Yes, you are.
Why can’t I eat the chicken?
Because you don’t want to. It’s disgusting.
I do want to. I mean, I’m willing to, but I can’t.
You’re in control.
But if I’m not, what is?
Mike overthinks, sometimes.
Again I have to work hard to calm Mike down, get him out of the restaurant and back on the bus, see to it that he goes for a run even before he goes home. Then he feels better. He’s not even hungry as he runs.
You can run over hunger.
He stumbles a bit, bangs up his knee. No blood. He runs some more.
Back home, he looks in the mirror and sees something he’s never seen before. There’s a thin, fuzzy patch of hair on his shoulders. A dusting of it on his stomach, too. It’s soft, like a blanket. Nice, Mike thinks.
Don’t see your dad anymore. It’s too disruptive.
Mike agrees. He knows what’s at stake here.
Don’t see anyone anymore. Except for Amber.
Mike agrees to that, too. Besides, he’s used to solitude. Before Tamio, he was alone all the time. Not that he’s alone now. After all, he has me.
Mike visits Amber again during the week. There’s a different nurse at the desk outside the Sun Room. She looks up at Mike as she tells him Amber’s at a group activity.
Nurse: “Do you want me to fetch her?”
Mike: “No, that’s okay.”
Nurse: “You sure? She doesn’t get many visitors.” Mike wonders if the nurse actually sounds concerned.
Don’t count on it.
Mike runs. He works out in his room. He is full of life. Everything is fantastic. Except for that time—
The knocking is intense.
Mom: “Mike! Mike! Open this door immediately!” She’s pounding so hard, she could break the door down.
Mike is on the floor. He gets up, staggers over to the door, and unlocks it.
Mom: “Why’d you lock the door?”
Hasn’t she ever heard of privacy?
Mom: “Why’d it take you so long to answer?”
Mike: “I didn’t hear you.”
Mom: “How could you not hear me? I was standing out there for God knows how long!”
Don’t believe it. She only just started.
Mike finds himself back on the floor.
Mom: “Oh, my God.” She’s freaking out.
Mike: “Give me a second.” He needs a moment to get his bearings.
Mom: “What if this happened while you were crossing the street?”
Mike: “Nothing happened.”
You were tired. No big deal. You took a nap.
Mike: “It’s no big deal. I took a nap.”
Mom: “Where—on the floor?”
Mike: “Stop asking me stuff.”
Mike tries to remember as his mom finally leaves him alone. He was going to do some push-ups. He can do 120 now. The floor p wဆrose up, Mike thinks; it was the weirdest thing.
It’s not so weird. You were sleepy.
I can’t really remember what happened, Mike thinks.
Because you fell asleep.
He can do 250 crunches now, too.
You are strong and getting stronger.
Mike knows he is. He can feel it. He looks in the mirror. He’s so close to looking the way he wants to look, feeling the way he wants to feel. Having everything all under control.
I can be fit, Mike thinks. I can be strong. Infinitely strong.
You’re almost there.
You and me both.
PART 3
STOP-MOTION
CHAPTER 23
MIKE WAKES UP AND HE KNOWS—HE JUST KNOWS—someone’s been in his room. A trickle of panic runs down the back of his neck. He looks under his bed and in his closet; he checks the window, which is still closed as it is every night—it’s too cold to leave it open. He can’t find any evidence of theft, so he heads downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water. But his mom is blocking the way.
Mom: “I have something to tell you.”
Mike: “Later.”
Mom: “Now. What I have to say, it’s not open for discussion. It’s happening whether you like it or not. I’m pretty sure you’re not going to like it.”
Mike: “What are you talking about?”
His mom is shaking. Why is she shaking? Mike wonders if it’s because he used her credit card to buy Amber a bracelet. No, wait, he hasn’t done that yet. Sometimes it’s hard for Mike to tell the difference between actually doing something and just thinking about doing it.
Mom: “You’re going to the hospital.”
Mike: “Yeah, I visit Amber.”
Mom: “You don’t get it. You’re the one going to the hospital. I’m having you admitted.”
Mike: [nothing]
Mom: “Do you understand?”
Stay calm. Take a deep breath.
Mike (breathing deeply): “I don’t need a hospital. I’m not sick.”
Mom: “You blacked out.”
Mike: “I took a nap!”
Mom: “Believe me, I’ve given this a lot of thought. In fact, it’s all I’ve been thinking about.”
So this is what she’s been up to behind your back.
Mom: “It wasn’t an easy decision, but it’s the right one. I found a facility out of Belle Heights. It’s not even in the city.”
She wants to throw you out, like you’re a piece of junk.
Mom: “I’ve done the research. It’s a very good place. I haven’t been, of course. You’re not allowed to go, beforehand. You can only go as a patient.”
That sounds suspicious.
Mom: “I packed you a bag.”
Mike sees it near the couch, a small duffel like the one his dad took.
Mike: “Unpack it.”
Mom: “I called an ambulance. It’s on its way.”
An ambulance; is she serious?
Mom: “The hospital suggested it. You might be too weak to walk.”
Mike: “I run miles every day! How can I be too weak to walk?”
Mom: “I’ve been in close touch with your father.”
She’s not even listening to you.
Mom: “He was so upset when he saw you. He couldn’t believe it—”
Mike: “Who cares?”
Mom: “Your physics teacher, Mr. Clayton, called me.”
Mike: “I’m getting an A in physics, like in all my classes. What’s the problem?”
Mom: “Mr. Clayton said there’s no doubt in his mind you have an eating disorder.”
Mike: “Is he a doctor, like Dr. Steiner, who said I was in excellent shape?”
Mom: “Tamio called me, too. More than once.”
Mike: [nothing]
Tamio, the betrayer.
Mom: “Your baseball coach sent me emails. He heard from one of the kids that you quit the team.”
Mike can’t believe this. Are they all part of it?
They are all traitors.
Mike: “Well, guess what? I’m not going.”
Mom: “It’s not up to you. You’re not eighteen. I’m the one admitting you, and you’ll stay admitted until the staff says you’re better.”
She’s not shaking anymore. She sounds strong. But she’s never been strong. Mike’s the one getting stronger, not her.
Mike: “How can you just pull me out of school in the middle of the year?”
Mom: “I spoke to your teachers. You can catch up on schoolwork over the winter break, if you’re out by then.”