Keep On Waiting

There she is, just walking down the hallway. She looks the same as she always does, well, as she always does this year. I am one of the few who remember her as she used to be, a year ago. And nobody else would see the tradgedy written in her face.

Tears choke up in my throat now when I see her. Her skin stretched taught over her cheekbones, and her eyes vacant and sunken in. Her life with us now is built on a base of coverups and lies.

"Where's your lunch, Samantha?"

"Oh, you know, I like to eat when I get home."

Or, "Don't you want anything besides water?"

"I ate a whole pizza at home before I came."

The vibrant girl I made friends with is now a small semblance to her past. Cake and ice cream replaced with iceberg salad and fruit. Laughter and smiles lost to fear of confrontation and quiet.

As she passes me in the hall, there are all the signs, screaming out to me, "HELP!" She is so focused on her contemplation of the ground she doesn't see me smile in greeting. And when I say "Sam!" she starts fearfully, shrinking into herself until she realizes her attacker was merely me.

We haven't been shopping together in months; it would only be a charade. She would buy nothing, pretending that the size 1's were too small, and not letting me see the reality of the 00's being too big. Her frail body is wrapped in yellowing skin, and her nails are a brittle cover for the cold blue skin underneath.

I got a scare last week in gym class, we did a unit on swimming. It was the first time in months that I had seen her body without layers of sweatpants and sweatshirts in the way. Her swimsuit hung limply off her bones, and she stood still; hugging herself close and chattering in the warm water. Sometimes I worry that if I touch her too hard she'll shatter.

Lacrosse started a couple weeks ago, it's conditioning time. That means lots of sprints, too many. Every practice I fear she'll simply give out. I almost wish they'd just freaking hospitalize her at this point. I can't handle seeing her in this state. What keeps me awake at night is that I am afraid she's going to... die.

We had to do something, her other 2 best friends and I. Immediately. But every time we tried to confront her, she slipped out of our grasp with more of her deceits.

She's supposedly seeing a specialized doctor once a week now, after we reported her to the school nurse, but I don't get many details from her. And I am not naive, I know half she tells me is a lie. She never mentions what she was diagnosed with, but we all know. It's scary, but there's nothing more we can do. We've done absolutely everything we can for her. And all that's left is the waiting. That's what my mom says to comfort me, "You just have to keep on waiting."

So there it is, my exposure of the truth. My best friend weighs 80 pounds, is 15 years old, and is anorexic.