinner table until every bit was eaten. Sondra slid onto Lindsay’s chair and ordered her to move. She thought it was a sisterly move to make, but Lindsay just found it to be overcrowding and pushy. Sondra could usually bond so effortlessly, but in any emergency situation, she freaked. The memo had been passed that socialization was Lindsay’s medicine, and Sondra was not taking it lightly. “Lindsay, I have a story for you,” she said breathlessly. Her breath smelled like garlic. Lindsay tried not to gag. “Back before Mike’s big producing days...” Sondra interrupted herself to giggle, “he was his soccer team’s star player. I’m sure he could help you get back into the game if you’re interested.” Lindsay took a huge gulp of water. She wondered if her parents even told Sondra that her sister quit soccer. “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Lindsay said simply. “No?” Shock read all over Sondra’s face. She was the type of girl who, without any immediate purpose, didn’t see the point in life. Everything had to be divided and conquered. Sondra was straining to find the appropriate response. “I mean, he was really good. They were unbeatable because of Mike.” Lindsay used to be unbeatable. She remembered the feeling: the natural high that came with being invincible. Would she be able to find that feeling again? It was doubtful that was something you could learn in therapy. She turned to face Sondra. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m all set.” Sondra took it as a challenged. “With what, darling?” Lindsay gestured to the dry-erase calender Christina bought on their way home from picking up whole milk from the store. An SAT prep course was already lined up for the following two weeks. She had a dentist appointment the next day. Without anything substantial to fill the long afternoons, these were the only ways Christina could make sure her daughter stayed busy. “That’s your life?” Sondra scoffed, “standardized tests and fucking dentist appointments?” “Watch your language.” Richard pounded his fist on the table. Sondra didn’t even wince. “I will not ‘watch my language.’ Can’t you see what you’re doing to her? Don’t you see what she needs?” It was amazing how fast someone could opt out of their prim and proper persona when they found the protective older sister act. Richard clamped his wine glass and roared, “Don’t you go insinuating we don’t know how to take care of our daughter! We’re doing our damned best!” “Try harder,” was Sondra’s reply. Lindsay took the last bite of lasagna, even though it was frigid and lumpy. She felt bloated and disgusting. She needed to leave. “Can I go catch up on homework?” she asked softly. “In a minute. The only person leaving now is Sondra,” Richard insisted. Sondra stormed out of the kitchen and reached for her black faux-fur jacket. “Well, I’m sorry you two don’t like hearing the truth,” Sondra said before slamming the door. Five hours into Lindsay’s return, and she was already sending sister to New York. Nice.

A weekly visit to Dr. Farnsworth’s office was mandatory, but for the first time, Lindsay was glad this was so. It meant putting off her re-immersion into civilization. Or as civilized as a bunch of over hormonal teenagers could get.
The car roared to a start, and Lindsay let the idea flit across her head that maybe school would be more appealing to her if her friends were on speaking terms with her. Lindsay didn’t want to be popular, and she certainly didn’t want to be pitied, but who wanted to be that kid who sat alone in a corner? She had Olivia; at least that was something. But without Lexi in the mix, their friendship was about as meaningful as a ball of lint.
Lindsay’s phone buzzed. A new text message read: Movies Saturday!! U coming?
A very chatty ball of lint.
Lindsay sighed and and put her feet on the dashboard. It was something her mother hated, but she had yet to make a comment. Her head was busy being filled with things like doctors appointments, dying daughters, and other very grown up matters.
“Do you have anything in particular you want to talk to Dr. Farnsworth about?” Christina let the question slip out like they were discussing the weather.
She felt terrible for making Sondra leave. She hated her father’s guts. She missed her best friend. She wished the whole thing was a bad dream.
“Not really,” she said.

The first thing Lindsay saw back at the office was Callie the cutter. It was what they called her since day one. Callie never seemed to mind; she said she always wanted to have a nickname. That was her chance.
“Hey,” Callie grinned slyly, “they haven’t beat you to a pulp out there, huh?”
“Not yet,” Lindsay answered. Were they supposed to? Callie clawed at her arms with her lime green fingernails and winked knowingly. “They will.” Lindsay took a few steps back, letting the awkward silence sink in. When she lived here at Spring Meadows, Callie was an easy companion to handle, but from a distance, Lindsay saw just how disturbing the girl was. She rocked her heels back and forth before politely excusing herself the waiting room. Callie followed her in. She never liked taking hints.
“You’re the first of us to make it out alive,” she said before plopping onto the couch, “good luck.”
Lindsay told Dr. Farnsworth this bit of information. Her grin disappeared. She cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably.
“Lindsay, you need to know that many residents here have very drastic conditions, and they often come here after it’s too late.”
Lindsay half expected the music from Jaws to come blaring out from behind Farnsworth’s chair.
“Lindsay. Lindsay?” She snapped back to reality and shifted her gaze back to the big scary psychologist in the big, scary chair. “Yes?”
“I’m not saying this to scare you. You have to know the severity of this situation.” She did. And she wanted out. She would stay strong until she reached freedom. Aware of the Doctor’s stare, Lindsay crossed and uncrossed her legs.
“I know,” she swallowed, “trust me.”
The first question Lindsay encountered that meeting was about him. Sammy. Was he a major part of her life? Did she regret all that she’d done because of him? Was she ready to see him again?
She didn’t have much of a choice, now did she?
“I’m more concerned about having to gulp down that pitiful stuff the school’s mistakes as food,” Lindsay retorted, in full honesty. Dr. Farnsworth hated full honesty.

“Now is not the time for sarcasm, Lindsay.”

“I forgot, that time is only on Tuesdays,” Lindsay quipped back. The attitude was rising like bile in her throat. She wanted to force it down, but the words and frustration just kept coming. After months of holding everything in just to get by, it was only fair. What wasn’t fair was Farnsworth’s grand notion of a re-evaluation if Lindsay failed to bite her tongue one more time.

Lindsay feigned defeat. She was not going back, even if it killed her to stay out of the rotting walls of that residence.

“You’re right,” she said through clenched teeth, “I’m sorry.” Farnsworth, satisfied with her response, moved on. Shee covered everything. The family issues, the friends (Lindsay tried very hard not to mention Lexi), and the food itself. Lindsay would have to stick to the schedule of a full meal every four hours and a snack every two. Exercise in any form was forbidden. Cheating the system would result in serious consequences.

Don’t go down to their level. Look what they’re making you become.

Lindsay grabbed the piece of paper with the inane meal plan on it. What kind of person whose name wasn’t Michael Phelps was expected to eat every two hours?

As they exited the office, Lindsay heard Dr. Farnsworth tell her parents to monitor her more closely, since school brought back past experiences, which triggered the monster to come back.

That’s what Farnsworth called it. The monster.

And Lindsay was just a shotgun, waiting to be fired off any minute now.

It was the post first bell rush that started Lindsay’s entrance into Kennedy High. She tiptoed across the dirty tiles, leaving the giggly freshmen behind. Lindsay liked that they were all naive enough to blatantly check guys out and think they were being discreet about it. What was it about Freshman year that made you so innocent? What was it about Sophomore year that made you so cold?

Lindsay stopped and waited at the table Olivia had said was theirs. It was the one with a bunch of tennis balls from gym class on it because Olivia and Damon were using them to throw at one another. Those were the people Lindsay was supposed to befriend because they were “super cool,” and threw parties every weekend.

Lindsay wondered when she would relish another moment of silence. It was funny, wanting to be isolated again. Lindsay had spent months daydreaming about the kind of freedom where you were allowed to go see a movie that did not involve talking fish. But at least those fish entertained her. The cement-like chairs in the cafeteria did not.

Lindsay tugged at the bright blue sweater her mom bought for her first day. She thought it would make a colorful first impression, which in a mother’s world, was a good thing. But it just made her look flashy and cheap.

“Hey Linds!” Olivia greeted her. Her perfectly straight hair was tucked behind a sparkly pink headband. She was one of the brave few who got up at some ungodly hour to primp. Lindsay pulled a cheese sandwich out of her lunchbox, and saw the note that was taped onto the Ziploc bag: “Eat me please because we love you!” Lindsay tucked away the sandwich. A mother’s hopes were the worst to disappoint. Giving into food’s temptation was worse.

“What does that say?” Damon, asked. Lindsay quickly balled up the paper and turned away.

“Nothing,” she said abruptly, leaving an awkward silence. Olivia was quick to fill it up with mindless chatter.

“English class sucks so much. I swear, the teacher is out to get us.” Wasn’t that part of their contract? Lindsay had never come across a teacher who wasn’t tough on her.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, focusing on the sandwich she was instructed to conquer. She stared at the mushy white bread. It stared back. As much as a disgusting piece of carbohydrate can possibly stare.

Olivia acknowledged the apology, and moved on. “How was your first day back, Lindsay?” She asked, dipping a fry into a sea of ketchup. There was something that had changed about Olivia, but Lindsay couldn’t quite place what that something was. Was she more peppy? She was smiling like that creepy china doll Lindsay’s mom kept in a glass case, but there was one moment when the grin faded and Lindsay saw the lines under her eyes. Maybe the sadness had come from soggy french fries, or lack of understanding English teachers, but Lindsay guessed it was her own stupidity that caused Olivia’s pain. And she hated herself for that.

Lindsay took a piece of cheese out of her sandwich and tore it into thirds, then fifths, and finally, tenths. Each pang of flavor felt sickening. She had gotten to the point where she could stomach the food, but that didn’t make getting force fed a joy ride. She looked up at Olivia, who was peering over the table, waiting for an answer.

“It was fine,” she answered. Then, feeling stingy with her answers, added, “the chem teacher is actually really nice.” She was nice because she didn’t suffocate them with five hours worth of homework, and was not utterly terrified of teenagers. Olivia was overjoyed to get more than a grunt from Lindsay. She flung herself over to Lindsay’s side of the table and grabbed her schedule.

“Dude, you have Jenkins? Lucky,” she whined in a valley girl tone. The same tone the two friends had made fun of just a few months back. Lindsay was anything but lucky here; having one teacher out of eight who stayed off your case was hardly cause for celebration. But public Lindsay couldn’t let anyone know that. Public Lindsay had to learn to put on a happy face and get through the day hour by hour, minute by minute.

“Yeah, I am lucky,” she said after chewing the sliver of cheese exactly twenty times.

Chew, swallow, repeat. Chew, swallow, repeat.

In the background Damon was playing chicken nugget hockey against himself. He invited Olivia and Lindsay to play, but they volunteered to watch instead. Lindsay liked watching Damon’s expression while he played.There was a gleam in his eyes that belonged only to a true Chicken Nugget Champion.

“Score!” he called out so loudly, the whole cafeteria stopped and stared. Or was it just Lindsay’s imagination that witnessed this?

“You sure you don’t want to play?” Damon asked Lindsay, “I was hoping for some female recruits for the winning team.” Lindsay shook her head. She shifted uncomfortably when she saw him investigating her sandwich.

“Are you gonna...eat that or anything? Not that I’m ...thinking you won’t.” Damon’s attempt to be casual failed miserably, and Lindsay got the feeling Olivia had blurted Lindsay’s “situation” to anyone who was or possibly could be her friend.

“Nah, I’m full,” she said. Her stomach growled angrily. “Why, do you want it?” She got the idea these boys would eat just about anything.

“No thanks. I wouldn’t want you to um...not be able to eat or anything.”

Right. That would suck. It would mean having to spend thousands of hours in some unfamiliar room and getting your head examined. Lindsay sent a glare to Olivia, but they had never mastered the art of wordless communication. Actually, they’d never really mastered word-filled communication either. As soon as a chicken nugget came whirling past Lindsay’s head, she excused herself from the table, making up some lame excuse about making up a test. The whole room became so stifled, Lindsay couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Come back when you’re done. Me and Damon are killer at twenty questions, you can’t miss it!” Olivia shouted to Lindsay’s back.

Oh, goody.

Lindsay walked into the bathroom and washed her hands, taking away the cafeteria stench. She saw a disgusting, ugly, girl staring back at her. She wanted to tear away at the mirrored image with her claws.

“Hey there,” a deep voice growled. It was far too familiar, and Lindsay shuddered instinctively. Her whole body froze. She saw her mouth gape open just before she turned away from the mirror. A towering figure blocked out the light from the hall as it stood inches away from the restroom door.

“I was wondering when you would come back.” He might have been wondering, but was he hoping? It didn’t matter though; Lindsay no longer felt the surge of excitement that comment would have brought her back in the depths of her “Sammy Era.” The only thing she felt was sheer terror. Everything he did to her, everything that happened, came right back to Lindsay.

“I have to go to class,” Lindsay said, brushing up against Sammy’s shoulder as she passed. He took this as a move of interest.

“No you don’t,” he whispered softly in her ear, “you want to come with me.”

Lindsay’s voice shook, but she managed to stay strong as she retorted, “Oh, did you pick up some mind reading skills while I was gone? You know, to pass the time while you were ‘waiting’ for me?”

“Ouch. You got much feistier, Miss Lindsay,” Sammy laughed.

Maybe Lindsay got bolder, or scarier, or whatever it was that made Sammy feel the need to make this observation, but Sammy had not changed one bit. Lindsay didn’t know if this relieved or scared her.

“Please let me leave,” she begged.

“Let me have a second chance. Lisa didn’t mean anything to me. Just a fling. I’ve always loved you.”

Lindsay coughed loudly. “Well, it’s good to know the you screw around with people who don’t mean anything to you,” she said. She wasn’t usually a dramatic person, but thinking about that night still made Lindsay wretch inside. She remembered hearing the voices up in Sammy’s room like it had just happened. She remembered breathing heavily to race up the stairs, the extra weight slowing her down and making her chest ache. She remembered Sammy’s guilt-ridden stare, as he jumped up from the bed.

The only thing Lindsay couldn’t recall was Lisa’s face. That had been blurred out completely; cheaters didn’t deserve a face. No, this Lisa girl was just a skinny-bodied disaster who shattered any remnant of a relationship into pieces. She had come to a party that only was supposed to have two guests.

Back in the bathroom, Lindsay squeezed away from Sammy’s hovering arms, but even then, he didn’t get the message. His breath smelled like that familiar mint Lindsay had once adored. She thought it made him seem like Christmas, although back then, he was better than any present. Sammy placed a bony finger on Lindsay’s waist. She shivered.

“You wanna come over?” He winked. Lindsay laughed dryly.

“In what universe?”

“Mine.” Sammy treated it like a game. He treated it like Lindsay was a healthy, lively individual, just like how she was before certain people came steamrolling into her life.

“I can’t hang out with you.” Lindsay was determined to stand her ground, even if a part of her wanted to give Sammy a second chance.

More like a fiftieth chance, the logical side of her brain argued.

“Why’s that? I’m sure you can skip the snack just once.” A foot slid against Lindsay’s jeans.

“I have...soccer practice,” Lindsay said. The lie came out of her before she could do anything about it. Lindsay detected hurt somewhere on Sammy’s face, but he masked it with a sneer.

“Playing with those kiddies again?”

There was once a time when whatever Lindsay lived and breathed was Sammy’s life meaning. Before she came to trust him. But she knew the time when Sammy approved of everything she did was only a distant memory. Lindsay stepped wordlessly into her classroom and watched Sammy glide away.

“You’re sure about this?” A bunch of car horns cut through the background, and Lindsay heard a drunken outcry, but Sondra’s haughty accent was still the loudest on the phone.

Lindsay wasn’t sure about taking the dive into soccer, or anything else for that matter, but if there was one thing that Farnsworth had drilled into her head, it was to take risks. She just hoped Mike didn’t have as much of an ego as boyfriend number one, two, or three, all of whom treated Sondra like no real matter of importance. For someone who spent most of her time traveling the country with a dance troupe that was all female, Sondra did manage to get around.

“Positive. Can you guys come over this weekend?” Lindsay picked up the shiny new soccer ball she bought as a hopeful introduction to her soccer lessons. She tried to suppress a grin after remembering Olivia’s overjoyed expression when she saw Lindsay shell out ten bucks for the thing. It was, as she put it, “a symbol of health.”

“Sondra? Are you still there?” Lindsay feared for a second that the line went dead. It wasn’t like this for Sondra to be a member of a silent phone call.

“Yes.” Why was she tiptoeing around the subject like this?

‘I promise I won’t faint or anything.” Lindsay tried cracking a joke about the last disastrous time she attempted physical activity.

“I know,” Sondra sounded defensive, “but...how’s Father?” The ostentatious title Sondra gave him was completely un-fitting.

“Richard is handling things fine,” Lindsay answered. She refused to call him father or dad, or anything affectionate ever since she saw him sneaking around with a wine bottle late at night.

“He’s not mad anymore,” Lindsay assured her sister less crossly, but Sondra wasn’t convinced. She wasn’t going to take the chance of getting screamed at again.

*
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Sondra brushed her wavy red hair, and contemplated the idea. It was good that Lindsay was taking initiative, wasn’t it? Sondra flipped through the book about eating disorders she bought earlier that week, and found the section on physical activity:

15 minutes of exercise, maximum, and only when patient has had sufficient rest and fluids. Any more can result in strain on the heart, and possibly even-

Sondra abruptly turned the page and air escaped her lungs. She couldn’t do this. Not yet. She wanted her little sister to be happy, but not if it caused her to- Sondra couldn’t even think of the word.

Die. That was it. She would not let her little sister die.

*
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Lindsay hummed on the other line. She was growing impatient.

“Tell you what,” Sondra was on the verge of compromise, “how about I come up this weekend for a girl’s day? We can get manis, pedis, facials, hell, make it a party and invite Olivia to join us.” Lindsay was relieved that Sondra was returning to colloquial speech.

“And the soccer...?” She reminded Sondra.

“Will be discussed depending on if you do a job on your carton of ice cream while we gossip.”

And while Lindsay wanted the drastic change of soccer ASAP, getting there didn’t sound half bad, if it meant just hanging out with her sister. She’d forgotten how much she missed that.

“It’s a deal,” she laughed.


*
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Chrstina pushed her shopping cart through the supermarket and stopped in front of the intimidating wall of ice cream selections. This area was un-explored for her. Christina never dreamed of feeding her children anything but the healthiest of foods. Now, here she was, examining the differences between “Chunky Monkey” and “Razzle Dazzle.” Guilt swarmed over her, but Christina reminded herself that contrary to all the Doctors’ advice, if Lindsay volunteered to eat a high fat-content food with her sister, she should get that food.

“Fill her up with the essential nutrients that she’s lacking, and save desserts for when she’s more stable.” Dr. Farnsworth’s words echoed through Christina’s head. He didn’t get it, not really. The doctors didn’t see Lindsay’s lifeless hands turn purple, or her teeth chatter through the night. They didn’t see her exercise past the point of exhaustion, or her attempts to to sneak her dinner to the trash when no one was looking. Worst of all, these doctors didn’t witness a personality change over night: from a happy, giggling, creative girl to...death. Christina was scared, and by this point, she would do anything to get her daughter back. Even if it meant purchasing this Chunky Monkey.

Richard waltzed through the aisle, “ooh”-ing and “ah”-ing at all the flavors. Sometimes, he was worse than a little kid on Christmas.

“They’ve added some new stuff since I was in college,” he mused, still able to taste the last time he had the sweet, creamy stuff. He trailed past the “Orange You Glad,” and kept going through the frozen yogurts until he noticed Christina was at least ten feet behind. She tugged the cart like it was holding the weight of the world.

“Christina?” Richard felt the words, “is something wrong?” forming on his tongue, but they remained stuck there.

Christina trembled, “I don’t know which kind to get. I have no idea what Lindsay will like.” She leaned against the glass freezer doors and cried, past the point of caring what the other customers would think. She cried for her beautiful daughter, who didn’t deserve the hardships of the world; she cried for Richard, who was too stubborn to go to an AA meeting, and she cried for herself. She cried until she was all dried up inside.

“I just want her to be happy,” she sobbed. Every day, she felt like she was failing Lindsay.

Richard watched Christina shake against the wall. Her voice had a beautiful vulnerability to it. It held a compassionate kind of fear. He threw a half gallon into the cart, and pulled Christina up.

“It’ll be okay,” he said, not knowing if it was the truth. Nobody knew. Nobody could guess what the right thing to do was, but it was the right thing to say to your sobbing wife.

When her parents arrived, Lindsay sat on the leather couch, imagining the two ways their meeting could go. In a predictable household, the parents would be thrilled their daughter wanted to rediscover her star status on the field. But Richard and Christina were a lot less predictable these days. Their reactions could range anywhere from satisfied, to angry, to disappointed.

“Morning Sweetie, how’d you sleep?” Christina asked as she put the groceries away.

She didn’t.

“Fine,” Lindsay answered. She shivered. Lying to your parents was hard work, even if it was for their own good. Especially if it was for their own good. She wanted to break down and tell her mom how sick and cold and scared she felt. Instead, she offered her parents a seat, and set her newly purchased soccer ball into clear view. Christina looked shocked, but understanding was mixed into her expression.

“Sondra’s wild ideas about Mike teaching you some ‘sweet’ soccer moves got to your head, huh?” Richard accused.

Lindsay now knew how their reactions would be, and it was annoyed. Maybe even on the brink of angry. Sondra’s suggestions were not wild, but the need to play soccer wasn’t even coming from Mike’s supposed great skills. It was coming from herself, possibly for the first time since living at the hospital.

“Can I, Mom?” Lindsay directed the request at her mother, knowing she might be more understanding. Christina looked wary.

“You know that exercise isn’t-” Lindsay couldn’t even hold in the excitement. It was a new and wonderful feeling, one that she had was almost used to knowing as a memory.

“I miss it so much,” she said.

Christina looked over at Richard. She always did this before making any decision that required hardly any thought at all. Richard grunted and looked at the TV that was displaying a tennis game with players that nobody had ever heard of.

“We’ll talk about this later,” he insisted, “I have to watch this game.” Christina wanted to shut the power off the TV. She wanted to scream at him that their daughter was trying to take initiative in her life, and as parents that were desperate to help her succeed, they should listen up and do something about it. But all she did was sigh heavily and retreat to her bedroom, sure to kiss the top of Lindsay’s head and rub her back before she left.

“It sounds like an idea we could look into, as long as we get Doctor approval,” Christina assured her. Lindsay wasn’t sure. Those doctors were about as willing to let their patients have any un-sedentary fun as a child is to eat a heaping plate of vegetables. She doubted she’d be allowed to step onto the soccer field for as long as they had a hold of her.

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It was only after Lindsay had sat through hours of meetings with harried Doctors who wanted nothing more than to return home after a long day at work that she finally got the approval for five hours of soccer practice per week. It was child’s play compared to the fifteen hours she was used to sweating through, but it would have to work. When she raced over to the crinkly brown field, the first thing Lindsay noticed about Mike was that he was all talk: a boasting machine with insatiably greasy brown hair, which shone whenever it caught the right light in the sun. Mike’s attempts to kick a soccer ball up in a rhythmic sequence ended in him rolling on the grass, making desperate grabs for the ever-escaping ball. Lindsay had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

“Hey there, “ she called out. Mike stopped and looked in surprise. He wasn’t expecting Sondra’s sister to be on time, not to mention early. He didn’t think that trait was possible in her family.

“Hey yourself. Ready to sweat it up?” Mike didn’t want to scare Lindsay with such a fierce introduction, but she looked like the type of girl who could handle it.

“I’ve been ready for the past two months.”

Mike kicked the ball over to Lindsay, and she ran over to it with great strides.

“‘Kay girl,” he challenged, “let’s see what you’ve got.”

The first thing Lindsay found out during the session was that practice did actually make perfect. The second thing she learned was that it was un-wise to try to show off to your soccer instructor when you haven’t practice for a few months. It wasn’t exactly a choice of Lindsay’s, but rolling a bunch of sports equipment down the halls of Sunny Springs wasn’t a common practice. It would possibly win more titles of “crazy person” than half the patients residing there. And there were a hell of a lot of crazies at that place. Lindsay still shuddered when her mind traveled back to Callie the cutter, screaming Selena, trippy Tina...She tried to shake the memories out of her head. Maybe if she concentrated extra hard on the sweet scent of the dew-covered grass, or kept her eye on the ball, the thoughts would just shake right out of her. But every time Mike blew his whistle with fierce authority, Lindsay didn’t think, brring! Penalty! Try again! like she was used to. She thought, brrring! Run a little faster, and you’ll burn twice as many calories. The calorie count was more exhausting than the running itself. After Mike stopped parading around the field, he caught onto Lindsay’s distraction.

“ Where’s your head today?” he asked, “Sondra said you were some star on the field.” Lindsay tensed up in defense.

“My head is on top of my neck, thank you very much” she answered through her teeth. She didn’t have the patience to offer a nice response to someone who was clueless about soccer. She didn’t appreciate him for wasting her time. It was already plenty wasted sitting on a lumpy mattress, staring at a wall for hours.

Lindsay kicked the ball harder than necessary. She wasn’t shooting for accuracy anymore, just something to get her anger out on. She imagined the ball as Dr. Farnworth’s head. That helped a little. It didn’t get her to score any goals, but she did notice a rise in passion towards the game. So did Mike, but his response was far from desired.

“Easy now, Linds, take it slow, this isn’t the Olympics or anything,” he cautioned.

Great. The guy says I’m worthless as s***, and now he’s telling me to rein it in. Lindsay snickered at the irony, and sent the ball soaring towards the goal.

“That still too hard on you?” she asked shortly, before abandoning the training session. Lindsay thought it to be a mistake only as she stepped onto the sidewalk, but rejected the thought before it could sink in.

“Hold up there, not so fast,” a voice called out. Lindsay did a double take, twisting her head back and forth. She thought for a moment that she was hearing Sammy’s voice, but it was too light and playful for that to be the case.

“Shit.” Mike looked upset when a scrawny teenage boy came into their vision. His dreadlocks flowed down his spine, and he smirked as Mike set the ball down.

“Hello to you too, bro,” he said smoothly. Lindsay gawked at the two faces in front of her. They were brothers? They looked like they came from two different planets. The brother slid over to Lindsay, and greeted her with an outstretched hand.

“The name’s Forrest.” Lindsay was impressed by his firm handshake, and a voice that was smooth and light.

“Nice to meet you.” She did actually find it nice to meet a new person. Forrest looked intriguing. Dangerous even, in a fun kind of way. Lindsay wished she had known someone like this sooner.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Forrest winked. The compliment rolled easily off his tongue.

Lindsay was frozen solid. She would have forgotten her own name if someone asked her. But she knew to just smile and nod and pretend that she was absolutely okay with being that girl who needed outside help just to remain standing.

Lindsay rolled the soccer ball over to Forrest, waiting to see how he reacted to the game she loved so much. Forrest almost missed the ball completely, but with a sly grin, he caught his posture, kicked the ball above the ground, and sent it back and forth between his two feet.

“Trying to pull a fast one on me, huh?”

Lindsay grinned.

“Sure,” she answered. Testing someone’s boundaries could be fun when they were just begging for them to be tested.

“A blunt girl. And talented too. Maybe my brother here isn’t as much of an egghead teacher as I’d imagined,” Forrest said.

“I try,” Mike cut in.

“Shut it.” Forrest had no patience for his brother. He had all the interest in the world in Lindsay. “So,” Forrest kicked the ball back back to Lindsay, who then shot it back in the net, “does the soccer star eat?”

Hardly.

“It happens on occasion,” she said.

“Good. You’re going to try the meanest burger of your life and meet even sweeter people this Saturday. I’ll drive you to the BUNzai, 7:00.”

“Um.” So many excuses and fears were running through Lindsay’s head, that she started to see everything double. But she stood her ground and told herself firmly that meeting new people and having a fresh start was absolutely worth it. She could work around the not eating part. As for the parents watching her every move? She’d find a way around that too.

“It’s a date,” Lindsay winked, feeling braver than usual.

“Perfect. I’d like to get to know Michael’s new student. I have a feeling she’s a pretty cool girl.”

Lindsay hoped she wouldn’t disappoint Forrest.

“How’d it go?” Olivia looked up from his chemistry textbook, which was roughly the size of three Texas’s combined.

There’s one reason I should be glad I was too sick to go to school...Lindsay laughed to herself, thinking back to the easy Earth Science class she had gone to lunch from. She was surprised at being able to make a joke out of her sickness. It was unexplored territory, after everyone made the whole deal seem so dark, and so scary.

Lindsay slid her lunch tray across the table, and answered, “terrible” while taking a tiny bite from a mini candy bar. Twenty calories. She made it her ritual to eat dessert first. Damon closely watched her tear off a piece of chocolate. His eyes flickered with concern. Lindsay offered the candy to Damon, to make the staring less awkward, but he refused.

“‘S’okay,” he answered quietly, “but thanks, Lindsay.”

“Suit yourself.” Lindsay returned to munching. She tried to ignore the anxiety that swarmed her body.

Olivia threw her hands on the table and leaned towards Lindsay. “So? You gonna spare us from having to force the details out of you?” She was fascinated by anything and everything that indicated a potential social life from Lindsay.

Lindsay sighed, and after debating taking the tiniest of bites of her sandwich, said, “I’m thinking of changing ‘Leggo my Eggo’ to ‘Leego my ego.’” Damon chuckled at the joke, but Olivia was not amused. She shifted back and forth on her chair.

“‘Leego’ is not a word,” she said stiffly.

Apparently anything soccer-related had no place for jokes.

“I was just making it rhyme,” Lindsay defended herself. She put herself out there and let others laugh at her, only to find out she’d get shut down. When Lindsay recollected herself, Damon was the next person to talk.

“You know, if Mike is too much to handle, I’d be glad to help you out with soccer,” he offered. Lindsay was stunned. One, because it was thought to be impossible to show any signs of selflessness at this age, and also because Damon seemed nothing like the soccer-playing type. If that type did actually exist.

“You play soccer?” Lindsay couldn’t keep her surprise locked up in her head. Damon shifted his gaze down, suddenly very shy.

“I mean, for a few years I tried it out. I’m not that good, but if you don’t mind practicing...” he trailed off. Lindsay laughed sweetly at his efforts.

“Sure Damon, I’d like that. When are you free?”

Damon looked shocked, but pulled himself together right away.

“How about Saturday evening? I have track practice in the afternoon, but I can pick you up at like 6:30.”

Lindsay gulped. Of course fate would make everything in her new and improved social life happen on the same night. But she could not skip out on Forrest. She did everything to avoid eye contact from anyone from the lunch table.

It was a mean trick to play on someone who was already so unsure of her decision making skills. Should she stay in her comfort zone? Should she reach out to new people? What was her comfort zone? And were these new people trustworthy?

Forrest hadn’t yet proven himself to be trustworthy, but he also didn’t prove otherwise. And that certain air he had about his personality was just too much not to follow. She didn’t know him, but something told Lindsay her life would be less boring if she did get to talking with him. Any guy with dreads must not be all too boring of a kid.

Lindsay answered Damon full on, “Sorry, Saturday won’t work. Maybe some other time?” She really did want to see him.

Damon didn’t buy it right away. He was already picking up on the fact that Lindsay didn’t seem to be the huge social whirlwind type.

“What’s going on?” he asked into his bowl of soup. Damon had warmed up to Lindsay by about two degrees, but that wasn’t nearly enough to look at her when starting a minor confrontation.

“I have...” Lindsay mentally kicked herself when she was prepared to mention her scheduled outing.

“I have...a ton of studying to do,” she stuttered. Damon looked relieved. There was a clear sign that Lindsay was thinking straight. In truth, she still had a stack of calculus papers on her desk that she would probably just throw away.

“Need any help?”

Olivia jumped in, “You should so take him up on that. This kid is like the homework champion. I can’t tell you how many times he’s gotten me out of a sticky situation or two in English class. That Mrs. Smith can really pound a nail in your head.”

Lindsay had heard the horror stories. Many, many times. Thomas sure as hell liked to talk them up.

She knew these people were well intentioned. They were taking the right cautious steps to get her to the road of recovery.

But she wanted Forrest for recovery, for friendship, for anything that might make her less confused and upset.

The BUNzai was a run-down building that could have been mistaken for a shack by any bystander. Forrest had warned Lindsay that their chosen hang out spot was “kind of secluded,” which seemed to Lindsay to be about as understated as saying high school was just “a little dramatic. She should have been scared; it was the logical emotion to feel. Lindsay was trying her best to assess a situation, and logically determine the correct sentiment that would go along with it. It worked for things like feeling sad when someone died, or happy when she brought home an A on her report card, but it was the tricky middle that left Lindsay feeling stuck. Here she was, stuck in a shanty Ford Truck, driving Lord knows where with some guy she had one fleeting interaction with. She had to lie to her parents about where she was going, and she had to lie to herself about how safe she was sure to be.

Yes, any normal person would have assessed the situation as, warning! Danger ahead! See the yellow caution tape flashing in your head? Now might just be the time to call those guys in the dark blue uniforms.

Lindsay knew this, and she recognized this, but then again, she was never really any normal person.

The engine revved as Forrest swerved down the mountain. Lindsay gripped the seat, and tried to force a smile to assure him that she was perfectly cool with this; that she’d gone through tons of adventures similar to this one. She looked like she was baring her teeth instead of bearing a calm expression.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Forrest heckled, “this thing is a total piece of crap.” He patted the dashboard.

“Agreed.” It wasn’t the polite thing to agree that a friend’s car was worthless, but Lindsay was already making it too much of a habit to be a bit dishonest. She wanted the kick the habit before it got her into even more trouble.

Forrest laughed out loud. It was a stable laugh, but one that held emotional baggage. That was the only time he didn’t seem completely carefree.

“Did anyone tell you that you’re very blunt?” he asked.

Lindsay hugged her knees into her chest and winced. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. It’s refreshing. Most girls are constantly freaking out about how they seem to others, and they’re impossible to get to know. It’s exhausting as hell. With you, I know I don’t have to pull the truth out of you.”

If only he knew.

Silence filled up the car, but there wasn’t any pressure to fill it. Lindsay was too caught up with trying to hide her flushed cheeks anyway.

“Plus, being that blunt is kind of sexy.”

Did he just call Lindsay sexy? Now there was no way to hide it; her face was nearing about the same shade as a tomato.

“I’m blushing,” she giggled.

“I know.”

*
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Forrest pulled into the parking lot and looked at Lindsay. Her eyes shone with a childlike curiosity. She never announced that this was her first time doing anything that could cross the parental boarder line that Forrest himself leaped over, but her excitement gave her away. It was cute, and the elation was even a tiny bit contagious, but Forrest felt his throat close up at the thought of exposing a light girl to a darker world. He was all for having a little fun, but if it ran the risk of destroying any iota of innocence a girl held, well, he wasn’t sure if even he could do that.

Lindsay looked ready, she looked scared, and she looked like she had no idea what the hell she was getting into. Sometimes Forrest’s group had the ability to trump any newcomer’s insecurity, but he never knew when they were more likely to have the opposite effect. The unpredictability was comforting, yet terrifying. Smart, but also incredibly stupid. It all depended on how said newcomer would react.

Forrest turned to face Lindsay. She looked out the window.

“Just a heads up, those guys in there will whirl you up, down, and around again, so be prepared for a roller coaster of a night,” he warned her. He was worried about her, but he had to mask it with some nonchalance. Why hadn’t he thought through bringing Lindsay here beforehand? Forrest usually was so prideful in his spontaneity, but people didn’t usually latch onto that attribute like Lindsay did.

Lindsay blinked, and flicked her hair back.

“Perfect,” she answered, holding her shaking foot on the ground.

“Alright,” Forrest shrugged. He had warned her, and Lindsay certainly was brave.

Lindsay pulled open the door, and a whirlwind of commotion greeted her. Drunken laughter and yelling at whatever sports team that was on the TV filled the room. All the activity of the world that charged at them in one dynamite moment. Lindsay backed up and pulled Forrest closer to her. The cologne on his pitch black hoodie was sweet and comforting. Forrest was surprised at the quick sign of intimacy; Lindsay seemed like the type of girl who kept her distance for a while. But he didn’t do anything to deflect the move. He playfully ruffled her hair.

*
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Lindsay scanned the room more closely. Forrest gestured to a booth that was set up at the top of a small set of stairs. A few college aged kids were seated there, beers in hand. A slender brunette who was masked with eyeliner and dramatic eye shadow, sauntered over to the man across from her, and whispered something in his ear. In turn, the man smiled. Forrest kept his attention on those two, and raised his eyebrows. He turned Lindsay to face that direction; she was still trying not to look every which way.

“You see those two kids up there?”

Lindsay nodded. “Are they your friends?”

“In a manner of speaking. Somehow, at sometime, they got wrapped up in the drama that is my life, and haven’t left since. I think they’re a bit bored if they don’t have some screwball that they have to rescue every once in a while,” Forrest explained. It was as if he was placing some big fat disclaimer on himself.

I wonder why his life is such a drama, Lindsay thought.

“So what’s up with the beautiful people?” she asked. She had coined the nickname for them after observing their ability to flawlessly give off the impression that they were having the time of their lives.

“Ah, yes, the question of the year. It’s like a middle school crush all over again,” Forrest said as the surfer boy with the freckles said something that struck the brunette as hilarious, “they like each other.”

“Like, like each other?” Lindsay joked. She hadn’t asked that question since the sixth grade.

Forrest chuckled, “Exactly. But you can’t let on that you know that, because they’re too damn stubborn to do anything about it. It’s more exhausting to keep it a secret, if you ask me.”

Lindsay agreed heartily. She had experience with keeping secrets.

She shifted her gaze to a woman in her late twenties. She had jet black tips on her otherwise bleach blond hair. She was decked out in five or six necklaces, bracelets, and earrings, most of which had skulls somewhere on the design. She sipped her soda without much care about what was going on around her, and Lindsay spotted a book in her Green Day bag.

“Is she part of the Forrest clan too?” Lindsay gestured to the edgier woman. She was sitting by herself, but had caught Forrest’s eye multiple times.

“You could say so.” Forrest twiddled his fingers and looked down at the floor. Obviously there was more to the story than he was letting on. Lindsay swallowed loudly. This was more information than she could digest in such a short amount of time. Feeling dizzy, she sat down.

“You know, for a dude with dreads, you sure do have a lot of friends,” Lindsay joked feebly.

“Are you dissing the hair?” Forrest feigned offense, but secretly, he was pleased that Lindsay was able to loosen up so quickly. Her discomfort had been so prominent, he wasn’t sure if she would warm up to such an nontraditional group.

“No, of course not. I personally think dreads are all the rage,” Lindsay admitted. Forrest hopped up the stairs and gestured for Lindsay to do the same.

“Ready to meet ‘em?” he challenged her.

Lindsay raced up the stairs before Forrest could even prepare himself for introductions. The not-a-couple-couple gave Lindsay an odd stare before looking to Forrest for confirmation.

“Is this the...?” The brunette started, but Forrest nodded before she could finish her sentence.

“Oh. Oh! Lindsay, the beauty who just fell from the soccer Gods,” the woman greeted Lindsay with a shaky hand, “I’m Toni by the way, and I apologize in advance for the somewhat out there behavior. Have one too many of these babies yourself, and you’ll see what I mean.” To demonstrate, Toni took a huge gulp of beer.

“Cool it, Toni,” Forrest scolded.

“Oh wow, he’s got the protective act going on,” Toni observed, “he must really like you.” She took a second gulp. “You want one?”

Lindsay shrugged, “maybe later.” It was more about the calories than pure alcohol content. That part seemed dangerously exciting. She moved on to the surfer dude, letting the adrenaline do the talking.
“Dude. Eric. Quit the shy guy act, and get with the program.” Toni slapped his knee. To Lindsay, she said, “sorry, he gets like that whenever he sees anyone he doesn’t know very well...with boobs, might I add.” Eric sunk into his chair for a second, but regained his posture.

“Stop it,” he kidded.

“No, you stop it.”

“I said it first.”

It really was like a middle school crush. Forrest was not exaggerating. He was, however, not saying much at the moment. Lindsay looked at him, willing him to talk as soon as an awkward silence approached.

“So, what’s the verdict, guys? Is she a keeper?” he asked Toni and Eric. From afar, the skull girl nodded.

Was I ever in danger of not being a keeper? Lindsay tried to keep the nagging thought out of her head, but the attempt was unsuccessful.

“She seems cool to me,” Eric said.

Toni, seemingly more enthused, squealed, “love her!” And, more quietly, added, “seriously, I don’t know why it took Forrest here so long to find a girl like you, but I guess he’s always been slow on the uptake. You’re just the addition our group needs.”

Lindsay was getting a slight impression that everyone assumed they were dating. Forrest was cute, and maybe some initial attraction was there, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to dive back into the boyfriend world, especially with another “bad boy.”

“Oh we’re not...” Lindsay started, but Toni cut her off.

“Eh eh eh, don’t even try to deny it, Missy. Trust me, I’ve been there. You might ‘not be,’ right now, but you will. Welcome to the club, Lindsay. It’s one hell of a journey.”

BAM a beer mug slammed onto the table, making Eric jump about ten feet into the air. Forrest winked at him, like he knew what was really making him nervous. Eric cleared his throat, and suggested they all get menus, to show Lindsay why they all gathered here.

“It all boils down to the burgers,” he explained proudly.

“Actually, it all grills down to the burgers,” Toni corrected him, “but he’s right, you know. Those things should be worshipped. Get it with a little cheese, some avocado, maybe a bottle or two of ketchup, and you got yourself a piece of heaven.”

She was right about the heaven analogy, because Lindsay would die if she had to eat that much food. She shifted back and forth in her chair, and started to shake. So violently did her hands twitch, that it was impossible for the others not to notice.

“You okay, hon?” Toni asked. Lindsay nodded.

“I guess I’m just excited.” That was true. But anxiety was overpowering the excitement. She expected an interrogation, or disbelief in her claim that she was actually okay, but her explanation was enough for Toni, Eric, and Forrest, who all flipped through their menus, studying it like a textbook.

“We don’t take our burger choices lightly at all,” Forrest explained, when a few minutes went by and they still had their noses buried in the entree section.

“I can see that.” Lindsay took a sip of water and tried to ignore the racing heart rate and drops of sweat that were pouring down her face. She didn’t have to eat. They wouldn’t make her eat. They were chill, they didn’t breathe down Lindsay’s face, and that’s what she liked about them. Forrest handed Lindsay a menu.

Maybe not.

Lindsay’s eyes twitched. She read through the page. Cheeseburger. 440 calories. Double cheeseburger. 880 calories. Bacon burger. 500 calories. Turkey burger. 380 calories. A little better, but just not good enough.

“Narrowed anything down yet? It’ll be the hardest decision of your life,” Forrest said. He was right, though. It was the hardest decision of her life. Lindsay felt nauseous and dizzy. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t stand.

“I think, I- I just-” Lindsay started, and barely made from the table to the door, where she walked head on into a blast of cool air.

*
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Inside the BUNzai, Forrest proceeded to freak out more than he thought capable.. Had he exposed Lindsay to too much, too soon? Were his friends weirder than she could take? Forrest assumed Lindsay liked oddballs, but maybe-

He started for the stairs, but an arm pulled him back. It was an arm covered with a skull-painted sleeve, and Forrest was shocked to come face to face with Elaina.

“Let her be,” she said in a grave, dull voice. Forrest stared into her lifeless eyes.

“Like I’m gonna listen to you.” Forrest found no patience for Elaina anymore, and preferred to just pretend she didn’t exist.

“You are going to listen.” Elaina stated every opinion as fact.

“Look, just because those two idiots feel sorry for you, doesn’t mean I can be tricked,” Forrest said sharply, with a fierce anger in his eyes. Elaina shrugged, and didn’t take the insult any more harshly than she would when people were discussing the weather.

“I’ll talk to her,” Elaina said abruptly. That would have struck Forrest as funny, if he hadn’t known Elaina had zero sense of humor.

“And I’ll just go discover life on Mars.” Forrest tried to beat the absurd proposal with sarcasm, but before he could protest further, Elaina had already made it outside, and Toni and Eric seemed to think it was for the best. He loved his two friends, but sometimes, they were the number one thing he hated.

*
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Elaina tapped Lindsay on the shoulder, and she whirled around.

“What?” Lindsay demanded, “What did I do?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to get out of that hellhole. It’s getting way too close in there for my liking,” Elaina answered, and sat down on the cold cement. Recognizing Lindsay’s discomfort as plainly familiar, she continued, “plus, I don’t want to give in to Forrest’s scheme to make me fat.”

As far as Lindsay could tell, Elaina was all skin and bones, and getting fat was utterly impossible for her. Not like Lindsay, who ate an apple and blew up to the size of five hundred balloons. But relief flooded over her to find a girl who knew she wasn’t insane. Well, mostly not insane. Lindsay wanted to hug her. Then cry. Then scream. She wanted to run around aimlessly until she felt less panicked. Outwardly, she nodded. Elaina leafed through her bag, pulled out a joint, and took a long drag.

“You want one?” Elaina held out the supply to Lindsay, but she shook her head.

“Alright, it’s your funeral.” Elaina shrugged. Lindsay didn’t have the energy to point out the irony in that comment.

Elaina stared out into the trees that were crawling towards the restaurant. She inhaled a couple times like she was going to say something, but only after a minute or two did she actually talk.

“So. How are you?” she asked breezily.

Lindsay immediately kicked into polite mode. Anything other than a quick, “fine,” was unacceptable. Elaina let the hurried answer sink in.

“Okay...” she picked at her fingernails, “but how are you?”

“You’re good,” Lindsay observed.
“Yeah, well, it comes with loads of practice.”

Lindsay wasn’t fine, and it was obvious to anyone who spent enough time with her. She was scared as often as she breathed, and sometimes, she didn’t have the strength to keep the bridge of fear from collapsing.

“It’s just...I mean...I don’t...” Lindsay desperately wanted to explain everything, once and for all. She was tired of keeping it bottled up inside. But Elaina had an understanding look to her that implied those broken sentences were all she needed. Lindsay thought she just might be psychic. Well, she would have, in those magic pre-adolescent years when magic was still a possibility.

“It’s okay,” Elaina assured her, “I got it.”

“You’re a saint, you know that?” Lindsay laughed. Elaina rolled her eyes.

“Yeah. Try telling Forrest that,” she said. Lindsay had suspected there was a back story that neither was all that eager to tell. She knew from past experience not to prod for further details, though.

“I guess we got to go back in there, huh?” Lindsay peered at the huge door. It seemed daunting to re-enter the commotion.

Elaina took another drag from the cigarette. “Not necessarily. We could ditch ‘em.”

Lindsay sighed. If she was comfortable with abandoning just about anything, life would have been a piece of cake. If she wasn’t scared of life’s sugar content or calories, that is.

“It’s not that simple,” she protested.

“Says who?” Elaina didn’t let anything pass by without challenging it.

“Says the world,” was Lindsay’s dry answer. Elaina flicked her shiny black hair back and raised her paint-chipped middle finger up at the clouds.

“You know what I have to say to the world? Dumb s***.”

It was the most concise and accurate attitude towards mass society that Lindsay had ever come across. It was refreshing. Being bad-ass felt great every once in a while.

“You’re right,” Lindsay said.

“I know.” Honest, and self confident too. Where had this girl been all of Lindsay’s life?

Elaina handed the joint to Lindsay, who stared at it for a minute. Elaina looked at her expectantly.

“Go on, finish it,” she instructed, “you’ll be flying high before you know it. Besides, I can’t finish the thing.”

This time, Lindsay didn’t insist on being the goody-two-shoes she felt the pressure to always be. That load was off her back with this crowd. She inhaled deeply and coughed up some smoke, but the second try was much more successful.

“That’s it girl, you’re a natural,” Elaina remarked. Lindsay never would have thought in a million years that she’d be proud that she was a natural smoker. But there she was, beaming at the compliment. Inhale number three felt good even, like she’d been doing it her whole life. It was freeing and fantastically simple, just like life should have been, if more people like Elaina were ruling the world.

“So...what now?”

Elaina crossed her legs and looked up at the sky once more, this time with more admiration.

“That’s the beauty of it. We do nothing. You just sit there and wait for this great gift from the Gods.”

And so Lindsay sat. And waited. And hummed, and fidgeted. Until she was taken into the possession of some amazing higher power.

*
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The last time Forrest panicked, hot glue guns and wailing fifth graders were involved. He was able to be the smooth talking, chill guy ever since then. It was a difficult image to maintain, but somehow, he did it with energy to spare.

Not now. Here he was, right smack in the middle of a restaurant, unable to breathe. He felt his pulse racing. He paced back and forth, trying to stop his skull from making very powerful threats to pound straight out of his forehead. He rubbed his temples. He breathed deeply. Both Eric and Toni looked at him like he’d gone nuts. It would have been worth it, if the desperate measures had helped at all to calm him down.

Where the hell was she? At first glance, Lindsay seemed totally at ease in the crowd, making pleasant conversation with everyone at the table. Seconds later, she was off doing god-knows-what with a certified crazy, who, in some alternate universe, just happened to be Forrest’s ex-girlfriend.

It was times like these that Forrest wished life came with an instruction manual. It was the only time he wished life came with demands and instructions.

“Dude, relax. We’ll find her,” Eric said, stuffing into his mouth a burger that was drenched in ketchup. He looked up and patted Forrest on the back, sending a streak of red onto his white tee-shirt. “Whoops. Sorry.”

Forrest whirled around and stared. How could these two be so calm? How could they just sit there and act like Lindsay would turn up any minute now? He could already picture the headlines: Girl, 16 dead due to lack of care from companion. Okay. So maybe that type of blame wouldn’t be sent to the press, but it was close enough.

“I gotta find her.” Forrest grabbed his coat, and felt his heart pound even harder. He was just a whir of colors from where Eric and Toni sat, leaving them in a daze.

Eric looked from the door to his meal, and back again.

“What’s with him?”

*
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She was obviously some place at some time, but Lindsay didn’t know exactly where or when. Everything was beautiful, freeing, and hilarious. A piece of grass sent her into a fit of laughter that lasted for five minutes.

It was also a little freaky, and Lindsay’s body was screaming at her to purge the stuff that was making her go through this period of insanity. Her mind, however, was in bliss. she could see past the freaky portion of the program. She took the time to consider a dark green park bench that was sitting right in front of her nose. It was solid and steady, just like her life wasn’t. She told Elaina this somewhat profound observation, but for some reason, it didn’t astound her nearly as much as it should have.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun. Now gimme,” Elaina instructed. She was an old pro, and knew whenever a newbie might have gone too far. Lindsay fit that category perfectly.

“But I don’t wanna!” She whined like a three year old. Even the new whining sound was hysterical.

“I know you don’t. But you’re gonna do what I say. Give me the joint.” Elaina’s voice got deeper as she spoke with more authority than she was used to.

“But why?” Lindsay rolled onto the grass and traced the clouds with her fingers. Elaina took it as an opportunity to grip the cigarette out of Lindsay’s hands and into her own. Lindsay began shaking, and hung for dear life on Elaina’s shoulder.

“I’m scared,” she whimpered. Suddenly the swirling colors and loud voices in her head didn’t seem so fun anymore. She felt cold and limp.

“I know,” Elaina said softly, “but we’re going to-”

“Get that girl some help,” a deep voice finished. Forrest came into Elaina’s peripheral vision, looking mortified yet exhausted. He was a complete mess. His hair was scragely, his face covered with dirt, his hands scratched and bleeding.

“What happened to you?” Elaina asked.

“Funny,” Forrest said with a humorless laugh, “I was just about to ask you the same thing. If I gave a rat’s ass about what happens to you.” His real fear was what state of mind Lindsay was in. Reading her vapid expression over a set of glazed eyes, Forrest determined it wasn’t too great.

*
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Elaina couldn’t believe she ever had the balls to love such a self -centered freak of a man. He wasn’t even a man. He was a lying, stealing, cheating, scumbag who could barely qualify as a human. And there it was, grazing the arm of one more poor soul he could mess up all over again.

“Your precious toy is fine,” Elaina spat. Forrest glared in return.

“Really? Because where I live, being high as a kite doesn’t mean you’re ‘fine.’”

Lindsay’s weak voice became audible once more. “I don’t feel so good.” Forrest rubbed her back.

“I’m taking her home. You-” he sent shooting daggers through his eyes to Elaina- “can find your own way.” With all his weight, he thrust Lindsay’s limp body onto his shoulders, and carried her back the whole three miles he had to trek through just to find Lindsay in such a terrible condition. Once he lay her safely in the backseat of his truck, he placed a blanket over her, and kissed her forehead.

“It’ll be okay,” he said softly, “it’ll all be just fine.”

Forrest didn’t know if he should believe his own words, as he drove wordlessly the rest of the way.

When Richard finally heard Lindsay creak the door open, he jumped. He was expecting to see her any minute now, but also, a part of him was preparing to never see her again. He wiped away the tears that had conjured that thought. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. He needed to give his daughter all the independence in the world, and to do whatever it was that would make such a sickly unhappy girl...happy. But breaking curfew, trying to tiptoe through the foyer, Lindsay didn’t look happy at all. Her shaky hands tore at her shoelaces, and she was too pale. Her hair was matted, and her eyes were wide with fear.

Richard’s first thought was to make sure she was okay. What if she had been kidnapped, raped, even? No. Richard could not allow him to think about that now. It hadn’t happened. Lindsay was here, and until she heard a word or two about the dangers of staying out past curfew, the nice-parent routine would just have to wait. That was what Christina would choose to do, if she hadn’t just fallen into a fitful slumber. At least, that’s what Richard’s version of Christina would choose to do.

“Where were you?” He demanded, sliding out of his chair. Lindsay gasped and stood perfectly still. Trying to hide was a lost cause, and even she knew that in her half-awake state.

“You can’t avoid this one, Lindsay; truth is gonna come out eventually. So I said it once, and I’ll say it again. Where where you, damnit?”

“I was- I didn’t, it just-” Lindsay looked down at her gnarled fingers. She couldn’t find the words to explain if she wanted to. Although she knew, deep down, she never wanted her father to find out the truth. He would shun her for longer than life itself.

“I’m sorry,” she added. She wished she could erase the entire night.

Sorry didn’t cut it for Richard, not even close. If Lindsay knew, she would be well aware that sorry was the least meaningful thing to tack onto a sentence. If she had known what had gone through her parents’ heads: murder, running away from home, suicide...if she had known that, she’d be doing a hell of a lot more than saying sorry.

Lindsay wished it was all one big nightmare. Not just tonight. Every night since the past year. All the wanted to do was crawl under her floral-pink sheets and sleep away discomfort.

“I’m going to bed,” Lindsay said flatly to the glowing window. She couldn’t look at her father just yet.

“No you’re not. You’re going to stay right here until you can give me a clear explanation of what-” Richard’s lecture was interrupted by Lindsay’s sudden move to bolt up the stairs.

As Lindsay’s generation would say, “Oh no she didn’t,” Richard laughed to himself. He was terrible for adding humor to the situation, but what else could he do? He was completely helpless. Lindsay was her own person. At some point, she had to make her own decisions. That’s what everybody fighting the anorexic monster wanted Lindsay to do: be independent, make stupid mistakes, and learn to get back from her own deep fall. He could lecture and punish and yell all he wanted, but at the end of it, all he was there for at this stage in Lindsay’s life was moral support. To just stand at the sidelines and throw in a few commentaries now and again. Through Lindsay’s scrapes and bruises in her coming of age story, Richard was going through his own. He had to struggle through letting go his fierce belief that he could still protect his daughter from the world. He had to realize that he couldn’t treat Lindsay like she was ten years old anymore, no matter how quickly time fooled him.

For a minute, it all seemed perfectly rational. Then silly. Then downright wrong all over again. The anger rose in his chest as fast as it had deflated. Richard thought maybe he was going through sympathy teenage hormones. The swirling mess that was his brain at some point in time certainly indicated this was so.

“How dare she-” Richard stormed up the stairs. He heard Christina’s soft voice in Lindsay’s room: “Shhh, it’ll be okay. Breathe, Lindsay, just breathe.”

That was just it, Lindsay couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t eat, she couldn’t think, and she could barely remember how she could function as a human being. Living the monotony of each day was like running a marathon, but having anorexia-the first time Lindsay faced the name of her own personal hell- was like running a marathon until you die.

*
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She wasn’t dead yet, but she certainly wanted to be after her father entered her room. His stormy presence was the first indicator: the onerous expression that halted in the doorway scared Lindsay. She knew she had messed up big time. She also knew her dad, someone who had screwed up enough for the entire family, would not let her forget it.

“Where, how...why...?” Richard hesitated for a moment, and stepped forward. Dark lines were prominent under his dusky grey eyes. He normally thought before he spoke. But to Lindsay, it seemed he’d never find the exact right words. He’d always be as helpless as a new, terrified parent, because in a sense, that’s what he was. He was parenting two daughters now: regular Lindsay, that girl who knew how to laugh life off and have a little fun, and anorexic Lindsay. The daughter who was cascading into a deep hole that was near impossible to climb out of. This was the girl Lindsay’s parents had gotten to know the most lately, and for that Lindsay felt the hugest guilt trip ever known to man. She felt like her squirming heart was being squished between two book ends. Dr. Farnsworth had taught Lindsay how to make the distinction between the two Lindsays, but at 2:00A.M on a starry Saturday night, that was when the realization had come to life.

Richard still had a few steps to get through before arriving at the same conclusion. He did two heavy stomps straight towards Lindsay’s bed, and recollected himself. Lindsay quivered, just at the sound of his breathing invading her ear.

“Why don’t you tell me where you were so late on a Saturday night, huh?” Richard demanded. “Library closes at eight,” he added smartly.

“I know,” said Lindsay meekly. She wished she was at the library right about now, just to get away from this mess.

“So. Feel like enlightening your dear ole’ Dad?” Richard’s anger had risen. His fist was trembling behind his back, and his face was turning a deep shade of violet. Lindsay was about to answer; she had to search for the correct words before explaining (mostly) everything to her father, but it was too late. Lindsay had already seen the pre-blowup smirk inch slowly across Richard’s tired visage. It was a close toothed smile, one that kept his eyes looking as dead as a stillborn kitten. It flashed before any real sign of danger came, and left as soon as Lindsay hid under her blanket. A resounding Crack! hit the creaky wooden floorboards, as Richard stomped his boot onto the ground. He barged into Lindsay’s space, taking up more room that usual.

“I have had it with you, young lady! Either you tell me where the hell you have been, or you stay in this goddamn room of yours forever! Is that what you want, Lindsay? A sixteen year old girl, treated like you’re five? Do you want to not have a future? Do you want to be force fed three times a day for the rest of your life?Well, that’s not how it’s going to work, kiddo, no way. You better straighten up, or there will be some serious consequences!” Richard screamed. His veins were popping out of his chest, and Lindsay could no longer recognize this stranger who she called her father. He looked older, and a hell of a lot scarier.

“That was- not...a rhetorical question.” Richard stopped himself to catch his breath. He gripped Lindsay’s mattress, and peered straight into her eyes that were cold with fear.

“Answer me!” He demanded, when Lindsay did nothing but shake under her comforter. When she finally did breathe a deep, shaky breath, Lindsay peeked her head out from her blankets. She felt far too exposed, like her thoughts were completely naked and visible for her father to inspect.

“I was- I didn’t-” Lindsay didn’t know where she was. Literally, she knew she was at 122 Westpoint Ave, but she was tumbling so fast forward that in terms of her future, immediate or longterm, she had no idea where she was going.

“Are you scared? Is that what’s holding you back?” Richard slammed the bed with his hands. Lindsay used to love those hands. They were warm and comforting, and to an exciteable kindergartener coming home from school, Lindsay thought of those hands as jovial, full of energy, and as big as dinner plates. She couldn’t find the same comfort in such angry fingers anymore, especially when they were old and wrinkled, and not bothered to be taken care of any more.

“I’ll tell you what-” Richard’s voice was still deeper than usual, but had a tone of reason, “You’re going to be a lot more scared if we send you back to the hospital to get your head examined if you don’t tell me what on Earth you were doing running around anywhere you damn well please!”

Lindsay’s sobs filled the room. She was too tired to explain. She was too tired to always have her head held up high and be that perfect daughter. She couldn’t do it all, not now, not ever. She had already failed her father, and there was no turning back. Lindsay sunk into her sheets and shook her head furiously.

“Please Daddy, please just let me sleep,” Lindsay begged. Tears cascaded down her face. She didn’t try to stop them.

“Don’t you ‘Daddy’ me. If you want to ever get the independence an adult deserves, you’re going to have to start acting like an adult. Now. For the last time, Lindsay Herkins, where-”

“Stop,” Christina’s soft voice put a firm halt on Richard’s lecture. She had walked to Lindsay’s doorway, and in her half-awake state, she couldn’t get rid of the worry that was turning through her brain. And hearing Richard’s deep tones echo through the walls made Christina notice some sort of indication of trouble. Richard did a 180 towards Christina, and gaped at her stupidly. He was thrown off by such an interruption in his lecture.

“What?” he demanded, “what do you mean, ‘stop?’”

“Lindsay’s tired,” Christina said; although out of the two of them, she looked the most fatigued, “Let her rest. We’ll figure out where to go from here tomorrow.” Ever the problem solver, Christina was firm in her decision. She wasn’t angry, but she didn’t let any uncertainty overtake her either.

Richard was most definitely unsure. And perplexed. He couldn’t believe Christina was letting Lindsay crawl through the easy route in life. All that would do was land her a job at a fast food joint, if she was lucky. Richard tried to imagine his daughter in one of their dehumanizing uniforms, complete with a “Hi! My name is...” sticker, but couldn’t.

“Christina-” Richard started. When he saw his wife lift a single index finger into the air, he knew she had won the battle. Richard hardly wanted to give in, but there had been enough ruckus for one night.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he conceded, and walked out the door.

Lindsay was getting a pitchfork stabbed in her forehead.

The only preconception that Lindsay could get wrapped into her consciousness was this very idea. It was the only explanation for the searing pain that was roaring through her skull. When she looked up, she saw no sign of pitch or fork. Yet the pain was still there. Maybe counting calories had finally caught up with her and caused these headaches. But probably not.

The memories of the previous night came in waves. Small ones, at first. Lindsay caught a hint of a conversation, the scent of the joint, the excitement that rattled her bones. Slowly she saw that girl’s face-what was her name?-Elaina. It was that dark face that triggered the bigger memories, that ones that got Lindsay in trouble.

Flying high off the ground. Screams. Running. Sprinting away from the restaurant. Coughing up smoke. Running. Fainting. Screaming. Forrest. Driving. Screaming.

And a hundred more years of running and screaming until she slept.

Lindsay rubbed her forehead and considered the situation, trying to ignore the lightening bolts of pain that greeted her skull every so often. From a distance, Lindsay’s more sadistic side thought it was funny that she had jumped from needing everything to be perfect, to...this. An entire mess that was more fit for a juvenile delinquent than herself. Yet here she was. Only a year ago, Lindsay trembled at the thought of getting any marks of “the red pen” on her English essays, or of getting scolded by any authority figure. Now she was out smoking pot with people she barely even knew, and she would have been glad to merely get a few firm words from her parents, instead of the consequences she could only begin to imagine.

A loud ping! that sounded from the computer interrupted Lindsay’s punishment. She looked over at the glowing screen, and saw Damon’s user name pop up. Scared as Lindsay was to talk to somebody who could perceive so much so soon, she was glad to get a distraction.

Hey, Damon had written, What’s up?

The urge to spill everything had never left Lindsay, but now it was throbbing. She could type out the confession, but Lindsay felt that was the cheap way out of really facing her friends. So, she just scrawled out a simple, not much...am still way deep in that sea of homework. U? She hoped Damon wouldn’t pick up on the fact that she was MIA for the past few days.

I haven’t seen you in a while. Is everything okay?

Lindsay should have figured he hadn’t just stepped into school yesterday. Damon was anything but stupid. Even a cheesy “yeah!” with an overdone smiley face wouldn’t convince him.

Yeah, sorry for seeming totally out of it. I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow @ lunch.

The only times Lindsay used superficial words like “totally” and “@” (how much longer would it take for a person to type a-t?) was when she herself was superficial. Damon didn’t deserve this kind of lie.

Okay, sounds good.

But he definitely was accepting it.

Lindsay slid down her chair and let the screen go blank for a few minutes. She tried to remember what it took to be a friend. Something that came so easily could be lost in a moment if you’ve been unable to exercise that skill. The frantic Doctors at the hospital weren’t so dead set on friendships being formed as they were on saving lives.

How was she supposed to sound? What was Damon expecting? People at school knew Lindsay a certain way. They anticipated certain responses, and familiar reactions.

What if she didn’t know how to be that person anymore?

A little taken aback by Lindsay’s silence, Damon tried again. He didn’t give up perfectly respectable friendships, and for that Lindsay gave him credit as ten times more respectable than all the boys in her school combined. They were all still making “that’s what she said” jokes like they were the best invention of all time.

A new message popped up onto the screen. Damon had written, want to try for soccer next weekend?

She did. She wanted to spend a nice, normal Saturday, doing nice, normal things. Maybe that was step number one to finding those friend-making abilities again. But Lindsay couldn’t get Forrest out of the back of her mind. His carved cheekbones and thick, black eyebrows filled her head. Lindsay wanted to believe that the past night was just a one time thing, that Forrest didn’t go on such adventures every weekend.

But he did. It was part of what made him interesting. Forrest didn’t have the patience for spending a weekend playing Sorry with his family and a bunch of overfed cats, like Mike and Sondra did.

For now, Lindsay was torn. She wanted to be in two places at once. She even considered inviting Forrest to play soccer with her and Damon, but she couldn’t anticipate how the two guys would hit it off. Lindsay thought about the tie Damon wore on “formal Fridays,” with his hair nicely combed back. Then she thought about Forrest’s wild gleam of excitement complete with his loud Metallica tee-shirts. Forrest and Damon were such opposites, they may as well have lived on either end of the universe. It was best to just keep those two entities of Lindsay’s life apart.

Um...I’ll have to see, Lindsay typed in reply. It was neither binding nor disappointing.

Oh. Ok. Apparently Damon thought it was the latter.

Lindsay stood up and paced back and forth in her room. Since when did she make it a habit of skirting around everything and everyone. It made her feel like one of those scumbag businessman who wore million dollar suits and never told the truth. Lindsay would curl up into the floor and die if she ever turned into one of those.

She would just have to put Forrest on the back burner, for the next weekend. It was only fair. Damon was trying so hard, he might get truly hurt if he faced another rejection. Besides, Lindsay desperately needed the soccer practice. It could even be fun.

Hold on. Saturday evening might work. Is 7-ish okay for you?

Lindsay hit the enter key firmly and waited. Seeing no reply in return, Lindsay feared she had been too dismissive already. She pounded her head against her desk and moaned, “why, why WHY do I have do be such a stupid, idiotic, no-good-”

She didn’t know that Damon was sitting twelve blocks away, fingers trembling at his blue Dell Computer, trying to come up with the best reply. One that would say, “I’m happy to see you,” without making it so obvious. Damon was well aware that Lindsay wasn’t dense, and would pick up on the first sign of whatever made his knees shake when he saw her.

“What to say, what to say...” Damon whispered to himself, before deciding to just go for it and hoping he didn’t fail at it too badly. A new instant message surprised Lindsay, as she was just about to give up and let thoughts of Forrest intrude her mind.

Sounds awesome. Can’t wait! Lindsay read and smiled. Damon, the most quietly enthused boy she had ever met. And the enthusiasm was catching. Almost.

Maybe it was good to get away from the trouble Forrest brought for a while. Perhaps Lindsay needed some downtime from corruption.

She had nearly convinced herself when she heard her mother’s voice call up the stairs.

“Lindsay, it’s time for breakfast!” Christina’s voice sounded heavy. Lindsay guessed she was preparing herself for more than pleasant conversation about routine topics such as school. Whenever a big event happened, Christina was prone to analyze, evaluate, and then discuss. And revise. That was the most important part. Anytime Lindsay didn’t get a 100% on the test of life, Christina’s favorite thing to do was revise, as though her daughter could be erased and written over like an English paper.

Lindsay braved one glance at the mirror. Big mistake. She saw the dark lines under her eyes from all the nights of worry, of counting and calculating. She took in the fat that was resting on her skin, itching to come off. To some people, these were curves. To Lindsay, it was extra body mass that didn’t deserve to be there. Lindsay wanted to jump out of the fat, and reunite with the skinny girl that was much stronger, and was once herself. But she didn’t just want to stop there; Lindsay needed to jump out of her skin. Out of her bones. She wanted to jump out of existence.

A surge of adrenaline pounded through her chest as Lindsay ran from one side of the room to the other. She struggled through a hundred jumping jacks. Her feet hurt, and her breathing stopped. She pushed through a hundred more.

You’re just a lazy nobody.

Lindsay sprinted in tiny circles. So fast, her room didn’t take a concrete shape.

Nobody’s friends with you, they just pity you.

Fifty lunges until her calves screamed bloody murder.

Lindsay collapsed onto her bed in a cold sweat. Her face was on fire, but the rest of her body shivered, even when covered in two heavy knit sweaters. She felt like she was going to throw up, but she couldn’t quit now. Two hundred more push ups, and she could burn off the rest of yesterday’s dinner. God. What if she was so fat by the time she met with Damon, he couldn’t even look at her? What if she got so huge she looked like a fool with a soccer ball?

Lindsay jumped out of bed and made manic attempts to comb her hair when her door creaked open. She wiped at her smudged eyeliner, but it didn’t do any good. Lindsay was still that dead-eyed raccoon. Christina stepped inside and looked at her daughter scrunching her eyebrows in front of a mirror that was freshly cleared of dust. She gently whisked her away from what Dr. Farnsworth called “The distortion machine,” and sat Lindsay down on her bed. She took control of the comb and swiftly began to work through the knots on Lindsay’s head, gently caressing her forehead as she worked. Lindsay resisted at first, but later fell into her mother’s lap. Christina sniffled at the same time Lindsay tried to cry, but there was no more water left in her to produce tears.

“Lindsay,” Christina whispered, “I’m worried for you. We all are.”

Lindsay shifted uncomfortably, and broke physical contact. Now was the time that she was supposed to explain. To talk. She couldn’t begin to explain the inane twists and turns that were her thoughts. Not when she had barely tried to figure them out.

“I’m fine.”

Christina turned to rub Lindsay’s shoulders, but she retracted from the touch, afraid of human affection.

“We’re on your side, sweetie. Your dad and I, we’re so proud of you. You don’t have to exercise until you pass out up here to prove your worth,” Christina continued. She paused to hold herself together.

Maybe Christina had her fleeting moments of pride, but Lindsay doubted that Richard could feel anything but disappointment, especially when it came to family.

“Yeah. Right.”

If Richard hadn’t screamed at her the night before, maybe Lindsay would have taken the time to try to believe her mother. But he had screamed at her. He had scared her so much that she quaked to think about being in the same room with him. And he had lost her trust for a very, very long time.

*

*

*

*
*

When she finally saw Lindsay tip-toe into the kitchen, Christina rushed to the pancakes that were sizzling on the girdle. Richard brought a spatula over, and instructed Christina to go sit down.

“Just make sure you don’t burn them,” Christina pleaded, “Lindsay won’t touch burnt food.”

Richard decided to ignore the fact that Lindsay wouldn’t touch any food. He just silently pushed the pancakes around, and watched Lindsay take great effort to sit at the table. Her movements were so frail and fragile that she took on the impression of an old woman.

“Hey, Mom.” Lindsay pulled closer to Christina and gave her an awkward hug. It lasted less than two seconds, but Christina looked appreciative anyway. Richard couldn’t remember the last time Lindsay hugged him. He flipped two more pancakes.

“We got lots of food here.” Richard pointed to the selection of cereal boxes, sausage, and bagels that were on the table, “just take your pick.” If only it was that easy.

Lindsay looked across the table and her expression picked up fear. She did this whenever she calculated how much food Richard and Christina could try to force down her throat. Richard was growing tired of turning breakfast, lunch, and dinner into world war three. Why couldn’t she just eat? Richard couldn’t imagine such a lively girl not wanting to find the joy in food.

“I’m really not that hungry,” Lindsay said. She glanced at the side of the cereal box. Richard had scribbled over the nutrition facts. Maybe if Lindsay didn’t know her caloric intake, she could enjoy food more. But she only looked more fearful.

“Nonsense,” Richard replied cheerfully, the last emotion he actually felt, “you’ve had a stressful night yesterday. Stress builds up the appetite.”

Lindsay’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Richard sighed. Some people didn’t want to feel stress because it made them anxious. Lindsay didn’t want to feel stress so she wouldn’t be tempted to eat.

Richard piled one, two, three giant chocolate chip pancakes onto Lindsay’s plate. “Yes, ma’am. And you want to fuel that energy with this masterpiece. I slaved over a hot stove all five minutes to make these,” he said, giving a fake smile. His jaw tensed up as he watched Lindsay take one microscopic bite of pancake, after slowly cutting it up into twenty seven pieces. Richard counted every incision. She squeezed her eyes shut after biting a particularly chocolaty piece. Instead of relishing the taste, Lindsay looked like she was in pain. Richard didn’t know what was worse: watching the torture, or experiencing it.

Half an hour crept by, and Lindsay had barely gotten through half a pancake. Outside, Richard heard dogs barking and kids laughing. That was where the real world was happening. Inside, Lindsay was hyperventilating. Here, inside the Herkins’ breakfast nook, the world halted. Richard poured a tall glass of milk, and felt a sliver of relief when Lindsay immediately drank from it. That was progress, considering the last time he asked Lindsay to drink some milk she had chucked it against the wall. It left a huge stain next to the utensil drawer.

“How is it?” Christina asked. That had been her role so far: the encouraging parent. The feel good, go to mom. Richard had tried every method but that. No matter how hard he tried to prove otherwise, Richard would always be the scary one in Lindsay’s eyes. It made losing his teenage daughter go from a possibility to an approaching reality. In a sense, it had already happened.

Lindsay didn’t respond to Christina’s question; she was purely focused on taking increasingly tinier bites. It wasn’t that long ago that she would have gulped down a breakfast twice the size of what she was currently given, somehow savoring every bite at such a fast pace. She would have bolted up the stairs to shove her hair into a messy ponytail, then bounded right back out the door to meet with her friends. She was amazing, Richard remembered, she was unstoppable. She even had the energy to race back home and organize a family soccer game that, if she had any say in it, would continue well past sunset. The hurdles back then were only minor obstacles. It had seemed so promising that they would stay that way.

One pancake later, Richard tapped Christina on the shoulder and asked, “Should we call the Doctor now, and see if...?”

“Later,” Christina cut him off, “For now, let’s wait.”

Lindsay froze in her tracks. “What?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

*
*
*
*
*
*


When Lindsay saw both her parents sit in unison, she knew she was in for a lecture. And not just a “clean your room or it’s no allowance for you, missy” type deal. This was serious. By the looks of their sullen expressions, Lindsay’s parents were not playing around.

Christina started, after gathering her thoughts. “We know you’re making progress, but we’re just...we’re...concerned that it might be too much to ask of you to make this kind of leap alone.”

“What are you talking about?” Lindsay let her fork clank on the white china plate. She wasn’t alone. She had her parents. Clueless as they were, she had to admit they kept her in line. She had her friends. She had Forrest. Those people didn’t let her be alone...didn’t they?

Christina looked at Lindsay’s half-eaten meal and tried again. “We think it might be best if you spent a few a couple more weeks in the hospital.” She could hardly get the words out. Lindsay could hardly take them in.

No. No! Lindsay could not go back there. That would equal one step forward and a billion steps back. All the group discussions, therapeutic activities, and interrogations were enough to make anybody insane. Lindsay just could not do it. It simply wasn’t an option to her. Why was it a fallback plan for Richard and Christina?

“I don’t understand,” Lindsay said towards the floor.

Richard gestured towards the pancakes that had gotten cold. “Why don’t you finish your breakfast?” he suggested. Lindsay’s hurried “no,” came out a little more harshly than she intended.

“See? That’s what we mean,” Richard said, looking almost smug. It killed Lindsay to see him that way. Just how heartless could her father get?

“Richard, please,” Christina warned him, and turned back to Lindsay. “You have to understand, that we’re doing this to get you help. We’re not equipped to get you the treatment you deserve.”

Lies. All of it. Lindsay stamped her foot. All they want is to get me out of their way. They don’t want to deal with imperfection.

That’s what Lindsay was. Walking imperfection. All the years of sprinting on eggshells, desperate not to break them, had caught up on her.

“How will going back...there make me better? I’m already just great.” Lindsay had a few other choice words for “there” in the back of her mind.

“Do you feel great?” Christina asked like she really did want to know.

Could’ve fooled me,Lindsay thought, as the silence sunk in.

She tried again, going for the more reasonable approach. She tried to choke back the panic, but it made breathing somewhat more along the lines of thrashing about in a rip tide.

“Look, guys, it’s just been a few weeks.” Lindsay forced a gigantic fork full into her mouth. She stuffed two more quickly after that. She couldn’t even register the taste, but she couldn’t feel the fear either, as she was eating so fast. “See? I’m already eating.”

Anything to not go back there. I will eat my left shoe if I have to. Hell, I’ll inhale my left foot. Please don’t send me back there, Lindsay prayed silently to anyone who would listen.

Her parents could not believe what they were seeing. Was it working? Were Lindsay’s habits changing right before their eyes, so soon? They held onto a little thread of hope, but deep down, Christina knew this wouldn’t last forever. Lindsay still had a lot to conquer.

Christina encouraged Lindsay, just in case it was genuine progress. “Honey, that’s great! How do you feel?”

“Hungry.” Lindsay tried to stuff half a pancake in her mouth. It was true. The manic eating made her hunger catch up with her, and she couldn’t consider how much she was taking in. She physically could not stop. Christina couldn’t bear to warn her to slow down.

Lindsay poured herself a tall glass of milk, downed it, and immediately poured another. It felt so good to have the cold, sweet liquid sliding down her throat. She had missed that feeling. She never wanted that feeling to go away.

Christina tried not to watch in horror. If Sondra had eaten like this (which she was known to do, after returning home from a dance rehearsal), she would have snatched the food away from her daughter and instructed her with some basic table manners. In this case, Christina tried to turn her instinct of disgust into joy. Even if it was fake progress, something to get Lindsay away from the hospital, she was eating nonetheless.

“All done.” Lindsay firmly rooted her empty glass onto the table. She felt like she had rebooted herself for the next twenty years. “Still think I should go to the hospital?” she challenged.

Richard and Christina exchanged wary glances.

“How about this,” Christina started, although she had been warned not to negotiate with the irrational part of Lindsay, “how about we schedule a meeting with Dr. Farnsworth, and see what she thinks?”

That was far from the answer Lindsay wanted to hear. Dr. Farnsworth was nothing but an overpaid misfit who got paid a million dollars a year by asking people who they felt about stuff. She started to tell her mother this.

“Careful Lindsay, she’s your doctor, and she’s helped this family out more than you could possibly imagine,” Richard warned, “I don’t want to hear you expressing any disrespect towards her.”

Too late, Lindsay thought, but stayed silent.

“Fine. Schedule a meeting with the idiot, for all I care. It’s a complete waste of money. She’s just going to tell you that I’m doing great.”

“That’s what we all want to hear.” Christina took Lindsay’s plate over to the sink, inspecting it thoroughly.

“May I be excused?” Lindsay was growing impatient. She loved her mother, but she found her to be routinely wrong. That was not what they all wanted to hear. If they wanted her to be doing great, they’d be running in the exact opposite direction of the hospital.

“Sure, why don’t you go get a head start on your homework? You have a lot to catch up on,” Christina said. Lindsay nodded in pretend agreement. If getting rid of the evils of the food she’d just consumed was homework, she’d be getting an A+. The bathroom door creaked open, and Lindsay stepped inside.

She had tried this trick before, but without much food in her system, the sight of the toilet was too daunting to do the dirty work. Now, with a full stomach and a clearer head, Lindsay saw it as a welcome mat for anything that was unwelcome for her body. She took her strong gag reflex as a challenge she could meet head on. Lindsay stuck two fingers far down her throat. Nothing. She pushed even further, and watched as the unwanted food came up. She felt about twenty pounds lighter, like one meal weighed her down more than she could possibly handle. Lindsay peered down and saw her accomplishment: blood swirled in with the yellow mess that was her breakfast. Disgusting as it was, Lindsay smiled anyway. Some girls didn’t have the strength to do this. Some had to resort to running away from food completely. But now Lindsay found this, and that made her strong.

The question was, why was she feeling so angry about it?

Lindsay washed her hands three times. She inspected the remnants that flooded down the drain, and tried not to cry. She felt dizzy and wobbly all of a sudden. The black glint that surrounded her made Lindsay feel like she was in a place she’d never seen before. Even with time, the dizziness worsened. The entire house seemed to be spinning around her.

Lindsay carefully inched towards the floor, got on her hands and knees, and crawled a few feet to her room. With every last bit of energy she had, Lindsay grabbed her cell phone from her dresser, and pressed 2. She had to wait a few rings before Forrest picked up, and when his voice came onto the other end, it was enough to send Lindsay into a fit of sobs once more.

“Lindsay, what’s wrong? What the hell happened?”

“Please come and get me.” Lindsay couldn’t find the patience to spend time without him. He was the only human that made her feel alive.

Forrest perked up, but alarm soon followed. The spontaneity frightened him. Sure, he had some experience with it, but hardly thought that a sweet, girl-next-door type would too. He was always in for a surprise with that girl.

Lindsay heard a significantly less gruff voice fill her ear, as Forrest softly whispered, “I don’t think it’s the best idea for me to come parading around your house. Your folks...they’re probably less than pleased with somebody who sent their daughter back home in a totally fucked up state of mind.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I still feel bad,” Forrest said simply.

“Yeah.” Lindsay’s response was sharp. She hated to think that she was responsible for anyone’s guilt.

“So...you want me to get in trouble?”

“Of course not!” Lindsay said, horrified he would think she had that idea, “I just...can’t you...sneak in through the window or something?”

Forrest fell back onto his blood-red futon and chuckled. There she was, the girl he knew and loved. The one who got reckless ideas that involved your typical romantic comedy scene. What real people actually climbed through a window?

“Are you watching the Lifetime channel?” Forrest asked. Lindsay looked over at the blurred TV screen. Two good looking actors were kissing passionately. Forrest certainly did know his audience.

“Okay, point taken. But still, if I spend another minute in this house, I’ll very likely injure my hand punching a wall.”

“Don’t do that. You have very pretty hands,” Forrest joked.

“Um. Thank you?” Lindsay had never been complimented about her hands before. She held her free hand in front of her and inspected it, glad that somebody was appreciative.

“Tell you what.” Forrest gripped his guitar, and strummed a few strings while inventing his plan, “let’s meet at that field you and and my bro Mr. Bigshot were playing at. I have a surprise for you.”

Lindsay usually hated surprises. Now, she could not wait.

Lindsay had to hold herself back and count to ten before telling her parents she had to make a library run. They must have been busy, she thought, because they let her off the hook surprisingly easily. Or, maybe they were starting to gain a little trust, at the same time Lindsay gained a little weight.

She sprinted off to the field Forrest had referred to. She was completely out of breath by the time she took flopped onto the grass, and her fragile body definitely hindered her, but her head was strong.

“Forrest?” Lindsay looked around, waiting for him to pop out from behind the trees. She called again, lightly, so as not to seem desperate.

“Oh Forrest?” She sang out, “where are you?” she couldn’t shake the tone of anxiety.

Silence. Had he forgotten to show up? Maybe he had fooled her. Maybe he was one of those guys that granted a million promises to a million girls, and followed through with one of them, at most. It wasn’t that hard to make Lindsay blind to love, she realized; she was hardly an expert on it. Her naïvté flashed like neon colors, and it was quite possible that Forrest was taking full advantage of that. How had Lindsay waited so long to consider that possibility? She felt stupid and cheated for thinking it could never happen to her.

“Over here!” Forrest’s voice was distant, but distinct.

Relief flooded over Lindsay, and she looked for the voice that echoed to her left. She heard the voice say “hurry up!”, but it didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Lindsay decided to change her direction to the right.

“Colder...colder...”

And back to her left.

“Hotter...hotter...”

The phrase was an indicator that Lindsay was closer to her designated path, but she blushed at the word anyway. She took three giant steps, a few smaller ones, and then...

“And you’re burning up! Call an ambulance, because I think you’re on fire!” Forrest was standing in front of the community pool adjacent to the field. That pool was so much of Lindsay’s childhood, but nearly forgotten for many years. Forrest’s face shone in the glimmer of the surface water. He pulled Lindsay into a warm hug. Lindsay wanted to cling onto that hug for the rest of her life, but she let the embrace fall away as she looked up into his huge, brown eyes. A chill traveled down her spine.

“Hey.” Lindsay nuzzled into his shoulder. It smelled deeply of cologne. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem. But...if I may ask...you sounded pretty desperate on the phone. No one’s trying to kidnap you, right?” He brushed Lindsay’s hair back.

Lindsay laughed. Only Forrest could turn a dire situation into a light one.

“No,” she said slowly, “but my parents are being, well...”

“Parents,” Forrest confirmed. That was all he needed to show that he really understood. Finally, there was somebody who didn’t find Lindsay’s need to get away from home insane. She wanted to thank him, but something was holding her back. She’d do it later, but for now, she nuzzled further into him, loving the moment for what it was. This was all she needed.

“I think you’re forgetting something.” Forrest broke the silence. Lindsay looked up in surprise. She didn’t know what she could possibly be forgetting, when she had everything.

“The surprise...?” Forrest nudged her.

“Oh right!” She had been looking so forward to it too, but the distraction of Forrest’s presence promptly made her forget.

How Stupid for a boy just standing there to make me melt into a puddle, Lindsay thought, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her brain was thought soup whenever Forrest was around.

“So? What is it?” Lindsay had no idea what to expect. She was blindly following each of Forrest’s schemes as they went along, thrilled by each winding turn he took.

“It wouldn’t really be a surprise, if I told you, now would it?” Forrest winked, “Follow me.” He took Lindsay’s hand. Her feet moved, but her heart stayed frozen in fear, wonder, excitement...

She thought for sure Forrest had lost it completely when he began climbing on the ladder to the diving board. A gust of wind came up from the fresh spring air, gathering speed in the pool’s water, eventually blowing into Lindsay’s face. She shivered, and tried to step down from the ladder, but Forrest kept his palm fused to her.

“What are we doing?”

“Patience, Lindsay, is a virtue.” He waited for Lindsay to shakily take the rest of the steps onto the slippery surface. She cautiously viewed the water below her. This did not seem real. Being here with Forrest, being above a pool when it was barely above 60 degrees out, not knowing what could come next, it was all a dream.

“I want you to close your eyes.”

Was it?

Lindsay squeezed her eyes shut, squeezing Forrest’s hands even tighter. For all she knew, he could push her off the edge of the board, but Lindsay had faith in him. She now trusted his intentions.

A few seconds, and nothing happened. Lindsay wanted very badly to open her eyes, but she remained loyal to Forrest’s instructions. Then, a magic tingling came onto her lips, and she was deep into the softest kiss she had ever felt. Forrest’s touch was gentle, yet leading. Lindsay’s heart exploded into a million bits. Not of terror, though, but of joy. She leaned into the kiss, and let her tongue explore the crevices of Forrest’s mouth. She put all her past emotions and experiences into this kiss, but at the same time, for once, she completely let herself go.

When they broke apart, Lindsay let herself study Forrest’s face. It looked plainly familiar, like she had seen it her entire life. But it was also the most spectacular thing in the world.

Forrest leaned in for one more kiss, and Lindsay’s heart thumped harder. He stepped back, and grazed Lindsay’s back, urging her to take a step forward.

“On three,” he commanded, “we jump.”

Lindsay had not heard him correctly. He couldn’t mean jump into the pool on an April afternoon. That was past crazy, even for Forrest’s standards.

“One...”

Apparently he was not kidding.

“Two...” Lindsay found herself bending her knees in preparation. What was she doing?

“Th-” Lindsay flung herself off of the board, Forrest close behind her. She had done it. She had jumped.

“Ah!” Lindsay dove through the water. “That was awesome!” She playfully ducked her head underwater and pounced behind Forrest. He watched her enthusiasm with underplayed amusement.

“Yeah, you’re a real champ at the belly flop.” Lindsay gave him a mock-stern look.

“...Which takes real skill to make look graceful,” Forrest added, and swam towards her. Lindsay flicked his arm, and swam around in tiny circles, getting closer to Forrest each time.

“Hey, do me a favor?”

“Sure, beautiful.” The compliment didn’t sound canned. It was real.

“Kiss me again?” Lindsay got so close to Forrest, she could feel his breath on her cheek.

“My pleasure.” It was a solid minute before they broke apart. Or maybe two, or even three. Time wasn’t concrete for Lindsay any more. It was no matter of importance as long as she was in this bliss.

But, she did need to break for air. That much was necessary. Forrest couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“Aww man.” Lindsay grinned at him sheepishly.

“You’ll survive,” she replied.

“Will I?” It jumped out at Lindsay that he was basically saying he couldn’t live without her. Who knew that was possible?

Lindsay continued swimming around, on top of, and under Forrest, ducking from the playful lunges he made towards her. She felt chilled then numb. Whether it be the of the cold air, her nerves, or a combination of the two, Lindsay couldn’t stop. She couldn’t bear to be out of Forrest’s vicinity.

Forrest realized he had pushed her too far when he saw Lindsay’s lips turning purple. She shivered, but tried to mask it by plunging in and out of the water. When her face started turning abnormally violent shades of purple, Forrest figured it was time to say something.

“You do realize you’re turning into a human grape, right?”

Lindsay cringed. “Are you calling me fat?”

Forrest jumped out of the pool, and pulled Lindsay out right after. He threw a towel around her shaking body and held her tight. He looked straight into her eyes.

“Never, in a million years could I call you fat, you gorgeous thing,” he promised, “now let’s go get some warm clothes on you.”

Lindsay had never believed it when someone called her beautiful. She would assume it was a false promise, like a personal billboard people liked to use when showing off their manners. She had never sensed a real compliment. Until now.

“Forrest?” Lindsay said quietly.

Forrest looked up from digging through his bag, and kissed Lindsay’s cheek.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

No explanation or elaboration needed. He just zipped a sweater over Lindsay, and let her fall into one last deep kiss before heading to the car. It was a while before he answered, but when their hands finally broke free as Forrest climbed into the driver’s seat of his truck, he whispered into Lindsay’s ear, “You’re welcome.”

And you’re beautiful, he added to himself.

Chapter Eleven

It took Lindsay hours of staring at the ceiling before falling into a fitful sleep. She tossed and turned, but it didn’t bother her. Every hour of so, she’d wake up with a surge of energy, and she’d burst into a huge grin. It was though she entered the boy lottery, and she was the lucky contestant.

Lindsay checked her phone for the fifteenth time (not that she wasn’t obsessive or anything), and laughed quietly when she saw five new messages, all from Forrest. How did she ever get so lucky?

Hi.

I miss you.

Is it morning yet? I can’t sleep.

You’re awesome.

Still can’t sleep because you’re so awesome.

Maybe he had some danger to him, and maybe he wasn’t the epitome of innocence, but he cared.

Lindsay texted him back, telling him to go to sleep. She secretly hoped he wouldn’t, so he could continue sending cute messages.

Ring, ring. Lindsay’s phone buzzed on the bedside table.

But calling would work too. Lindsay held the phone to her ear.

“So may I ask what you’re doing up so late?” Lindsay asked flirtatiously. She flipped her hair back to look cute, only to realize he couldn’t actually see her.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Would it be too much to tell him she was up because she was wondering what he was thinking, where he was going, and what he was doing? She guessed it might, so she responded with a simple, “It got really cold in here, so I can’t sleep.”

“Did you feel that?” Forrest asked. Lindsay looked around. Maybe he was closer to her than she thought. She didn’t respond for a while, hopeful she might see a face emerge at her window.

“No worries, I’m not creeping on you or anything. I just mentally threw some blankets over you.”

Lindsay rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep the sheepish grin off her face. “That’s so dorky,” she laughed.

“But only a swift thing like me could pull it off.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Forrest. Get some sleep.”

“Ah you’ve got the discipline act going on,” Forrest said, “that, my friend, is hot.”

“And you, my friend, are tired. Seriously, I have a ton to do tomorrow. I gotta go.”

It took some struggle, but Forrest finally conceded. He was a strong negotiator, though, making Lindsay go through the “no you hang up!” “No, you!” routine.

It wasn’t that long ago that Lindsay laughed at the girls that couldn’t hang up the phone. Now she was one of them. She thought she finally won the battle of the telephone, when, four minutes and 30 seconds later a new message was on her phone:

Promise me this: My house, tomorrow at five. You’ll be there?

Lindsay felt like Christmas, Valentines day, and her birthday had all arrived at once. She wouldn’t miss it if she’d come down with the E.bola Virus.

Absolutely.

Damon was hopeful. It was a childish emotion to him, one that he’d learned to squash the same day he spotted facial hair. But he couldn’t let go of the idea that Lindsay would let him have a second chance at childish feelings. She didn’t exactly have a carefree spirit that flashed in front of the world around her, but Damon noticed some joy that with time, he just might be able to dig out. He considered the fierce rage Lindsay covered up when Olivia prodded her to eat a bite of pizza. So maybe the joy wouldn’t surface after a date or two, but if he kept trying, maybe she could go the distance.

Was this even a date? Damon doubted it. Not with that kid he’d seen Lindsay grip onto in the picture.The sulky looking one who wouldn’t know a comb if it hit him on the head. Just in case that turned Lindsay on, Damon ruffled up his parted brown locks. There. Now he could be messy enough to show he wasn’t pretentious. Lindsay probably didn’t go for the pretentious guys anyway.

Damon picked up speed once he saw the soccer field. He took the freshly-purchased soccer ball out of his gym bag and let it roll onto the grass. He gave it a good smack, pretending it was Forrest’s head. It felt freeing; Damon grinned sheepishly and kicked the ball with pure confidence. It missed the goal by an inch.

Hope she didn’t see that. Damon looked around for Lindsay, but concluded he was safe from any embarrassment. Lindsay still hadn’t shown up. Damon didn’t know if he should be concerned, mad, or if he should feel stupid because he possibly had shown up on the wrong day. He thought back to their conversation. They had agreed Saturday, hadn’t they?

“She’s not coming.”

Not only was Damon screwing up dates, but now he was being followed. He whirled his head around, and saw Lexi saunter through the soccer field. She stopped to send the ball flying into the goal, then walked right past as if nothing had ever happened.

“Who, what, when-?” Damon choked out.

“Where, why?” Lexi finished with a wink, “man, that was eloquent. You might want to work on the whole fixture of sentences before you get a date with her.”

Damon sat down defeatedly. “Yeah, and when is that going to happen?” He didn’t realize how much he was putting into that one little date until he felt like hibernating for a million years all because of a certain whim of Lindsay’s. It was cruel how much the human heart could put into a crush.

Lexi patted Damon on the shoulder and playfully hit his foot. “I think the real question is why do you want this to happen?”

“Very funny.” Damon normally appreciated Lexi’s offbeat humor, but not tonight. He looked at his watch. 8:00. She definitely wasn’t planning on showing up anytime soon.

“No, I’m serious.” Lexi looked him dead on. “You want to date some girl who flings herself face first into danger? That Forrest kid, he’s bad news wrapped up into one reggae-looking fool.”

Damon had figured that much. But what could he do, force Lindsay into his own life? She was far too independent to be told to do. But Damon wasn’t, and he needed help. He slid onto the grass right beside Lexi. Lexi looked perturbed for a minute, but collected herself so fast that Damon thought he could have been imagining things.

“Tell me what to do,” Damon said. Lexi would have the answers. She always did. But when she hung her head and studied each piece of grass like it was a rare stone of some sort, Damon realized that Lexi wasn’t any better prepared than the rest of them. They were all just flailing about, madly hoping for Lindsay to come to her senses on her own terms.

“I don’t know,” Lexi admitted, “I’m scared as hell for her. And I know she won’t forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me.”

Damon suddenly became just as interested in the grass as Lexi. Not only was he confused, but terrified as well. Terrified to hear the back story Lexi was setting up, and terrified that it might lower his chance of supporting Lindsay.

Lexi looked him dead on. “She doesn’t trust us because of me. Truth is, I kinda hate myself for it.”

Damon gulped. It would definitely lessen their chances of supporting Lindsay. Of helping Lindsay, if what Lexi was saying was true.

“Something’s wrong,” Damon said lightly, “You’re talking like a real human being with real human insecurities.”

“Oh, shut up.” Lexi playfully punched Damon’s shoulder, and they both burst out laughing. It felt right to let everything go after being trapped in fear for so long. They couldn’t live in guilt forever. Lexi howled and Damon tickled her to provoke the fit of giggling. Damon stopped only to catch his breath. When they were completely rid of any laughter, they fell silent, and watched the sun set. Damon knew they were both thinking of the same thing.

“I screwed up,” Lexi said quietly. Damon had never seen her look so lost. He wondered what Lexi could possibly have done that would make her break the barrier of confidence that she held so nicely. Damon tried to stay silent. He wanted to stay silent, but words escaped him.

“Hey Lexi?” Lexi turned her head. She could anticipate Damon’s next question, and she was not looking forward to it.

“What happened on the night of the away game?” Damon asked. He wasn’t challenging, just curious. A lot seemed to lead back to that night; Damon had heard Olivia reference it several times, always sure to exclude the details that might make Lindsay or Lexi look bad.

Lexi drew in a shaky breath, and waited a full minute before she answered, “I forgot that was before Olivia adopted the new geeky science kid.”

“The new geeky science kid being...”

“You, yes.”

“I’m flattered.” Damon sounded sarcastic, but he knew it was true. He also knew it probably didn’t bother Lexi too much. She never paid much attention to labels. She dared to challenge them.

“You should be,” Lexi said sincerely, “It was a lot better than what Lindsay was turning into. A poser. A clone. She wanted to be one of those boy crazy, straight-haired fools that we spent the whole summer making fun of.”

Damon nodded. He’d seen a bit of that coming from Lindsay.

“Something about her changed when we started school,” Lexi continued, and stopped to laugh dryly at herself.

“Does that sound like a cliché?” Lexi asked, not really expecting an answer.

It did. Damon shrugged.

“That’s what she was: a walking, talking cliche. Every single move was calculated. She stopped playing frisbee with me and Olivia because it was too childish. She stopped going on hikes with my family because it would ruin her clothes.”

If Damon hadn’t already met Lindsay, he would hate her. Maybe he would have less patience for her if he didn’t know how the story ended.

Damon had to ask. He didn’t mean to pry, but he had to know.

“Why do you think she changed?”

Lexi immediately tightened up and let the defensive act guide her.

“What do I look like, a psychic?”

“You might if you had about five more bracelets on.”

Lexi examined the ten bracelets that were already hanging on her rest.

“How kind of you.”

Damon was about to stand up, thinking he couldn’t get an answer out of Lexi, but she pulled him back down.

“Wait. I’m sorry.”

Damon relaxed. “Did you know that the defense mechanism is the third most common portrayal of insecurity among American women?”

“Oh yeah?” Lexi looked genuinely interested, “What’s the first?”

“Eating disorders.”

Lexi looked at Damon in disbelief.

“It’s true,” he said flatly. He hoped it wasn’t insensitive. At the very least, he could be assured that Lindsay wasn’t alone.

“It figures,” Lexi said. “Lindsay always had a knack for irony.”

Damon studied Lexi’s expression. It was a mix of disapproval and regret. She looked like a stranger when she let a trace of the unknown take over. He reminded her that she still hadn’t guessed what made Lindsay different.

“A bunch of things, most likely. I’d place major bets on her parents going on pressure overload.”

“Ah. I see,” Damon whispered. He was familiar with strict parent issues, but he just avoided it by spending hours at the library.

Lexi let Damon digest the information, and then continued, “She was out of it for a while. I tried to get Olivia to talk to her ‘cause she’s more personable, but Lindsay kept a clear distance. We didn’t really know how to help her, but we didn’t know how dangerous it was.”

Damon nodded. If you didn’t want to believe something, you could make yourself not see it.

“She started off by losing a little weight. Everyone on the team congratulated her for it, but she lost focus too. She ditched more and more practices. Coach yelled at her a little bit, but not enough to make anything stick. She was already slipping. So by the night of the game, my guess is she had already pushed herself too hard way before.”

Damon rested his hand on Lexi’s shoulder. Her words were taking more effort to string together as sentences. Lexi wasn’t the crying type, but it was hard for her to re-live the story. Damon waited patiently for her to move on to describe the night of the away game. He was beginning to imagine the worst. Had she collapsed? Gotten injured?

“She missed a goal,” Lexi said finally. Damon pretended he hadn’t heard her right.

“Come again?” Damon thought maybe there was more. A missed goal couldn’t be the cause for so much emotion.

“You don’t understand, Damon. She never missed any goals. She was unbeatable. Our team had a running joke that she was bionic or something. But that night, she couldn’t keep focus. And me, being the fantastic f***-up of a friend, screamed at her. I told her to get the hell off the field, and never come back until she could play soccer like it wasn’t some huge joke to her.” Lexi was closer to tears than Damon had ever seen, and she started to shake. She jumped up from the grass and ran around the field to make the pain less obvious, but Damon wasn’t fooled. For the longest time, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Anybody who wasn’t Lexi would want to be comforted, to be told that it wasn’t their fault, and they had a right to get angry. Lexi would know it was empty comfort; it was partly her fault, and she didn’t have a right to get angry.

“A week later, she collapsed of ‘dehydration.’ Everyone who doesn’t live under a rock knows that’s code for anorexia,” Lexi said bitterly.

Damon felt like he had been fed fire. His stomach churned violently as he watched Lexi discreetly wipe away some tears. It didn’t help much when her sobs won the battle. She turned her back away from Damon, who knew better than to try to inch closer to her.

“It wasn’t just a coincidence,” Lexi said shakily.

Damon had heard the preachings before. That you couldn’t be the cause for someone else’s unhappiness. That contentment had to come from yourself.

But what if someone else pushed you to hate yourself? Damon thought about Lexi’s story. He thought about Lindsay’s hesitant expression every time she had to so much as look at Lexi. It made more sense now, but Damon also knew it wasn’t over between the two friends. He’d caught some hope in Lindsay’s caution; she seemed to want to be friends with Lexi, she just needed someone to help her get there.

Damon didn’t assure Lexi of any of this. Nine times out of ten his advice was disregarded as unimportant and a “man’s perspective” that may as well have been no perspective. Lexi would find Lindsay’s friendship when the time was ready. For now, she just needed to lay off some of the blame. Damon stood up, wiped the grass stains off his jeans, and kicked the soccer ball over to Lexi, who looked up in surprise.

“I’m open,” Damon called.

Lexi wiped off the remaining tears and looked from Damon to the ball and back again.

“Since when do you play soccer?”

“Since right now. Get up.”

Even though he had told her to stand up and kick the ball, Damon was still shocked when Lexi listened, and even more so when she sent the ball flying straight into the goal without missing a beat.

“One, zero,” Lexi announced, shaking some dirt off her hands, “so far you’re on fire.”

“I wasn’t prepared,” Damon defended meekly.

“Oh, you thought I was gonna kick like a girl, is that it?” Lexi teased.

“Not a chance.”

Lexi winked as she picked up the ball and tossed it to Damon, letting him redeem himself. As far as he knew, all he had to do was focus really hard on the goal, and it would be a straight shot. He sent the ball soaring. It missed. Damon thought he should be glad Lindsay wasn’t there to see such a disgraceful soccer game, though he was still in the habit of imagining everything she’d see and do in response to the game. He was hanging out with a meta-Lindsay if there ever was one.

“Just breathe,” she’d say. Or would she? Maybe she would say something sarcastic. Or encouraging. Or maybe she’d run straight over to the ball and whack at it with all her might.

Damon didn’t know what she’d do, because Lindsay would kind of have to show up before he could get to know her. Minor detail, having the person physically there.

Lexi abandoned the game when she kicked the ball, without very much effort, into the goal twice more.

“No offense man, but you kinda suck.” Damon flinched. There was only so much of Lexi’s attitude he could take.

“I’m rusty is more like it,” he said.

“Rust on an invisible nail.”

“That was deep.”

Lexi bounced the ball on her head and chucked it across the field, straight towards where the sun was setting. “I know.”

With a pointless game behind them, and nothing of interest to do, Damon and Lexi started to walk home. They stopped at a narrow path with wilting sunflowers along the edge, and Lexi yanked one out of the dirt, slowing down to put it in her hair.

“How’s it look?” Lexi asked, flashing a model pose.

The mood was sombre without Lindsay there to flesh out the group, but Damon cracked up anyway. That was the thing about Lexi that Damon appreciated; she always knew exactly what he needed without anybody saying it.

“Terrible,” Damon said smiling. Lexi immediately pulled the sunflower out of her hair as they kept on walking down the path.

“Can’t be any worse than how I feel.”

The first thing Lindsay saw was beer cans. Dozens of them, tossed on the ground and scattered next to a coffee table that looked like it had been scratched at by some rabid wolf. The entire living room was dark; the navy blue blinds had been drawn over the windows, letting in only a crack of afternoon sun. Lindsay pinched her nose as she braved the kitchen, doubting it could possibly get worse. She was wrong. The kitchen was permeated with a rotting smell, and a burnt scent came from the oven. It seemed strange that anyone who lived in such a miserable place would even attempt to cook.

“Oh s***, the cookies!” Forrest ran two giant leaps and thrust the oven door open. He pulled out a platter of grey blobs that might have been chocolate chip cookies in another lifetime. Forrest hit his head on the wall repeatedly and cursed himself before he displayed the failed experiment to Lindsay.

“I’m so sorry. I guess there’s a reason Toni told me not to create the false impression that I could cook around here.” He dumped the cookies in the garbage, except for one. He shrugged and bit into it.

“Maybe they’re salvageable.” Lindsay heard a loud crack come from Forrest’s mouth, and saw him pull out a cookie that didn’t even have the faintest of teeth marks on it.

“But maybe not.”

Lindsay did her best to look disappointed, but relief flooded over her. She really couldn’t afford to shove extra calories into her already bloated body; she was already planning how to get rid of the five awful pounds of lard that she’d gained since her mom decided to track each bite that Lindsay consumed.

“That’s okay, I’m not big on eating anyway,” Lindsay said. Forrest hugged her waist from behind and nuzzled into her neck.

“Damn shame, you skinny little thing. We gotta get some meat on those bones.” He was lying when he said that, but Lindsay didn’t want to seem ungrateful. From the looks of Forrest’s house, Lindsay’s eating habits were the least of his problems.

“So this is it,” Forrest said, un-enthused, “home sweet home.”

Lindsay looked around and saw Toni creep up the stairs and wave to Lindsay.

“Hey there,” she said, “If you’re wondering why it looks like no one’s cleaned this place in a hundred years, you’ve just discovered secret number one about your boyfriend: he’s a total slob.”

“And proud of it.” Forrest plopped down on the couch.

“Which is not really a turn on, might I add.” Toni kicked Forrest’s feet, but Lindsay came quick to his rescue.

“I don’t mind,” she insisted.

“That’s what they all say.”

They all? Lindsay looked at Toni curiously, who realized the implications and stumbled over her words.

“Um, I mean, family and stuff--When Forrest’s mom came here, you should have heard the lectures on roaches.” Toni looked down at her feet through the story.

Good save.

How could someone who seemed to have such a handle on things allow his home to become a pigsty? Lindsay should have been able to let the discomfort pass, and it shouldn’t have bothered her. But it did. She felt her fists tense up as she sat stiffly next to Forrest. Toni jumped right in between them and lunged for the remote.

“Hope you don’t mind,” she said brightly, “My sister just took up the violin, and I’m gonna go insane if I have to listen to another half hour of a cat fight imitation.”

“It’s fine.” Lindsay crossed and uncrossed her legs. She looked over at Forrest, who did the same. If Lindsay was uncomfortable, Forrest was ten times more so. It was strange how the magic of a person could disappear once you visited their house. Lindsay didn’t know what to expect, but she soon realized she had built up the assumption that Forrest lived on some farm where he romped around with Toni and Eric all day, doing whatever he pleased. That had to be the case for someone who was so casual all the time.

But like everyone else, Forrest had issues. Or his house did at least. Oh, how naive Lindsay could be.

“I think I have to get going...” Lindsay started. Forrest jumped in.

“You don’t like it here.”

“That’s not it.”

“Yes it is.” Forrest stamped his foot on the ground and muttered under his breath, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

Insecurity did not suit Forrest well. Lindsay felt like she was watching a stranger who she was supposed to be dating. She felt like she was going to throw up. The stranger walked towards the door. The stranger told Toni he was going to be a few hours, then he pulled Lindsay up off the couch, brought her outside, and told her just how sorry he was.

Lindsay grunted, “it’s okay. I was just overreacting.” Was she?

Then the stranger proceeded to make out with her. His lips felt cold and foreign. Yet far too familiar. A forceful tongue slipped into her mouth. Lindsay’s breath became constricted. A hand crept up her thigh, and didn’t stop until-

“Forrest, stop,” Lindsay pleaded, but the words didn’t make it outside her own head. Another hand slid onto her waist.

“STOP!” Lindsay screamed and did not stop until Forrest’s hands flew to his side. He looked shocked. Then scared. Lindsay gasped for her breath.

The weight of Forrest’s hand flew off her legs, causing Lindsay to tumble butt-first into the sidewalk. She stuttered through an apology as she brushed the dirt off her legs and tried to stand back up. It wouldn’t have been a problem if her legs hadn’t insisted on becoming Jello at that moment.

“Oh my god I am so sorry,” Forrest rushed over to pull Lindsay up from the ground, “Did I move too fast? Are you uncomfortable? You’re right. Of course you’re right; we should wait-” Forrest’s rant was only making Lindsay feel worse, so she stiffly patted him on the shoulder and managed to get out a squeaky, “It’s-it’s not you, it’s me.” Ew. How many times plus a million had that one been used? Lindsay felt about as original as a Barbie Doll, only much more gross. She felt about as used as one too. Forrest’s quiet patience had disappeared in an instant, and his overbearing hormones had trumped his sensitivity. Lindsay did not know why guys were programmed to be idiots sometimes, but it didn’t help her feeling of self worth. Not that the feeling was there to begin with.

“Look, I really do have to get home and help my mom make dinner,” Lindsay said firmly. It was true. Christina was giving her a lesson on mac’n cheese, 430 calories per serving, 2.3 servings per plate. Plus dessert. Lindsay shivered and tried not to panic. Forrest rubbed Lindsay’s arm, but Lindsay quickly snatched it away. She couldn’t let anybody see her like this.

“Can I call you later?” Forrest asked.

“Sure...” Lindsay answered, sounding anything but sure. The only thing she knew she wanted was to get away and be alone.

The first thing most girls noticed about him was his stunning face. It was difficult not to, with his crystal blue eyes that sliced through your soul, cheekbones that put Johnny Depp’s to shame, and if that wasn’t enough, the “irresistible, kissable lips” were a deal breaker. What Lindsay had learned though, when her classmates were reciting the alphabet, was that she wasn’t like most girls. She could take or leave appearances. Sammy’s looks certainly didn’t diminish Lindsay’s joy, but it was his voice that struck her. The deep, soothing tones that reminded Lindsay of waves wishing through the ocean were what left an impression.

That, and the scar shaped like a cat head on her upper left thigh she had gotten when she had to fend him off. The third time, that is. The first two times didn’t require so much force.

And people say that high school will be the best times of your life. As far as Lindsay was concerned, those freakishly overpriced yearbooks lied. But they lied with pretty, color photos, so that made it okay. They also implied that most football players were not disgusting pigs who only wanted one thing. And so had Lindsay, for the naive half of her life.

Maybe what attracted her to Sammy was that he was larger than life. He was too good for the “best years of your life,” motto, while still pulling off the macho football player act. He was two polar opposites tumbled into one guessing game. It had been purely innocent for a while, if Lindsay didn’t think too hard about a push here and a shove there. She simply brushed that off as play; the bruises were only accidental. After all, Sammy was used to throwing around two-hundred pound guys who were fully protected by helmets and shoulder pads. So it wasn’t his fault, Lindsay always decided. Besides, she was too enthralled by the idea that someone had looked at her, rather than right through her. But later on, the stares seemed superficial and only seemed to buy Sammy what he wanted, not what Lindsay needed. Her self respect diminished right along with her virginity, but it was the only way to keep Sammy happy. It was the only way to keep them together.

So why was it that the more she gave, the less satisfied Sammy seemed to be? Every push got more violent. Every insult got harsher. Each comment Lindsay took to heart and made her feel like an empty shell. An empty shell who had to keep emptying herself so that someone so worthless would take up less space. Each bite she refused to take was one step closer to becoming Sammy’s dream girl. Each sprint on the treadmill would deepen their relationship. It was going in that direction, until Lindsay became so preoccupied with food, that her personality was eaten by the obsession. And so was the relationship.

Lindsay sometimes asked herself if she would still be in this mess if Sammy hadn’t entered the picture. What with her insecurities, and her mother hinting at the next diet the entire family should try, it wasn’t too far a reach to guess she would. Lindsay sat down on a rock to catch her breath, trying her very best to ignore the discomfort of feeling more than pure bone on her butt. The buffer between her and the rock was not a safety net. It was much, much scarier.

“Long time no see.” Lindsay’s neck snapped up. What she saw could not be real. Still, she recoiled anyways, trying to become invisible.

Sammy was not there. He was not walking closer to Lindsay. He was not wearing so much cologne it made Lindsay feel like she was suffocating.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

NO.

“Yes,” Sammy whispered, reaching his hand out to the small of Lindsay’s back. Lindsay automatically smacked the hand away without even processing what was going on.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Lindsay asked. She intended to sound firm and grounded, but the squeaking didn’t help her case much. Sammy knew she was neither grounded nor firm. He would take advantage of it, that much was obvious. He’d done so while they were dating, and a breakup would not get in his way of acting exactly the same.

“Waiting for you,” he answered coolly. His hand slithered up Lindsay’s back. His fingernails grabbed at her lithe bones and skin. She wanted so badly to get up off the rock that was growing more and more uncomfortable, and just leave. She could easily walk home and shake everything off as though it were a bad dream. But when she told her body to stand up and move, it didn’t listen. She remained stiff in one position. Sammy may as well have put her in a trance right on the spot. Tonight she wasn’t hypnotized by curiosity like she had been all those other nights. She was hypnotized by fear.

“You see there Lindsay, I wasn’t particularly fond of your previous response to me. Remember that? When you said you were ‘too busy’ to make room for me?”

Lindsay did remember that. She wanted it to stay that way. She was always careful not to have a life so she could make herself available to Sammy’s every whim and desire. But that didn’t matter to him, since his girlfriend was too chunky for them to ever be seen in public.

“What do you want?” Lindsay demanded. She wanted to add the words, “for me to be your little puppet for your oversexed self?”, but she couldn’t get them out. As terrible as it was to admit, Lindsay still cringed whenever she thought about saying or doing anything that would upset Sammy. She definitely couldn’t say out loud everything she really thought about him. She couldn’t completely shake the part of her that wanted to please Sammy, and for that she would always be trapped in her own hell.

“I thought I made that perfectly clear,” Sammy said, “I want you back.”

Well, you can’t have me. Say it. Say it now. You’re too good for him.

“I don’t-” Lindsay’s mouth glued shut before she could say the rest.

Never mind, you didn’t actually think you were good enough for anyone, did you? Didn’t know you had a sense of humor.

“I’ve missed you,” Sammy breathed, “and I think we both know you need me.”

Lindsay had spent hours telling herself she didn’t need him. She would face the discomfort of looking at her reflection in the mirror, and tell herself that he was a darker phase that could very well pass. The problem was, though, when she didn’t entirely believe herself then, she definitely didn’t believe herself now, when Sammy was practically breathing down her neck and telling her they were meant to be together.

Lindsay tried to sound rational by pointing out that there was a lot to consider, and that she didn’t know if she could trust Sammy ever again, but her words sounded garbled and they came out as a muffled string of words that to any other person might just sound like “I’ve missed you too.”

It was tricky, how her mouth and brain said two different things at the same time. Her mouth sometimes had a mind of its own, like when it made her lips just inches away from Sammy’s, which behaved far too similar to a magnet. And not the kind of magnets that pull away from each other.

“That’s it, don’t be scared,” Sammy soothed. Logical-Lindsay made a little “heh!” sound, but it was soon shushed by the magnet that was her entire face. Even after the throes of heartbreak, Lindsay’s heart still had some room to flutter and dance around. Sometimes love was fun. A little dangerous, sure, but excitement was the reason people turned to it.

For Lindsay though, love was that b**** in high school who always got you in trouble. It made her go from an “A” student to “C” in the span of two weeks, although spraining her ankle twice over while thinking about Sammy and crashing into soccer goals probably aided in that matter. Now it was Sammy who was crashing into her. His face drew uncomfortably close to Lindsay’s neck, hesitating for not even a milisecond before making skin to skin contact. Lindsay stopped mid-breath, and tried to smack him away. Again, her hand turned limp and failed to be of any use for her self protection.

“Sammy, please stop.” It wouldn’t convince someone who was utterly disgusted by her, not to mention a guy whose priority was to take advantage of her.

“Shh, no lies. You like this. Enjoy it while you can.”

“Or, hey dude, here’s a thought: you can shut up and let her go.” Sammy’s head whirled around to see Forrest step right smack in the middle of Sammy and Lindsay. Lindsay almost expected him to show up on a shining white stallion, although she did have to admit that the stick he was pointing at Sammy’s eye was just as impressive, if not more frightening. It worked on Sammy, who looked strained in not trying to move a muscle. When he finally had to blink, Forrest thrust the stick up against his arm. Sammy let out a surprisingly girly squeal and flinched.

“I think you got the wrong guy here,” Sammy said. He tried to sound intimidating, but his words trembled too much, and Forrest just laughed to himself as he gently tugged Lindsay away to a bench and wrapped his Jimi Hendrix sweater around her.

“I think I got just the right guy, and it is just the right moment to seriously mess you up.” His comeback shot out of his mouth without even a moment’s pause. It definitely was not his first confrontation, but he put as much vigor into the scene as though it was his last.

“Whoa man, chill,” Sammy said, making fun of Forrest’s speech, “Lindsay and I were just having a little chit-chat, catching up for old times’ sake.”

Because Lindsay really wanted to travel down that road again.

“Is that how you make small talk with everyone? Shoving your tongue down their throats? You must be a real hit at parties.”

“Watch it.” Sammy gave Forrest a warning shove. Forrest didn’t flinch.

“Let go of her.”

“Get the hell out of my face.”

“Get the f*** out of her life.”

Sammy rubbed his hands together and hit Forrest much harder than the first time. A bruise immediately started to form on his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” Forrest threatened. If he was scared, he was doing a fantastic job in hiding it.

When Lindsay came to Sammy’s defense in front of her friends, she would always use the line that he was all bark and no bite. That he wouldn’t physically harm anybody, he might just take a stab or two at their pride. Tonight though, he was past the smack-talking stage. He twisted Forrest’s arm like a wrench, leaving no pain to the imagination. By that point, Forrest could not handle it. He could not suppress the piercing shriek. Lindsay tried to cover both her ears and eyes at the same time, in the midst of her guilt of not going up and defending her boyfriend.

“Yowwwwwww!” Forrest finally wriggled out of Sammy’s grasp, and went straight for the area that would destroy Sammy’s cool, pride, and manhood in one swift kick. The shriek got ten times worse.

“And that, my friend, is how the city kids do it. So if you ever mess with her again, I will send you flying so hard against the curb that your best chances of having a kid is jacking that ugly-ass baby from the hospital that nobody will ever admit is theirs.”

It was the kind of speech somebody read from cue cards in movies. Lindsay never would have believed Forrest had come up with that firsthand, if she didn’t know him. Sammy’s last pitiful attempt at a glare barely even shook Forrest. He took hold of Lindsay’s hand, made sure she was okay, and they both took off in a sprint without looking back once.

“You have got to stop pining.”

Lindsay had spent four hours hunched over her desk, trying to finish her English homework. Most of had successfully been wasted checking and re-checking her calorie count, along with reading a few hopeful texts from Damon. When she got back to facing her homework, she was sure she had finally lost it officially, since she was hearing voices that could not come from her house.

“Seriously. Whether it’s over Sammy or that ice cream that’s been in your freezer for the past decade, it’s equally pathetic.”

A head popped into Lindsay’s room. Then another. They looked like whack-a-moles.

“Hey there, Mopey Dick.”

A whack-a-mole with Shirley Temple curls and attitude that would leave a bitter taste in your mouth. Olivia preferred to play under the radar, but she could throw out some “in your face” moments when she really wanted to.

“Feel free to eat that ice cream,” Lindsay answered through the door. She stared down a math problem whose Y-value seemed to have a personal grudge against her, and continued, “For the record, I am not pining.”

She could lie to her family, she could lie to her friends, but Lindsay couldn’t lie to herself. And she was pining. Big time.

Olivia dragged a very disgruntled Lexi into the room, and clasped her arm when Lexi made the slightest sign of escape.

“I don’t see why I have to-“ Lexi started, but Olivia’s reflexes were superhuman. She cupped her hand around Lexi’s mouth, turning the rest of the sentence into a very long hum of “mmmph.”

“When was the last time you went shopping?” Olivia asked. She rummaged through Lindsay’s closet. A bunch of soccer tee-shirts and cleats came flying towards the wall. Lindsay ducked just in time to avoid getting smacked by a pile of sweaters.

“Last week,” Lindsay said. It was true. She went with her mom to get jeans that wouldn’t slide down her butt. Christina resisted and tried to deny her fears by making Lindsay try on all her old pants, but they fell off her legs so fast, you’d think they had been slathered with oil. Even Christina had to admit that Lindsay had nothing to wear.

“My god, you’d think David Beckham lived here,” Olivia commented.

Lindsay wished that was so, instead of a sixteen year old girl who had a knack for screwing things up. She could practice until she was hollow, but she would never be as good as she needed to be. Lindsay didn’t respond to Olivia’s joke. She tried to think about how she used to- maybe a playful retort about how Beckham was actually her secret admirer and she was flying a jet to his house right now?- but humor hadn’t seemed appropriate for a while.

Olivia kept digging through the closet, sending Lindsay into panic. She didn’t realize, that she might see-

“Oh my God.”

Lindsay raced over to the closet. Maybe Olivia wasn’t reacting to that. She could have been shocked that there was actually a pink item of clothing wedged in between her sweatpants. Or that her first pair of cleats ever was still thrown somewhere in the depths of her wardrobe.

But no. It was exactly what Lindsay had feared. Olivia picked up three packages of Twinkies. Then two more of ho-hos. Ten bags of pretzels, five of which held nothing but crumbs.

All eaten in one sitting. All purged in one minute. And now her secret was out.

“Lindsay?” Olivia trembled, “What is this?”

Lindsay tried for one last approach, though she already knew Olivia wouldn’t buy it: “Uh, snacks for you guys?”

Lexi stepped forward. She had lingered by the door up until then, but during a crisis she knew how to come around. Lexi threw the bags to the floor and looked Lindsay straight in the eye for a solid minute. She inspected her for tears, rage, any sign of emotion. But Lindsay stood there with her expression blank. She didn’t move.

“Holy s*** girl,” Lexi whispered, “You need help.” Being Lexi’s former best friend, Lindsay had seen her look vulnerable and scared before, but this was different. This time, Lindsay could blame no one but herself.

“It’s not like that,” she sniffed.

Lexi examined the empty package of Twinkies like the held some kind of code that would answer everything. “Not like you’re throwing all this up? I know you have a fast metabolism and all, but this is kind of insane.”

“I’m sorry.” Lindsay didn’t know what else to say. The apology felt scripted, but it was better than standing there like the disappointment her friends now saw.

“Yeah, well. So are we.” Olivia looked over at Lexi when she spoke.

“What do we do? We’re not gonna tell on her are we?” Olivia knew and respected the friend-parent boundary. It was the only place she didn’t turn to spread gossip.

Panic swarmed Lindsay. She had worked so hard to assure her parents that she was progressing, she could not imagine the disappointment they’d face if they saw Lindsay slip backwards. She may have known she was a nuisance, but being a terror was so much more.

“Please don’t tell them,” Lindsay pleaded. Both girls knew exactly who “them” was.

“Welll...” Olivia was prepared to negotiate, but Lexi shut her up fast.

“We have to. This is some serious s***.” Lexi rubbed her temples and exhaled with all the weight of the world. “Don’t you want to get better?”

Lindsay didn’t want to get better, she wanted to be better. Having something wrong with you in the first place was the number one sign of weakness. Her parents didn’t strive to raise a weak daughter who had to work 24/7 just to not fall apart.

“You can’t tell them. Seriously. I’m working on it...I-this- was just a one time thing.” Lindsay heard her voice raise a few octaves, matching her hysteria. She choked back a shriek. Her entire body shook. This wasn’t a one time thing, she had broken that promise weeks ago, but what would happen when she’d be forced to rid the one thing that gave her comfort, that kept her sane? Her knees gave out underneath her, and she landed with a thud in front of Lexi. Tears were well past control by this point.

“Please. Please! Don’t tell them. I’ll do anything,” Lindsay sobbed. She could not deal even in the safe-haven of purging, but dealing without it would be hell. That would be admitting that she failed herself, her friends, her family.

“I’ll do anything,” she repeated, and collapsed on the floor.

*
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Olivia didn’t always like to give. She liked being smothered with compliments, jewelry, and other materialistic things. She had seen other girls behave this way at school, and since fitting in was the best method of survival, she didn’t see any reason to change her ways. She always had a secret she needed so badly to sequester from the rest of the world: the first one being that she actually had a heart, the second being she hadn’t been born selfless.

Olivia watched Lindsay throw herself side to side as she tinkered with the inky black earrings she got as a gift for her thirteenth birthday. The solid blue rock in the middle felt cool and smooth, just as it had the day Lindsay gave it to her.

“Better hold onto it; this will be the one time I give you anything girly.” Lindsay meant it as a mock-threat, but Olivia saw it as a promise that her friend would remain constant. She could count on her being the one who wasn’t afraid of a little trouble. The one whose gleam of adventure never left her face. She wouldn’t be bothered by things like ruffles or any outward appearance that got in the way. Being friends with Lindsay made Olivia want to face adventure head-on. She wanted to challenge it, flirt with it, and let anything terrifying excite her. When she crept down the stairs into the Herkins’ kitchen, though, she was anything but excited. The idea of losing her friend was no longer hypothetical. It was as real as Lindsay’s disease. When Olivia thought about being stuck in dangerous situations, she thought Lindsay trained her for it. She thought she could handle it. But seeing Lindsay wafting away and shrieking pitifully, Olivia knew she was wrong.

“M- Mrs. Herkins?” Olivia had to clear her throat twice to get any sound out. She pinched herself and hoped she’d wake up any second.

Lindsay’s mother was in the kitchen, chopping a tomato. She was so intent on the piece of fruit, like if she failed to cut it just the way Lindsay preferred, everything would go into mayhem. Trouble was, it already had. At the sound of Olivia’s voice, Mrs. Herkins jumped slightly and sent the knife souring across the counter.

“What’s wrong?”

Olivia trembled, but tried to keep calm. She couldn’t be the scardey-cat Lindsay and Lexi always called her. She had to take charge of a situation, and grasp it with a firm hold.

“It’s Lindsay, she’s-” Seeing a worried mother had to be the scariest thing in the world. Realizing that someone whose job was to know everything actually knew nothing was as comforting as getting your body pricked with swords. Olivia gulped and willed herself to get the rest of the sentence out.

“She collapsed. We don’t know what happened. We- I- I’m sorry.” It was her own fault she hadn’t caught something so horrific in her best friend. It had been staring her in the face for too long, and she chose to ignore it. She chose to let optimism blind her. But she hadn’t just seen danger, or become friends with danger. She became friends with death.

*
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Christina flew up the stairs as soon the word “collapsed” came out of Olivia’s mouth. The poor girl looked so terrified, her face was as sheer as a ghost’s. Christina’s motherly instincts told her to hold Olivia tight and try her to best to re-assure her. After all, she was as close to another daughter as a friend of Lindsay’s could get. Turning her attention to the healthy daughter would be exactly the distraction she could get from dealing with disaster. She had to force herself to be strong enough to assess the situation, to make the right call that would save the unhealthy daughter from the disease that engulfed her. It wasn’t Lindsay’s choice. It wasn’t her will. It was a monster that looked awfully identical to Lindsay. Christina made herself remember that every day. She recited it as she swept her foot over the last stair, and she repeated it when she flung open the door and wrestled the monster who fought every move she, Lexi, or Olivia made to help the girl who was caged inside.

All bones. All brittle, breaking bones. That was what had become of her. Christina bit her lip and suppressed the urge to scream, cry and hit something very hard. She had to keep calm. She prided herself in being able to tell the other mothers she was a master of emergencies. She had stayed sane during Lindsay’s collicky years, hadn’t she? A few deep breaths, and she could do the same. Even if there weren’t any books on how to deal with inviting the devil into your own home, Christina could do what Lindsay always talked about before a soccer game. She could “wing it.”

“Lexi, I need you to get a blanket around her. Olivia, hand me the phone.” No please, no thank you. There was no time for decorum. There might not be time to save her daughter’s life. Her face was carved like a statue’s. In the middle of Lindsay’s skeletal face was a set of dead eyes that were past carrying sadness, or fear. They only held vast emptiness. Christina shuddered and turned her gaze away from Lindsay’s lifeless expression. She took hold of the phone, and with one shaky finger, dialed 911. At the sound of the three beeps, Lindsay slowly lifted her head up. Every move she made was in slow motion, like she was watching the world instead of being in it. She looked at Christina, except her eyes were unfocused, and she seemed to be looking through her. The eerie dead eyes were still set cold, her pupils dialating so there was no color left. She lifted one limp hand, and tried to knock the phone out of Christina’s hand.

“I’m fine. Can’t you see I’m fine?” Lindsay tried to stand up, but her legs had no strength left. Even a scream took too much effort. It was more of a squeak, and one that made Lindsay cough up any blood that was left inside her. Christina screamed loud enough for the both of them, and held the phone up to her ear.

“Please come and get my daughter. She-just- as soon as possible. Please.”

Twenty nights. Twenty nights of thrashing around in a dreamless sleep. If you could even call it sleep. Mostly she spent the hours of the night counting calories and trying to make herself throw up. Impossible, with nurses there to babysit twenty four hours of the day. Lindsay tried to gather the energy to feel sorry for them. How dreadful it must be to treat sixteen year old girls like they were five. The nurses had the same trained optimism Lindsay had seen the first time. They acted like she had a fighting chance to leave. She knew better. If she had a chance, why was she back where she had started a few months ago?

There was a certain finality to this visit. The hope of a more normal life seemed distant, like it was part of a story that wasn’t her own. Her family and friends were props in a tale that people expected her to tell. But it was one giant lie. Her life was here, in a hospital bed where she could feel the fat collecting every minute of every day. A growing lump, taking up space. Her only productive moments were when she tore her teeth through the feeding tube the nurses inserted. There. Now she wouldn’t have to watch the fat pour into her. So what if she was starving? It was better than being some lard that just took up more un-deserved space. One more yank with her teeth, and she could get the whole feeding tube to fall to the floor. She gnawed at it with all her strength, but her jaw grew limp after the first try. No such luck, not today anyway. She had to fall in and out of sleep to get some strength back.

“Lindsay? Is this a bad time?” Dr. Farnsworth peeked her head into room 127 and stepped in cautiously. It was always a bad time. Lindsay was always crabby, always hungry, and never wanted to speak to someone whose “help” came at the price of 200 dollars a session.

“Mmmph.” A not so articulate method of getting people to leave you the f*** alone. Dr. Farnsworth, unfortunately, was not so easy to push away.

“I see. Well said. Care to elaborate on that?”

Had a psychiatrist just made a joke? Lindsay must have been hallucinating. It was the only explanation. People who told you to pop pills for a living could not be funny.

“No,” Lindsay answered sharply. She thrust her head against the pristine white pillow and looked at the TV. A show with an overly smiley family was playing. The chubby kid in overalls made a crack about his dad to the family dog. Everybody laughed. The dad sent his son to his room. Everybody gasped.

Lindsay wanted that bliss of knowing exactly when to laugh, or when to gasp. Here, she didn’t even know when to breathe. When to eat. When or why to live.

What did she actually have to live for? More time to spin out of control? More time to hate herself? The books that had landed on her shelf told her that anorexia didn’t contain much logic, that young girls fended off food whenever they felt out of focus, un-controlled. Lindsay didn’t feel that way. When she was heading in the direction where nothing made sense, everything made sense. She was able to make herself land in complete obscurity.

Which was a lot more comforting than regular scurity.

Farnsworth had this awful habit of sometimes reading Lindsay’s thoughts, and she never kept quiet about it.

“Why did you do this? You have so much to live for.”

“Not really.” Lindsay shrugged. It might have been true once. But seemingly overnight, the joy of having so much to live for turned into the stress of having too much responsibility, and in that came everyone’s expectations of how she was supposed to take it all on without struggle. No wonder actors got paid so much, because it was tiring.

Farnsworth stared at Lindsay for minutes. She had a strange way of peering into her soul and bringing everything up to the surface. Lindsay wondered if it was something taught you when you were studying to become a counselor: “soul-reaching 101.” It was definitely new-agey enough for a therapist’s liking.

“I..It’s just...I can’t handle it.” If life meant getting through each day minute by minute, Lindsay would rather not prolong that much longer.

“Says who?”

“Me. Everyone.”

“That’s quite a generalization, Lindsay.”

Lindsay didn’t have time for arguments. Arguments caused stress, and if there was one very clear lesson in this world that Lindsay could count on, it was that nobody invited stress into themselves. She nodded, which didn’t necessarily bind her to agreement, but it might get the doctor off her back. Lindsay closed and opened her eyes, but Farnsworth was still seated in that awfully stiff position on the wicker chair beside the bed.

“If you give up now, I’m guessing there will be a lot you’ll regret,” Farnsworth reasoned.

“That’s ridiculous. I won’t regret anything. I’ll be dead.” Lindsay grinned a slow, eerie smile, as she lifted her pointer finger up to her lips. She pressed the cold, purple skin up against her mouth. “Shhh.” It was their secret.

Dead. Lindsay loved the ring of it. It was cold, and hard, and sudden. Most of all, it was easy. She knew if she talked like this she’d be sent to the psych ward.

Crazy. Finally, a label. Something she could be.

Dead, crazy, crazy, dead. Either one worked. Both worked. Lindsay felt her pulse quicken from its usual death march. She was excited.

*
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When Lindsay was in fifth grade, she got an assignment to write her own definition of freedom. For an eleven year old, it was only possible to take the easy route and talk about things like later bed times and being able to eat all the candy in the world. But really, it was a trick assignment. Defining freedom was like putting love into words. You couldn’t dive into it, not past the fluttery heart and the sweaty palms.

Lindsay finally found a way to define both, five years later. Starving yourself was freedom and falling in love at the same time. Lindsay got a natural high from the lack of food. She was in control. She was stronger than everyone else. Her heart felt light; it soared further than she could imagine. She could finally choose her destiny.

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The nurse carted an IV in. Lindsay tore it out. Laughter in the hallways. Nurse gossip. Young people joy ate through the remnants of the dead and dying. Dr. Farnsworth came in, prescribed medications. Her voice pitch stayed the same. No hope. Someone stroked her head. Affection. But not the real kind of affection.

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Her foot itched. She told herself to scratch it. Felt herself lay still. Perfectly silent, except for the Thump. Thump. Thump. of her heart. Slower. Slower.

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“Shh, she’s sleeping.” Christina. Came to visit. Did she care? Lindsay laughed inside. No. She did not. Perfect people did not care about the less thans. The disappointments. The garbage. Lindsay was the stinkiest kind of garbage there was.

But she would be cleaned up. Fresh. New worm food for the new worms.

*
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Lindsay found freedom. Twice. First, when she jumped with Forrest. Light and free went her heart. She needed the freedom to fine her again. She pictured Forrest’s hand, squeezed tighter than any human force. Told him she loved him, and everyone else. Told him to give Lexi her soccer ball. Hugged and kissed everyone in her head.

And then, Lindsay jumped.


Alternate Ending:

“Shh, she’s sleeping.” Christina. Came to visit. Did she care? She was here, wasn’t she?

Several more pairs of footsteps shuffled into the room. Lindsay identified Lexi with the heavy thuds that came from a pair of cleats. There was the big away game that day, the one that Lexi and Lindsay dreamed and talked about for months. The “World Cup of our generation” they had coined it. Next came Olivia, with the bouncy, light steps that made their way right onto the sterile hospital sheets. A hot, wet cloth swept over Lindsay’s head. It felt like heaven.

“Mom?” Lindsay squinted one eye open. Christina was stroking Lindsay’s matted braids.

“Yes, sweetie. I’m here.” Christina shied away from the light so that Lindsay would not see her tear-stained eyes. The sniffling gave herself away though. On the other side of the bed, Olivia was clasping the cloth onto Lindsay’s head. Nurse Olivia. Lindsay made a mental note to tease her about that.

“Mommy?” Lindsay turned over on one side. It had been years since she called Christina that. She forgot how much she missed it.

“Hmmm?” Christina combed through a tangle in Lindsay’s hair and kissed the top of her scalp.

“Thank you.” For everything.

“Shhh. No need to talk. Just rest.” Rest. Lindsay had forgotten what it felt like. She needed to train herself to relax. Had she really let herself get that far? All in the hopes of impressing who exactly? They were probably far from impressed. Disgusted was more like it. Scared. She knew she was disgusted and scared for herself.

A set of combat boots set themselves on the tattered mat besides the door. Lindsay smiled to herself. Only one person would own such a muddy, unique set. And only one boyfriend wouldn’t be running in the opposite direction of fear.

“Is it Halloween or what, because you are a damn good skeleton who gave us all one real scare.” Forrest. Oh god. How had she not sent him sprinting to the bushes? He was unreal. If Lindsay ever got out of this hospitialized mess, she vowed never to lose him.

“Good one.” Lindsay reached over to stroke his arm. Forrest scrunched his face tight and looked away.

“Seriously, Linds. Every girl should know that dudes always go for the ones with some meat on their bones. We don’t want our babies looking like a walking skull.”

“Our babies, huh?” Lindsay smiled and pulled Forrest closer to her. He smelled like a hospital, but for a second, that was the best scent in the world.

“Yes. Your babies huh?” Christina gave Forrest a mock stern look.

“You know...way in the future.”

“Names?” Lindsay played along with joke.

“Little baby Alphonso and Rosemary.”

“Well that’s just setting up your kids for failure,” Lexi cut in, “Whatever you do Lindsay, do not let this guy name your children.”

“Noted.” Lindsay nodded. She cringed when the nurse came in with more pricks and needles, ready to take her vitals for the millionth time. But a part of her wanted to show off to the nurse that she hadn’t ripped out the feeding tube for 48 hours and counting. She wanted to show off that she felt good about it.

“Your vitals are progressing. If everything goes accordingly, we’ll be able to get you up to solid foods in the next day or so.”

“Oh! Did you hear that, hon? Solid food!” Christina hugged Lindsay tight, then went straight into mother-secretary mode. To the nurse, she instructed, “make sure to get her swiss cheese; she can never get enough of that stuff. Oh, and chocolate. Dark, not the cheap milk. And, oh well why am I doing all the talking?-Lindsay? Any requests?”

“Mom. Relax. I’m fine with whatever. They don’t really do special requests around here.” Lindsay looked up at the nurse.

“She’s right, but no worries, Mrs. Herkins. Our menu around here is sure to get Lindsay eating and rejuvinated. I’ll even sneak her in an extra pudding.”

At that moment, Lindsay felt joy about something that would bring her pleasure. About food. She wanted to eat it; she wasn’t scared by the food or the want.

The door creaked open a third time. The nurse scurried outside to see who was coming, and peaked in her head.

“Lindsay, you’re awfully popular today. You have another visitor waiting for you.” Lindsay had an oddly sinking feeling that she knew who it was.

There were no identifiable footsteps, but she guessed it was Richard before his face emerged. “Hi, honey,” he said, with zero emotion attached.

“Dad.” Lindsay had nothing eloquent to say, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Her throat clogged up after the first syllable. “I’m, s-s-so sorry. I-”

“I know.” He did know. His face carried no lies, no anger, only understanding. He freely let the tears flow down his face. He was not ashamed of these tears; he made no effort to hide them. A million little kisses hit Lindsay’s forehead, where the washcloth had been wiped away. The kisses felt ten times better than the hot water that seeped through her skin. It was a hundred times more replenishing.

“Please don’t scare us like that again.

“I won’t, Daddy. I promise.”

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It was a week later that Lindsay finally graduated to solid foods. A few setbacks and strikes of fear made the progress slower than the nurse had hoped, but she was proud of herself when she got there. Every bite didn’t hurt, instead, Lindsay relished it. She didn’t feel the fat morph into her body; all she noticed was the energy she was getting from it. After meal time was always the hardest, but Lindsay had visits from Forrest, who, on top of being a hopeless romantic, was a fantastic listener. He even managed to sneak in a few pastries from the local bakery a few doors down, where he scored a job. It was step one for Alphonso and Rosemary’s college fund, he’d said.

Farnsworth wasn’t so terrible to talk to either. She still had the look of judgement to her, but Lindsay just pretended she was just one of those grumpy old ladies who lost her teeth, and it made the meetings more bearable. It even cued a laugh or two. Real laughs, the kind that last five minutes and make your belly hurt.

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By week two, Lindsay’s regular meal schedule turned to comfort rather than painful anticipation. She gained ten pounds that fell in all the right places. She felt feminine, yet still light. She felt like she could dance, and skip, and laugh. She was allowed to play soccer for fifteen minutes a day, with heavy supervision. Lindsay avoided the privilege until she felt brave enough to call Lexi to the field. Since that night, the final game of the season, they hadn’t spent one second with just each other. But Lindsay had to grasp their friendship before it all slid away from her fingers.

The sun had a pinkish glow to it, the same sun that Farnsworth encouraged Lindsay to paint every so often. She always claimed she had a very artistic eye for things. Lindsay didn’t know if that was true, but she was happy someone noticed. She kicked the ball high towards the salmon colored sun and watched it soar back to Earth. As if on cue, Lexi came running towards the ball, and smacked it hard, a straight shot into the goal.

“Oh yeah. You still got it,” Lindsay said, and ran over to retrieve the ball.

“‘It’ never left me.”

“Oh right. Of course. You always ate like a good little girl.” Lindsay’s comment came off as light; the resentment was more of an afterthought. She was glad she could finally make fun of herself and still find some value. She ran through a few fancy turns and made a goal. Lexi didn’t block it on purpose, but it was an accomplishment all the same.

“Looks like two hot, talented chicks are gonna take over the soccer field this season,” Lexi joked, “Everybody watch out.”

“We don’t even need the everybody else. We’ll be a two woman show.”

“The Daring duo.”

“The sexy soccer stars.”

“Okay we’re starting to sound like the silly sisters. We’re now speaking fluently in alliteration.”

“Because we’re that cool.” Lindsay snorted. She did feel that cool, oddly. Cool enough to let go.

“Well...” Lexi got that look like she was about to share a great big slice of gossip. Her eyes widened, and she picked up a few pieces of grass. “I heard that Mira Chase got a nose job and can’t play anymore.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Man, we would be screwed this season...if we didn’t start training like a couple of soccer crazed fools.” Lindsay said it in her ghetto accent, which got Lexi howling. She loved being back at the state where she could act drunk off a friend’s happiness. Pure glee was the best thing to be intoxicated with.

“Hey Lindsay?” Lexi quit the fit of laughter with a halt and stood very still for a second.

“Yeah?”

“I missed you.” She had no idea, compared to how much she missed everyone else.

“And you know what else?” Lexi stared straight into her best friend’s blue-green eyes.

“You’re gonna kick my ass at soccer tonight?”

“I’m glad you’re back.”

Lindsay was too. Glad she was happy. And healthy. Glad she was ready to take on life.

Ending number three: The ambiguous ending

“Shh, she’s sleeping.” Christina. Came to visit. Did she care?

Lindsay feigned sleep and listened to the voices around her. Christina and Olivia took charge of the situation, ordering nurses to check Lindsay’s vitals every few minutes. Or maybe it was every few seconds. Time passed too slowly for Lindsay. She was decomposing in her bed. A hand clasped around hers. She jumped at the warmth of the touch. Her eyes flew open. Everyone was watching. She was on display.

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Richard visited next. He came late, smelling like important business meetings. He brought his important businessman briefcase with him, and set it on the table. He hadn’t used the thing in years. He grunted an apology about being late. He was scared. But he was here, with Lindsay. He stepped over and asked how she was doing. She said fine. She was scared, too. Not of her father, but of his fear. Richard excused himself to the bathroom, and set a plate of chocolate chip cookies next to the briefcase. Lindsay tensed up and tried to ignore the calorie count. In her head, she told Richard it was okay, she understood his rage better now.

*
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Lindsay had to re-teach herself how to live. Her first shaky walk through the hallway was an accomplishment. An everyday task for everyone else was her point of pride. She held the nurse’s hand the whole time, afraid to fall if she ever let go. When she got to Farnsworth’s office, she talked. Really talked, honestly about all the fear and anxieties she had. About weight gain. About her family being disappointed. She cringed and squirmed at the honesty, but she made herself look Farnsworth in the eye and keep talking. She talked about how the first two pounds made her want to run out of her body. How if she kept eating like this she’d keep gaining, and then what would she be worth?

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Every two steps towards progress met with one leap back. Every meal was a battle with calculations, desire matched with hatred. Lindsay was prisoner to her disgust for food. She needed to know if it was a life sentence, or just a minor felony.

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Thursday was cake day. Lindsay had seen the hospital cooks pour gallons of chocolate icing onto rounded molds of calories. Lindsay felt sick, nervous, and a tiny bit excited. Maybe for once, she would allow herself to eat dessert. If she didn’t, she’d be stuck going nowhere forever. At seven o’clock, the nurse knocked on the door. It sounded heavier than the other knocks.

“Come in.” Lindsay’s skin felt hot and prickly.

The nurse smiled, showing a gap in her teeth. She set the extra large chunk of cake onto the dresser, right beside the framed photo of Lindsay’s soccer team before their final game night.

“Enjoy!” The nurse left the room, leaving Lindsay with nothing to do but eat. She looked at the cake. It was taunting her. She picked up the fork. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. She made herself pick up a sliver of cake with her fork. Eat it. Just do it. Maybe you’ll even enjoy it.

The other side of her brain told her she’d get fat, and lazy, and stupid if she ate it. She shut up that side of her brain real fast and snatched the chocolate goo into her mouth. Mmmm. Pure fat sure is yummy.

One bite down, twenty-some to go.

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When Lindsay first graduated to solid foods, she always made sure to leave a little something on her plate. It was a symbol of her power, her symbol of control. That last bite made her feel like she had a choice in the matter. That night, with just one bite getting in the way of moving on, Lindsay did something she never believed herself capable of. She ate the symbol. It was extra gooey, extra delicious, extra scary.

One hour down, a million more to go.