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She was lying. She was trying to scare you. You’re not like those patients. You are full of life.

Clearly the occasional stray remark is getting through to Mike. I’ll have to be more diligent. No room for error here.

CHAPTER 26

WEEK TWO.

Mike goes through the routine. He is weighed backward. He drinks Ensure. Last Thursday—was it Thanksgiving? He barely noticed. No turkey for him, just more Ensure. He doesn’t get visitors because this place discourages it. That’s fine with Mike. The only people who would visit are the traitors who put him here.

He’s moved to another table with Allison and Cheryl, while Nina stays at the old table. They have to eat what are called partials. The Ensure was bad enough, but this is real food and more than five bites of it. It’s very tough for him. He puts a piece of toast in his mouth. It’s like they’re asking him to put his hand in a flame.

This is not my real life, Mike thinks while eating the toast. I am not really here.

You are running. Feel the cool air at the back of your throat. Nothing bothers you. Strong body, strong mind, infinitely strong.

Everything in its right place, Mike thinks.

Mike attends lectures on nutrition: “What the Body Needs, What the Body Wants.”

Mike knows he doesn’t have to pay attention. Amber knows way more than they do.

Darpana insults Mike’s intelligence with her lies. She says that of the ten million people in this country who have eating disorders, 10 percent are boys and men.

That’s one million guys, Mike thinks. Who is she kidding?

Just tell her that’s an interesting statistic.

Mike: “That’s an interesting statistic.”

Darpana: “Huh. Not the way I would describe it.”

Mike: “Right. It’s scary. Very scary.”

Darpana tells Mike why he has insomnia.

Darpana: “A Cro-Magnon man didn’t sleep much—he was always thinking about getting the next meal. His senses had to be at full alert, so he could smell food that was ripe, see a small animal trying to hide in the bushes.”

Can you imagine rummaging through the Dumpsters in Belle Heights, scavenging for food like a caveman? Don’t listen to this nonsense.

Mike stops listening. Darpana goes into a whole thing about food rituals, and cuts and bruises that don’t heal, and why eyes are sunken and lips are blue. Mike hears only the rhythm and cadence of her voice, the music t>

Darpana: “I know about your speech problems as a kid. I know about your parents splitting up. I know you quit the baseball team. These things help me see you, Mike.”

But she doesn’t see Mike. And she never will.

Darpana says other things, too—obscene things. I won’t repeat them now. I wish I didn’t have to hear them in the first place and I certainly don’t want to again.

One afternoon in group therapy, Richard asks everyone what they’d like to be when they grow up. It’s the usual boring stuff.

Allison: “I want to invent a cure for allergies so I can be a vet.”

Cheryclass="underline" “I’d like my own show on the Food Network.”

Then, unexpectedly, something interesting happens. Nina speaks up for the first time.

Nina: “I want to be a plant.” She has a soft voice, almost impossible to hear, a whisper of a voice. “I want to exist on nothing, taking nourishment from the air.”

Richard: “We’re talking about professions, Nina.”

Of course Richard feels a need to criticize Nina instead of praising her for joining in the discussion. But Mike finds what Nina said a little creepy.

She’s talking about death, he thinks.

No, she isn’t.

Death is here, he thinks, like it’s another person in the circle.

Does it never shut up, like the rest of them?

Mike thinks about Amber, how she said something about standing in the sun without casting a shadow, and moving so lightly she wouldn’t disturb a spiderweb—

Amber is more alive than anyone you know.

Nina doesn’t show up in the cafeteria that night. She stops coming to group therapy. Mike hears that she was caught throwing up and now she’s in a private room, hooked up to an IV. This doesn’t affect me one way or the other, but Mike takes it badly.

I have to work harder, then, to protect Mike from this place. Difficult and exhausting as it is, I do so willingly, of course. I don’t mean to brag, but where would Mike be without me?

CHAPTER 27

WEEK THREE.

There’s a new girl in group.

She’s enormous.

Clearly she has no self-control, and Mike is appalled at her lack of discipline. A couple of girls roll their eyes at each ofet p:pag="justify"ther. One of them starts to laugh and has to cover her mouth. But it’s not funny. This girl is their worst nightmare. Some have said they’d rather die than be fat. That’s a little extreme, but I understand.

Richard: “This is Miranda.”

Pretty name, Mike thinks, but it’s the only pretty thing about her.

Miranda: “I know what y’all are thinking. I’m the fattest an-orexic you’ve ever seen, right?”

First off—“y’all”? Is she Southern? What’s she doing here? Secondly, her attempt at humor is completely lame.

Miranda: “Okay, I’m not really anorexic. I’m a compulsive overeater. And I make jokes when I’m incredibly nervous. Which I am right now. As if you can’t tell.”

If she thinks it’s charming to make light about being disgusting, she’s sadly mistaken.

But Mike feels a little bad for her. It’s hard enough being here at all, but being a big girl like that—

She’s revolting. You should have nothing to do with her.

Richard seems to find Miranda fascinating. He gets her to talk about where she’s from (West Virginia) and about her family. I imagine they all look exactly like her, but to my surprise her mother was a beauty queen and her sister, Lydia, is one now.

Miranda: “When my mother was eight, she was Baby Miss America and there was a whole parade just for her. Lydia came in third for Miss Teen West Virginia. Which wasn’t good enough, of course. When my sister loses, I know she and my mom blame me. Like the judges got a look at me and decided to punish Lydia.”

She should just stay home, Mike thinks.

Locked in the cellar.

Cheryclass="underline" “So why do you go?”

Miranda: “My mom thinks it will inspire me to lose weight, seeing all those skinny girls parading around in bikinis.” She grins. “I guess it hasn’t worked, has it?”

Several girls can’t understand why Miranda doesn’t just throw up after eating.

Miranda: “Because I love feeling full. It’s the only way I can sleep.”

Girl who destroyed the pipes: “But throwing up is the best feeling in the world.”

Miranda: “Maybe that’s why my cat is always doing it. I don’t know why I bother to put food in her dish. I should just put it directly on the floor.”

A couple of girls smile at that. I don’t find Miranda anything but hideous.

Mike doesn’t talk much in group, but he says something every once in a while so he doesn’t call attention to himself for his silence.

Mike: “My cat throws up a lot, too.”

Miranda: “I thought I was the only one with a bulimic pet.>

As they leave group, Miranda looks at Mike and says, “You and I have something in common.”

Mike: “Because of our cats?”

Miranda: “We’re like the answer to the question ‘What’s wrong with this picture?’ I’m the fat girl among the skinny girls. And you’re a boy.”