Prologue

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     Being on Ms. Abby's team at seven years old isn't easy. Not when you are expected to do almost as good as Maddie Ziegler or Kalani Hilliker when you are much less experienced than them. It isn't easy learning dances in a week. And it especially isn't simple, learning a solo in a day. Today is the day I first vomited on purpose.

     It's when I'm learning my first solo called Step By Step. I have to perform it in a competition the next day, so the pressure is high. And Ms. Abby isn't handling it well.

     "Sickled feet! Lilly, you're doing the steps wrong! And your stomach is pouching. Do some ab exercises, goodness sake!" Ms. Abby yells at me.

     I don't know what stomach pouching means, but Mommy comes from the viewing area and starts yelling at Ms. Abby about fat-shaming. Ms. Abby said I'm fat.

     That strikes me like a knife that someone stabbed into me. I thought I was skinny. Maybe not. As Mommy's going at it with Ms. Abby, I blank out their conversation as I begin to look at myself in the mirror. I am not as skinny as I thought. My old ballet school teachers had said stuff like this but I thought it would stop when I got here.

     After looking at my stomach in the mirror for about thirty seconds, Mommy sees me and rushes over to me, scowling at Ms. Abby. She brings me to the other room. I can see the other moms staring at me and Mommy, talking about me with the words "Poor Lilly," and "Why would Abby say that to a mini?" I'm sad, angry, but mostly confused.

     Mommy makes me sit down on the bench and squats down to my level. She shakes my shoulders lightly. The cameras follow me, but Mom closes the door so they can only manage to get the audio.

     "Lilly, I need you to listen to me. You are beautiful, okay? You are not fat. Ms. Abby's a psycho. You're beautiful Lilliana," Mom tells me.

     I'm too young to understand why Ms. Abby called me fat and I'm too scared to ask. All I know is that I am not up to Ms. Abby's standard. Mommy hugs me. I want to believe Mommy's words. God, I want to believe them so bad. But I don't. Ms. Abby never lies.

     I have an hour of school tutoring at the studio. I walk into the bathroom to wash my hands and suddenly hear someone else retching and crying. It's Brynn. She's throwing up in the toilet. I stand there, frozen in place. I hear the toilet flush and Brynn cough loudly. She's sick.

     She freezes when she sees me. I bite my lip as my eyes widen, and start to make a break for the door to tell Ms. Abby. I suddenly feel a hand stop me. Terrified, I turn around. I feel lips come close to my ear.

     "Don't tell. It makes me skinny. Don't tell a soul," Brynn whispers in my ear.

     I nod quickly, terror seeping into my eyes as she leaves the bathroom. I want to tell somebody, but some magical word strikes my ears.

     Skinny. That's what I want. I crave. I require it. I don't hesitate. I'm seven years old and I don't really understand the consequences of my actions, nor do I care at this point. So I go into the stall and try a lot of things. Hitting my stomach doesn't work. Pushing my stomach up doesn't work.

     Finally, I have the idea of hitting my gag reflex. One time, a utensil hit my gag reflex and I almost puked. I feel my throat burn as my breakfast and lunch come up. It's horrible but feels oh so right. An urge courses through my body, like a physical tingle. The urge tells me that what I'm doing is good.

     On the one hand, I am happy. I have pleased this new urge and Ms. Abby. But I feel scared. Is this going to hurt me? Is this dangerous? I know I have to hide this. Or I'll get in some serious trouble.

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