by Joy Elbel
“So can I come over tonight, Ruby?” Zach asked as he fished his book out of his backpack. “Now that all of our tests are out of the way, I thought maybe we could watch a movie together.”
Watch a movie—yeah right. He probably only wanted to come over so he could break up with me in private. I couldn’t give him the opportunity. Just a few more days and I would look better—then he would want me again.
“Sorry, Zach,” I said while hastily burying my face in my book. “I have plans tonight.”
“You do?” he asked suspiciously. “What are you doing?”
Starving myself in an attempt to make you love me again. “Oh, just shopping with Shelly—nothing exciting.” That answer seemed to work for him. “Sounds like fun. I do want to spend a lot of time with you over Thanksgiving break though—not just on Sunday.”
Really? Was he one of those guys who dug ugly chicks—was this one of those “the worse I looked, the better he felt about himself” kind of deals? It would seriously explain why he asked me out in the first place. He was totally out of my league and I knew it. I’d always known it. I had one of those faces only a mother could love—but even she didn’t. She at least had the good sense to kill herself before I got too ugly.
Suddenly, I was confused. My mother didn’t commit suicide—she died giving birth to my sister. Didn’t she? For some reason, I didn’t seem to know which end was up anymore. Severe hunger must do that to you.
“Sure,” I muttered for lack of anything better to say. While I may have been nearly speechless, my stomach wasn’t. A hollow rumbling sounded from the depths.
With a tone of concern in his voice Zach asked, “Ruby, when was the last time you ate?” “What?” I answered distractedly. I heard every word he said but I thought maybe if I stalled he would forget about his question.
“You heard me! You’ve stopped eating again, haven’t you?” Saved by the bell. Mrs. West called for order so Zach turned around in his seat after shooting me a “this conversation is far from over” look.
I was hungry before he mentioned it, but now food was the only thing I could think about. Instead of taking notes, I doodled absentmindedly in my notebook. When I looked down at my paper, I saw that all I did was nothing but make crude drawings of food. An artist I wasn’t, but I still managed to draw a tasty looking hamburger. For real, I would kill for a good hamburger right about now. Geez, even one of the cafeteria burgers would suffice.
When class ended, I tried to dodge Zach but was unsuccessful. He cornered me at our lockers and demanded I answer his question. So I did.
“I was running late this morning so Shelly tossed me a banana on my way out.”
He seemed to be getting angrier by the second. “What did you eat for lunch?”
“I forgot my lunch money.”
“Why didn’t you say something? I would’ve given you money, you know.”
“I didn’t realize until I was in the cafeteria.” Why couldn’t he just let this go?
Zach put his arms around my waist. “I want you to promise me something.”
“Anything.” Why was he being so serious?
“Promise me you’ll eat dinner tonight—and I mean really eat. No excuses.” What was going on? Why was I so hungry and why was Zach practically begging me to eat? Did I miss something here?
“Yeah, Zach, I’ll eat dinner—I wouldn’t dream of missing it.” I felt like I hadn’t eaten in days, why wouldn’t I eat?
“You better, sweetie—tomorrow’s a big day, remember.” He kissed me on the cheek and released his grip on me. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I love you enough to starve myself to be with you. The smell of food hit me the second I swung open the massive oak doors to the mansion. It smelled so good that I wanted to…cry. I couldn’t eat any of it—I would gain another ten pounds overnight if I did. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a little. No, that was the plan last night too and then I ended up eating an entire plateful. There were perfectly good celery sticks and carrots in my bag. That was the only dinner my fat ass deserved.
But when I realized spaghetti and meatballs— with garlic bread—was what I smelled, my willpower went out the window. That was one of my favorite meals. If I ate a little, it would be enough to make me happy. Not that I actually deserved to be happy, of course. The first bite I took was of the bread. Just one bite of it—that was all I decided to allow myself.
Two pieces of garlic bread and a heaping pile of spaghetti later, my stomach felt better but the rest of me—not so much. I felt horrible. Like a gigantic piece of crap. If I couldn’t resist eating for even one day, how could I possibly lose weight by Sunday? There was only one way.
I excused myself from the table and retreated to the safety of the attic. Once inside, I planted myself in front of the toilet. Just one more time wouldn’t hurt. Sticking my finger down my throat, I did what I swore I would never do again. I repeated the ritual until every trace of food was gone from my stomach. Part of me felt better. Part of me hated myself for being weak and getting into this situation again.
Physically, I was a wreck. I sat down on the bathroom floor shaking and on the verge of tears. My heart was racing and I thought I might die right there in front of the toilet. No one would care anyway. I was too ugly and pathetic for anyone to even notice my absence. But if I could just get rid of those extra pounds, then someone might care, someone might notice. When I felt strong enough to stand, I went to the mini fridge for a can of diet soda to wash the taste of failure out of my mouth.
I sat down on the futon and began munching on a carrot. There was only one more day of school left before Thanksgiving break and it was only a half a day at that. If it weren’t for that stupid assembly Zach thought was so important, I would skip school altogether. Whatever. After tomorrow I would have lots of free time to exercise and get into shape for Sunday. And if that didn’t work, well, I didn’t know what I’d do. All I knew was I couldn’t go on living like this for long.
Just then my phone rang. When I saw it was Zach, I almost didn’t answer it. But I knew him well enough to know that if I didn’t, he would probably drive over to see me instead.
“Hello,” I said quietly. My throat hurt from my recent activities and the word was barely audible.
“Ruby? I can hardly hear you—we must have a bad connection.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “Bad connection.”
“I just called to make sure you’re okay. Did you eat dinner?”
“I did.” Why did he think I needed him to babysit me? I was fully in control of my life. Fully. In. Control.
“Good.” Awkward pause. “I can’t wait for that assembly. I have a good feeling about it.”
“Yeah,” I answered. Silence.
“Well, since I’m having trouble hearing you, I’ll let you go now.” “Goodbye.” I didn’t wait for him to answer me—I simply hit the button and ended the conversation. Why did he keep toying with me like that? If he was going to end our relationship, he needed to get on with it.
It was only seven but I was incredibly tired. After a feeble attempt at some sit ups, I gave up and went to bed. The downside? I wouldn’t be burning any calories. The upside? I wouldn’t be tempted to eat.
It was three o’clock when I woke up but it wasn’t a nightmare that interrupted my sleep. It was my stomach. I was so hungry it hurt. I wanted to just give in and go stuff my face until the pain went away. But if I did that, I would feel even worse in a different way. So I lay there in bed with tears rolling down my cheeks until my pillow was so wet I had to flip it over. It was worth it. My life would be perfect once that weight was gone.
Morning came but I didn’t feel refreshed in any sense of the word. After what happened yesterday, I decided to avoid mirrors at all costs. I straightened my hair blindly and used just a small one to apply my makeup. Not like makeup helped any. Even a gallon of concealer couldn’t hide the fat growing under my chin. I threw on another baggy outfit to hide myself and snuck
out before Shelly could tempt me with another banana.
I left for school early but Zach was already there waiting for me when I pulled in. Before I could even get out of the car, he yanked open the passenger side door and climbed inside.
“As soon as school’s over, we need to talk.” There was a grim look on his face that could only mean one thing. He was breaking up with me.
My heart sank into the pit of my empty stomach and lay there at the bottom like a brick. I was tempted to stick my finger down my throat to see if I could dislodge it and send it back where it belonged. Not like it would have done me any good, though. There it was—the moment I’d been dreading. He wasn’t even going to give me until Sunday. I was so disgusting he couldn’t wait to get rid of me.
“Fine.” The only thing left to do was face my fate, embrace it even. I was a complete and utter failure. I didn’t deserve Zach. Hell, I didn’t even deserve to live.
He seemed shocked by my answer, like he expected me to put up a fight. Honestly, there wasn’t an ounce of fight left in my oversized body. It was time to give up and I knew it.
“Good. I’ll just follow you home after school then.” I nodded and we both got out of my car. Since there was only a half a day of classes and an assembly to boot, homeroom was just a pit stop long enough for Mr. Raspatello to take attendance and then we were off to our first period classes. As I started down the hall toward World History, I felt a hand on my shoulder. A hand that must have belonged to an angel.
Aside from being incredibly hungry, I felt like the world was lifted from my shoulders. I felt free. When I turned around, I was face to face with Zach.
“Here,” he said holding out his other hand to me. “In case you forgot your lunch money again.” Looking more closely at his hand, I could see the tip of a crinkled up five dollar bill inside it.
“You’re the best boyfriend ever!” I hugged him and took the money from his hand. I was pretty sure I never forgot my lunch money before but it was sweet of him to think of me. I tucked the bill into my pocket and continued down the hall.
What was his deal anyway? Did he think buying me lunch would make up for dumping my fat ass? I wouldn’t eat lunch if he paid me to, which, technically, I guess he just did. Whatever. If I couldn’t have him, I certainly didn’t want his money either.
What should have been a short day felt like endless agony. I was tired, starving, necessarily in that order. When and heartbroken—not it came time for the
assembly, I took a seat at the back of the auditorium in the shadows, where no one could see me. Well, almost no one. I watched as Zach paced up and down the center aisle looking for me. Just when I thought he was about to give up and sit down, he stopped at Mr. Raspatello’s side. After a few quick words, Mr. Raspatello nodded his head and pointed straight at me. Dammit. Did that guy watch me everywhere I went?
Zach made his way to the back of the auditorium and sat in the empty seat next to me. “There you are. Were you trying to hide from me?”
Hide? Where could I hide? It’s not like there was an elephant in the auditorium I could duck behind. I was the elephant.
“Why would I want to hide from you?” I shot back sarcastically. He didn’t say a word—he just sat there looking at me funny. It was the kind of look you give a stranger, one who looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t figure out where you knew them from. Was he trying to see the old thin me—the one he used to love?
The loud buzz of chatter in the room quieted to a mere whisper as Mr. Lascher took the stage. “Good afternoon, everyone,” he began as the feedback from the microphone squealed loudly through the room. Someone from the AV department ran out onto the stage to adjust the settings and disappeared again behind the curtain.
“Good afternoon,” he repeated this time without the unearthly squeal. “I know you’re all ready to enjoy your Thanksgiving break but we have a special guest here today to talk to us about an important subject—teen suicide. So let’s all give our undivided attention and a round of applause to welcome Mr. Jonathan Hartley.”
The echo of weak, half-hearted clapping rang through the auditorium as the principal handed the mike to a thin man with hair that was pure white. Zach leaned forward in his seat as the man began to speak. Why was he so excited for this lame assembly anyway? He looked more like a hardcore Red Ravens fan on the sidelines on a Friday night. Three cheers for teen suicide? Zach was impossible to understand.
“My name is Jonathan Hartley and my daughter’s name was Garnet. She would be almost forty years old today, probably married and giving me grandchildren by now. Except for the fact that she chose to take her own life here in this very school over twenty years ago. I can’t tell you why she did it—but I can tell you about her life and how her death affected me.”
“I need to use the restroom.” I didn’t really, but I just couldn’t sit there and listen to that man go on about his pathetic daughter. No one cared about that loser twenty years ago, why should I care about her now? I stood up to go, just dodging Zach’s hand as he reached out to stop me.
“Wait, Ruby! What if he talks about the suicide note while you’re gone! I’ll pay attention as close as I can but you may find significance in something I won’t—you could miss something crucial!”
“Like what? Blah, blah, blah, I’m so sad. Blah, blah, blah, nobody loves me. As far as I’m concerned, she’s better off dead.” I stormed out of the auditorium before he could answer me.
The closest restroom was just around the corner but I walked past the door without a second glance. I didn’t want to share the restroom with anyone else so I headed for the opposite end of the hall. I almost went into the one by the cafeteria but changed my mind at the last second. The one just outside the locker room was sure to be deserted. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I hesitated at the door to the girl’s locker room. It was the last place anyone would think to look for me so I opened the door and slipped inside.
I wandered into Coach Hunter’s office, sat down in her chair and picked up a pen. My life was over—I knew that now. I was ready to face it. As soon as school let out, Zach would follow me to Rosewood for the big breakup scene. He would read me the standard script. “It’s not you, it’s me. I think we should start seeing other people. We’re just too young to be so serious.”
He would never tell me the truth—he was far too nice for that. I knew why he was doing it, though—it was because I was fat. He would probably start dating some thin, pretty girl and go on as if I never even existed. But what about me? The only time I felt real was when I was with him. After he was gone, would I literally cease to be? If it could only be so simple. If I could only just fade into my surroundings and become invisible it would be a dream come true.
No, I would have to keep walking these halls being the butt of everyone else’s jokes. They would point at me and laugh at my misery. They would whisper about me, thinking I wouldn’t hear them. But I would hear every word, every insult. “He broke up with her because he was afraid she might eat him. He dumped her because she kept eating his lunch. What did he ever see in her in the first place?”
But there was one other way. One way to escape it all, one way to end the torture. I looked around the small room until I found what I needed—a thick, orange extension cord. Sure, a piece of rope would have been classier but did I really deserve classy? No, my fat ass didn’t. When I was done writing, I tore the top sheet from Coach Hunter’s notepad and tucked it into the pocket of my hoodie. I tossed the cord onto the chair and wheeled it into the shower area.
There it was—the final piece of the puzzle. An old metal towel hook protruding from the wall at just the right height. I positioned the chair directly beneath it and sat down. Looping the cord around deftly, I fashioned it into a hangman’s knot and tried it on for size. Just perfect. The only thing perfect about my life. Slipping it back off of my neck, I climbed onto the chair to tie it to the hook.
The gentle slope of the shower floor caused the cha
ir to dance back and forth as I tied the cord around the hook. It was sturdy—enough to hold even my massive weight. Once everything was in place, I slid the makeshift noose over my head and closed my eyes.
“Goodbye,” I whispered.
38. It’s Never Too Late…Is It?
As soon as Ruby left the auditorium, I got a bad feeling. It was the same feeling I got that day at Rosewood the night of the tornado. The feeling that I never should have left her alone, that I should have stayed close to her regardless of what else was going on. But I ignored it. I had to, didn’t I? If I ran after her, I would miss my chance to find out was in Garnet’s suicide note.
I convinced myself that she was fine, that she really did just need to use the restroom and would be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, I paid close attention to the man on the stage.
“Garnet’s mother suffered from undiagnosed postpartum depression and killed herself when Garnet was just a baby. It wasn’t easy raising a daughter alone. I was never the talkative kind and Garnet was the same. So instead of telling her how proud I was of her and how much I loved her, I gave her food as a reward. A good report card earned her a chocolate cake. Cleaning up around the house got her pizza for dinner. By the time she was a teenager, my daughter was seriously overweight. I didn’t know how to fix what I’d broken but unfortunately, she found a way.”
Suddenly, it was all making sense. Garnet wasn’t sick—she had an eating disorder. And now Ruby did, too. Just thinking about it scared the hell out of me. We were facing something serious—something life threatening. If we didn’t find a way to get rid of Garnet today, Ruby could die. I couldn’t let that happen! I would have to tell her parents what was going on even if it meant she never wanted to speak to me again. Her dad was a doctor—he trusted me to take care of her. I let her down before but I couldn’t do it again. If I told him what was going on, he would find a way to save her.
