Une Fleure Fanée

Week 5 Part 4 (Thursday)

     Brady doesn't carpool with us today. I don't think he wants to dance. Or maybe Brady's mom doesn't want him to dance. Either way, I hope he's okay. I sit in his spot in Mom's car, and for once, I wish I'm squished in the middle between Brady and GiaNina. GiaNina and her mom are both in the car with Mom and I.

     "Where's Trish and Brady?" GiaNina's mom asks all of us, like any of us know the answer.

     I don't answer, looking out the window to see nothing but cars and the blaring sun casting weird shadows around the car. My stomach is churning. I ate an apple for breakfast. A whole gala apple, which is 62 calories. I want to break down in the car, but that will give it away. The disgustingly sweet taste is lingering in my mouth painfully.

     That apple had so many calories, Lilliana. You're disgusting. I don't like making the voice mad. But I was feeling really lightheaded earlier and I needed to eat or else I would've passed out. But that's no excuse. I shouldn't have eaten.

     The studio still has that sad atmosphere among the building. The producers are trying to get a hold of Ms. Farrar, but she doesn't answer the phone. Brady isn't responding to any of our texts or calls. He's not even reading them.

     "Let's just get started and see if Tricia and Brady show up," Ms. Abby suggests, and we start warming up in Studio A to do King of Queens without the king. We're just the followers without the leader.

     Luckily, Brady shows up about half an hour later. He's masking all his sorrow and pain with an emotionless face. I think I'm the only one that notices. Ms. Abby doesn't yell at him for being late. Throughout the rehearsal, he seems out of it. He's still trying to process everything that happened yesterday, and what his future is going to be. Ms. Abby comments multiple times about my stomach and my feet. You're so fat and ugly, Lilliana.

     Sarah, Savannah, and I are kicked out so that the other kids can work on their solos. We want to watch so bad. We manage to cram our two hours of school in an hour, so we get to go up to the dancer's den to watch Brady practice his song solo.

     This ballet solo is like his farewell solo. Brady loves ballet, so maybe that's why Ms. Abby gave him this solo. You might as well give him what he likes on his last week. He's so graceful and technical, and it distracts us from whatever the moms are babbling about.

     I pick up bits and pieces, but they're basically saying that if any of the other children got sent home, they wouldn't get their "swan song." Stop obsessing over the "advantages" that a 14-year-old boy is supposedly receiving! The moms can be so annoying sometimes. But that means they're great reality television stars.

     We have lunch before two more hours of solo practice for Hannah and GiaNina. I haven't been dancing much today, so I've only burned 800 calories. But sitting still burns calories. Not enough. I only eat a bite of my salad. 11 calories. You're so lazy, Lilliana. I can't believe that you ate a bite of your salad.

     Going back to the dancer's den, my stomach aching from the lack of food in my stomach, Savannah, Sarah, and I watch GiaNina and Hannah practice their solos with Ms. Abby.

     GiaNina's solo is lyrical. It's her favorite style, and she's working really hard at it, being very technical about the dance. You can see the memories flashing through her head of her grandmother. She looks like she's about to burst into tears at any moment.

     Hannah's solo is jazz and to be honest, not as sassy and "sexy" as Hannah's mom made it out to be yesterday. It's all really in the face that makes it sassy. But maybe the costume will add to it. Apart from that, Hannah's solo looks really good. I hope that she does well. But GiaNina needs to do better, so maybe Hannah will hold back. I doubt it, but just maybe.

     Brady doesn't carpool with us back. I'm starting to get worried about him. But I don't want to intrude because it's not my place. All day, the voices are telling me, It's all your fault, Lilliana. You should've danced better so your Mom wouldn't have started complaining about the dancers getting less attention. It's constant, and when the voices are constant, it makes it hard to focus.

     I'm actually not hungry for dinner tonight. I'm too sad to eat, and Mom is seeming to get worried. So I start doing some researching and snooping around the place. She still has no clue about my anorexia. She thinks I have depression. I look up the symptoms, and I'm presenting a lot of them.

     Anxiety, general discontentment, agitation, excessive crying, loss of appetite, lack of concentration, slowness in activity, weight loss, thoughts of suicide, poor appetite, repeatedly going over thoughts. All symptoms of depression, and I have them. Some are more present than others, and Mom doesn't know about poor appetite or loss of appetite, weight loss, repeatedly going over thoughts, and the thoughts of sucide. I'm not gonna act upon the suicidal thoughts, but I can't help but think about it.

     Maybe getting diagnosed with depression will help me. Maybe I'll start eating again. But not eating brings me so much comfort and joy because I'm going to please the voices and Ms. Abby. I'm trapped in a tunnel of pain and discomfort, but euphoria is at the light of the tunnel. And I'll be there eventually.

     Beep. 74.7. I didn't drop a pound, only half a pound. I'm not losing weight fast enough. You fat bitch, Lilliana. I can't believe you were so careless today. And the fact that you ate an entire apple today, just disgusting. I'm going to compete in two days without a scale, which means that we're going to Scranton tomorrow. We're going to be away for three days this time, so I'm missing three days without a scale.

     I put away the scale and run to my bedroom. I have a panic attack. I'm scared that I'm going to gain weight. I try to take a breath or walk around my room but it's not working. My coping mechanisms aren't working anymore. I have to find another mechanism.

     I don't get to bed until one in the morning because of the panic attack. I'm so going to be sleeping on the bus. The night is filled with nightmares about being forced to eat and messing up on a dance and straightjackets.

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