128 calories. I got it back.
And no one stopped me. No one did, because I had fooled them. There was a smugness that grew inside me with every day I got away with it. I had a secret, and I had kept it from all of them.
And so eventually, somehow, I became my old self again. Not the yellow Blair. Of course not her. But a fragment of her. I didn’t go out with Cherry. I didn’t go out with anyone, because couldn’t they see? I was busy. I was so busy. Permanently inside my own head. It was crowded in there. Loud. Relentless. Nobody understood how busy it was. Only I did. Because when you are at war with your body, you need every ounce of determination you have. I was fighting a war they couldn’t see, but I could. I had to fight every cue, every instinct, every basic pull toward survival.
My body told me to eat. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. But I had to. I had to eat enough, but not too much. Enough to avoid questions. Enough to keep my clothes from falling off my body. But never too much. A perfect amount. It was hard work. It was damn hard work.
They never tell you how much work it is to starve yourself. They never tell you that part in all the stories you see online. They tell you how hard it is to get better, but we all ignore that anyway. They never tell you how hard it is to keep going. How hard it is to maintain control. It was all I could think about. Almost every thought in my mind became math. Complicated calculations of how much I needed to stay alive, and how little I needed to stay in control.
But… I did say almost, didn’t I? Because there was something else I was thinking about, too. And I wished I wasn’t. How pathetic was that?
I hadn’t heard from him in weeks. Weeks. I hadn’t seen him. I hadn’t spoken to him. And still, I thought of him. And just like everything else in my life, I was at war with my thoughts of him, too. I was angry. But I wasn’t. I missed him. But I knew I shouldn’t. I wanted to call him. But what would I even say? I replayed that night in my mind over and over again. He was a bad person. Or maybe he was a good person. Maybe he was both. Maybe he was neither. I thought I was a good person. Maybe I’m not. Maybe, just like Austin, I was both. Or maybe I wasn’t anything at all.
He just had to tell Holden that he loved me, didn’t he? I wonder if he knew Holden would tell me. If he knew those words would lodge themselves in my brain and refuse to leave. If he knew they would haunt me. Maybe if he had known, he wouldn’t have said them. But I think the reason I couldn’t stop thinking about his words was because I felt them, too. Everyone knew. Cherry knew. Holden knew. I knew. You knew. I was in love with Austin, too. Did he know?
I took a breath, finally looking through my own eyes again. I was lying on my bed, my arms straight at my sides, staring up at the white of my ceiling. I wondered how long I’d been gone inside my head. Hours. Maybe days. I glanced toward my window, unsurprised by the darkness cloaking the sky. It had been my day off, and what had I done? Nothing. Physically, anyway. I had spent the day fighting my war. Was I winning? Or was I losing?
Maybe… maybe I should have tried harder to be the Blair from two weeks ago. The Blair who was trying to be someone else. Henry. Cherry. Holden. Maybe if I had kept trying, I could havesucceeded. Oh well. Maybe, like Holden, this was the Blair I was destined to be. Fighting with my own mind just to allow myself to take part in the one activity that would, one day, surely kill me. If I let it.
I listened to my surroundings as I pushed myself off the bed. The house was quiet. I wasn’t sure if it was quieter than usual, but it felt hollow in a way I couldn’t ignore. I glanced at my phone, sighing in relief when there were no notifications waiting for me. I felt the emptiness in my stomach as I stood, and I smiled at the sensation. Each day I felt it, it reminded me of what I had accomplished. I had stayed in control. Despite everyone’s attempts. Despite their eyes and questions and concern.
Because I had fooled them all.
I didn’t bother slipping my feet into my slippers as I crossed my room. I was too busy already planning tomorrow. Already arranging my lies like pieces on a chessboard. I let myself rehearse them as I walked through the still house. I barely wondered where my family was. They were living their lives, whatever that looked like now. I didn’t need to be part of it to predict it.
My hand trailed along the wall as I descended the staircase, careful and quiet. I could wake up early tomorrow and make pancakes. When they asked why I wasn’t eating with them, I would say I already had. I pictured it easily. Effortlessly. I smiled again. They wouldn’t suspect a thing. I had underestimated myself. I was a great liar. A magician. Smoke, mirrors, misdirection. I had mastered it.
“Blair.” Holden’s voice snapped through my thoughts like a wire pulled too tight.
It wasn’t just that he said my name. It was how he said it. Soft. Careful. The kind of voice someone uses when they’re about to tell you something irreversible. Like stage four cancer. Like you’re already dying. My head turned toward the sound before my body could stop it. He was standing in the living room. My parents were behind him. Cherry sat frozen on the couch. And Austin was beside her. They were all staring at me, motionless, alert. Like birdwatchers tracking something rare and skittish. One wrong move, one wrong breath, and I would take flight. But I couldn’t. I didn’t move at all. I was paralyzed.
“Hey,” Cherry said gently, and my eyes snapped to her at once.
I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. My body went rigid, every nerve suddenly aware that it had a choice.
Fight.
Or flight.
“What are you doing here?” I asked Cherry, keeping my eyes locked on her. Of course, I was painfully aware of Austin sitting beside her, but I couldn’t let myself look at him. I couldn’t.
“Holden said it was important,” Cherry answered, her gaze shifting uneasily between Holden and me. “He said we all needed to talk about something.”
A flicker of relief sparked inside me. If she didn’t know, if they didn’t know, then I could still lie. I could still fight. I could still control this.
“About what?” I asked, still looking only at Cherry.
“Blair, it’s time to come clean,” Holden said, and I saw him take a step toward me. I moved away instantly. Holden flinched at my reaction, his mouth tightening, his eyes darkening with hurt.
“Why is he here?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t gesture toward Austin, but no one needed me to.
“Holden asked me to come,” Austin said quietly. Gently. And even though I wanted to look at him, I didn’t.
“Why?” I narrowed my eyes at Holden.
“He cares about you,” Holden said, his face filled with something that looked dangerously close to desperation. “He loves you. We all do. Which is why—”
“No,” I cut him off. “There’s nothing to talk about. You’re wrong.”
