Nicole x (Anorexic Girl)

On the last day of the school term Ms. Mill calls me over before the bell goes for lunch. She asks me how I am. I look at her and lie. Then she let me go to lunch. I sit there thinking about Ms. Mill and what she said and feel like crying. I watch Rhiannon finish her apple and get out a piece of cake. I don't feel like eating but I know should. Mom told me I have to and every day when I come home from school now she inspects my lunch and sees what I've eaten. So does Dad. Mum started crying one night and Dad's been pretty quiet lately too. I don't blame them; I would too if my daughter had anorexia.
"...You should eat, Danya. Did your mom say anything?"
"Yes,"
"So eat,"
"I'm not hungry."
She gives me a -I-so-don't-believe-you-stop-lying look. "Don't you think this is bad enough? How can you still not eat stuff after..." She looks at Aleshia, who looks back at me.
"Yeah, you can't not eat," She agrees.
"I feel sick. I'm not hungry. No one can make me eat, kay? So leave me alone and stop pestering me about my problems,"
"We're worried about you, that's all. It's hard having a best friend who's anorexic."
"You think it's hard for you? Try being me; the one with it. You guys look at me like it's my fault I have a eating disorder. I feel like crying half the time already. You don't need to make it worse by talking about it every other time. I'm fine but I'm not eating any lunch."
"Obviously you're not fine! You say you are and we shouldn't worry about it and not go on about it, but how are we supposed to do that? Do you know how many people die from anorexia? Do you know how close you are from dying? From going to hospital and fainting?"
"I'm not going to die," I say quietly.
"You will if you refuse to eat, like you are now. We will forcefeed you if we have to. It's not funny, kay?"
"No one's laughing." Aleshia says.
I sigh and open my school bag reluctantly. There's nothing I particulary want to eat from my lunch. I made my lunch last night and put two things in it; knowing that I wouldn't want any of it. Mom forgot to check my lunch so I got to get away with having that much.
"Why are you doing this to yourself, Nic?"
"Doing what?" I say, though I know the answer. It seems like I've put them in a permantly bad mood too. This my problem, I'll deal with it. As if I'n not having a hard enough time already.
I feel my eyes water and then I burst into tears. Aleisha and Rhiannon put their arms around me, telling me over and over again that they're sorry and they didn't mean to make it worse. That just makes me cry harder. The last four weeks have been pure agony. Going to school is even worse. Rhiannon's right; I nearly did go to hospital because I wasn't eating. I know you probably think I would've learnt from that and would've started eating again but I can't bring myself to do it. It's so hard for me and everyone knows because Ms. Mills told the class that I have anorexia and everyone started being really nice to me. I can't believe she told the class. I mean, I know she was only trying to help me and so I would'nt have a rough time but it's awful having my whole class know I've got anorexia.
I rub the tears away running down my cheeks. I've cried nearly every day since I had it.
"If you're really not hungry; we won't say anything about it. But when you geth home from school today, promise me you'll eat something. I think you're parents would want that too." Rhiannon says.
I don't promise, because I know I won't eat anything when I get home, but say I'm fine to avoid her question. She lets it go and I put my head in my hands.
After school I go home, Mum's sitting on the couch reading. She looks up when I come in and watches me get a drink of water. I can see her in the corner of my eye staring at my wrists.
"How are you, Nic?"
I don't answer. I'm upset, that's how I am. I go down to my bedroom and lock my door. I lie on my bed and look at my wrists myself. They look like they're going to snap off, literally. I feel my eyes watering again. I sob into my pillow and my pillow starts getting wet with all the tears. No one else in the whole school has anorexia. Some kids stare at me when I go somewhere; obviously some people in my class have told their friends. I don't get why; they should be in my shoes and think about if I would want anyone else to know. But they didn't think, they just told and now those poeple are probably telling their friends that that girl in room 8 with brown hair and blue eyes, the really is skinny one, is actually anorexic. And then it becomes a rumour and the whole school finds out my personal life. They just think it's gossip when really it's what I have to deal with.
Someone knocks in my door. I mumble something about me being busy but they come in anyway. It's Mum. She sits on the end of my bed and says, "Hey, don't worry, kay? Are people at school giving you a hard time? Because I can talk to Ms. Mills and ask her to do something about it. I don't see why you should sit there being critized when you've got a diesease,"
I sniff. "No, really, it's fine. I mean, it's not fine obviously, but people are being nice to me."
"Tell me if they are being mean to you, kay? Because I'm not having it. I'm going to talk to the teachers tomorrow after school anyway about it, so just tell me if there's anything else you want me to tell her. I know this is hard for you, Nic. But it will go away. Now, do you want some afternoon tea?"
I nod and we go into the kitchen. She makes me a smoothie and a fruit salad. My tummy makes feels completely empty and I feel like I'm going to be sick. The feeling I've had for the past four weeks. Mum watches me eat it, making sure I eat the whole thing and not just bin it when she leaves the room. I used to do that.
"And are Rhiannon and Aleisha looking after you? Standing up for you?" She presses, her arms folded across her chest.
"Yes, Mum. They're being great. Can we talk about something else?" I look at her, and she sees the ergency in my eyes. She nods and starts about what the plans are for the weekend.
I'm not really listening though, I just can't get the image of my wrists out of my mind. I look down at them again and see that they are literally just bones. There's no fat there at all. I say I need the bathroom and rush to my room. I close the door behind me and look at myself in the mirror. My legs are like sticks. I pull my top up a little bit and see the ribs sticking out completely. I'm still fat. Everyone thinks I'm skinny as I'm anorexic, but I think I'm still fat. I don't really see a scrawny girl staring back at me, I see a fat, plump girl there. I don't get it. I walk up to Mum and sit down on a barstool. She doesn't suspect that I went to my bedroom. If she did, she'd tell me that I'm deathly skinny and I can't even think the word 'fat'. But that doesn't stop me. I push my fruit salad away and tell Mum I'm going to my room. I spent most of my time here now. I don't feel much like seeing friends or talking to anyone. I just sit in my room, thinking and giving myself thinks to do to distract myself, but it never works because I always just end up thinking about anorexia anyway. I don't know when was the last time I laughed or smiled or enjoyed something.
I have to go to dinner because if I tell Mum and Dad I'm not hungry they won't believe me. So I sit down at the table and when Mum goes to take a call, and Dad goes to the bathroom, I grab my plate and bin it. Then I go back to my bedroom. I pushed the dinner near the bottom of the bin with the fork so Mum won't see it in there. I pull the duvet over my head and try to block out everything. Sometimes it actually works. I close my eyes really tightly and just force my mind to think about nothing, it works for me. I don't want to pull the duvet down or go into the lounge or go to school. But sometimes life isn't about you making choices; it's about facing what's going to happen whether you fight it or not. Like for me, I don't want to go to school because it will be just another day of everyone staring me, staring at my legs and wrists and whispering to their friends, but it doesn't matter if I want it to happen or not; it is, and I can't stop it. I have to go to school, put up with those selfish kids, and try not to get upset. Which is so much more harder than it sounds.
Once I told Mum that I'm never hungry for breakfast, so she doesn't tell me I have to eat anything. I am hungry, but I don't want to get even fatter than I already am. That's sometimes why I cry; because nothing makes sense at all. I'm fat but I'm anorexic. How does that work? That's why I always cry, because it's so fustrating and confusing that my brain just can't work anything out anymore. Not even my own problems.
I'm supposed to be saying my speech today. I stand at the front of the class and look at all the faces, ready to yell 'anorexic, anorexic, anorexic, anorexic' over and over again. Everyone's staring, waiting for me to start. Everyone else before me were so confident with their speech; me? Not so much.
"Um..." I say. I look down at my cue cards but they don't seem to help. The teacher nods at me encouragingly. I look at her and see her waiting to yell 'hurry up and do your speech, Nic. Everyone else did, why are you an exception?'
"Well," I try again, trying to blot out Ms. Mills and all the other kids. I must look like an idiot. I suddenly want to burst into tears. There's nothing stoping me except my mind saying 'run, Nic, run!' I do just that and run out of the classroom and down the concrete, out of sight from the classroom. I lean against another classroom wall around the corner from my own classroom and try to calm myself down. There was no way that I was going to say that speech in front of everyone. I close my eyes and put my hand on my forehead. I slump down so I'm sitting down and wish so hard that no one will come out and tell me to go back in. That the teacher doesn't tell me to try again. And I get worried that someone will come out and tell me to go back, that I run. I run across the quad, across the techdome, and out of the school. I carry on running up the street to my house. I grab the key from in the bush and shove it in the door, frantic that Ms. Mills is running after me, calling my name, though I know I'm just imagining it. No one's home. Mum and Dad are at work. I lock the door behind me and let myself catch my breath. Ms. Mills will probably call Mum and Dad tonight and tell them that I ran away from school. Then they'll be trying to get me to explain what happened and I won't feel like talking about it. They'll press and press and eventually I'll break and run to my room, crying.
I turn the TV on and sit down, hoping to distact myself. The phone doesn't ring and there's no one knocking at the door. Mum's not supposed to be home until four o'clock and it's only nine-thirty in the morning. I've got eight and a half hours before she gets home. Dad gets home at four-thirty. I leave the TV on and go on the computer and then go up to my bedroom and flop on my bed. Maybe I should go back to school? No, I can't. How embarrising would it be if I went back to my classroom and Ms. Mills asks where I've been? There's no way I can go back there.
Finally, Mum comes home. She looks at me and I can tell Ms. Mills had called her. She sits on the couch next to me. I put my fifth-magazine-that-day down.
"You ran away from school?" She asks quietly, looking at me closely.
I look at the ground. "Yes," I reply.
"Why? Ms. Mills said you had to give a speech and you just ran out of the classroom. You can't just do that, Nic. You can't just run away from things when you have to face them."
"I know...I know that. I just couldn't do it...and I didn't know what else to do; I couldn't stay there in front of everyone like that so I..."
"You ran. I get it's fustrating, Nic, I know this is hard on you, but when I saw that Ms. Mills was calling me, what was I supposed to think? I thought maybe you had collasped or fainting...or anything could have happened. I was worried about you and so was she. I said I'd talk to you about it,"
"I felt sick," I tell her, finally looking at her. She half laughes but her eyes are serious. I know she's either already told Dad about it, or she's going to tell him when he gets home.