Sydney
Another couple of months pass without any word from Jared. My sixteenth birthday comes and goes and nada. Not a peep from him. I’m forced to accept the truth. He is no longer mine. He lied to me. Forgot or chose to abandon the promises he made.
After that day when Anvil showed me the photo, my emotions veered all over the place. I spent days clinging to hope, reminding myself the Jared I knew was the real deal and believing there was some logical explanation. Our parents wanted to separate us. It’s not inconceivable to think they have done something. But we have burner cells our parents know nothing about, and our relationship is only a blip in the greater scheme of things. I can’t imagine they would go to this much trouble to break us up. So, I do a complete three-sixty, and my mind swings to the only other explanation.
Jared is avoiding me on purpose.
He has blocked me on social media, but my emails, texts, and calls don’t bounce back meaning he has received them but has chosen to ignore them.
It makes my blood boil.
Days when I let thoughts like that fester, I chastise myself for continuing to dream and focus on the facts. He has chosen not to reply to my many communications, which confirms he didn’t really care about me. Not in the way I care about him. When he said he loved me, he never meant it. Not if he can move on so quickly and so callously.
Dad is losing his patience with me. My schoolwork is suffering because I can’t concentrate for shit, and I’ve lost all interest in my classes and studies. My clothes hang off my much thinner frame, and my pasty skin and sunken eyes make me look like death warmed up. Even on days when I can force some food into my mouth, it doesn’t take long before I’m vomiting it back up. I’m not doing it purposely, but it’s like my body has lost the will to live, and it’s rejecting anything that lands in my stomach.
I don’t give a fuck about my appearance or the whispered words and finger-pointing that follow me around the hallways of West Lorian High. It’s hard to care when I feel so empty and lost. Hurt and anger are eating me from the inside out and I just want it to stop. I want to stop missing someone who clearly isn’t missing me. But how do you shut your emotions off? How do you switch from one emotion to another? How do you force yourself to feel something at times when you feel so numb inside?
The only thing I find comfort in is art, and I spend hours sketching and painting in my room now that Dad has canceled my private lessons with Jade. He told me he’ll re-enroll me when my grades improve. I wish it was incentive enough, because I miss Jade, but it doesn’t help. Nothing does. I’m drowning without Jared, and I hate myself for being so goddamned weak.
* * *
“Mutt is throwing a party Saturday night,” Cay says, unpeeling the wrapper from her protein bar as we sit across from one another in the cafeteria. “We should go.”
“No thanks,” I say, lifting the soup spoon to my lips. Gnawing hunger claws at my insides as I drink the tomato-and-basil-scented liquid. My stomach churns, and I place a hand over it, rubbing my sensitive tummy in the hopes it will settle it. I’m making an effort to eat because I’m physically ill, thanks to all the stress of recent months. No guy is worth developing an eating disorder over. But food tastes off, and nothing goes down easy.
“You can’t pine away forever. It’s time to get back out there. Jared isn’t moping around behind closed doors.”
“I’m aware,” I snap, not relishing the reminder. That photo is imprinted in my brain, and I suspect it will be for a lifetime.
“Don’t bite my head off. I’m just trying to help. You’re throwing your life away over a guy who doesn’t deserve it.” Cay leans across the table and lowers her voice. “Fuck Jared. He’s an asshole, and he doesn’t deserve you. You’re the best person I know, Sydney, and I’m worried about you. You’re wasting away, and you’re depressed.” Tears fill her eyes as she reaches across the table to take my hand. “Don’t let him do this to you. I’m begging you. Please.”
“I can’t help how I feel. If I could snap out of it, I would.”
“You should speak to a therapist,” she suggests, squeezing my hand. “Maybe you need to go on antidepressants.”
I shrug. “Dad won’t agree to anything until my GPA improves,” I say before swallowing another mouthful of soup. A grimace spreads across my mouth as it lands heavily in my stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Cay’s brow puckers.
“Taste that.” I slide the soup and spoon over the table to her. “Does it taste off to you?”
My bestie tastes the soup without hesitation. “Nope, it tastes good.”
“Really?” I rub a hand over my queasy stomach again, praying the few spoonsful I’ve managed to eat will stay down. “Everything tastes weird to me these days. I’m trying to eat, but even the smell of food nauseates me, and my stomach is super sensitive. I swear I’m not starving myself on purpose.” Those first few weeks after Jared left, I had zero appetite, and I didn’t even attempt to eat. But it’s not like that now. Now, I want to eat, but I can’t. I may have broken something irreparably inside me.
“Babe.” The panic underscoring Cay’s tone alarms me. Her face has turned deathly pale, and I jump to the obvious conclusion.
“You feel sick too? Told you there was something wrong with the soup.”
“I don’t feel sick.” She gets up and claims the seat right beside me. “How long has this been going on?” she whispers.
“What?” I ask, completely perplexed.
“Getting sick. Food tasting weird, smelling weird.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. A couple months? Maybe more? Why?”
“I don’t want to freak you out, but Juniper had those symptoms when she was expecting my niece. Could you be pregnant?”
