"Are you ready, kid? For us to be on a bus until one in the morning?" Pressley shouts at eight in the morning.
"Aye-aye captain," I groggily reply, sitting up, getting immediately dizzy as I sit up.
"Wow, so much energy. Remember that we have to dance in four hours so buck up buttercup!" Pressley sarcastically squeals.
"Why do you have so much energy?" I grumble, putting the pillow over my head, laughing in the pillow.
"I don't know, but come on!" Pressley squeals again, dragging me out of bed.
I nearly fall like a limp noodle from the altitude change of sitting to standing, slamming myself against the wall so I don't pass out. I whine out in pain, falling back on the bed, spots making me dizzy.
"Lilly, are you okay? Talk to me," Pressley asks, leaning over me.
"Dizzy," I mutter, Pressley, retracting away from me.
"I'll get you some water. Lilly, you need to eat something for breakfast, okay? I don't want you passing out on stage," she mutters and I just lay there.
She helps me up and I drink some water. A little bit of energy runs through my body as I realize: water is power. Calorie-less power. I stumble to my suitcase and I grab some two-calorie gum.
"That's not food. It has less than five calories, Lilly," Pressley groans.
"I can't eat breakfast. I'm sorry, Pressley. I can't," I quietly say, ashamed of myself.
"You know what? Just eat something today, alright?" Pressley compromises, and I reluctantly agree.
I do have 300 calories today, so I can be a little more lenient. Maybe I'll have some breakfast. If you eat breakfast, you can't eat anything else, Lilliana. Anything more will cause you to become fat.
I need to eat something today or else I'm afraid Pressley will snitch. Should I eat breakfast or lunch or dinner? Lunch would be better today, I think. But Ms. Abby will be eating dinner with us, so I guess I'll eat dinner.
"I'll have dinner. That's when Ms. Abby is eating with us," I announce out loud as Pressley is getting changed.
"Ok. I'm proud of you," Pressley states through the bathroom door and I can hear the straightener run through her hair.
Proud of me. Sure, Mom's always proud of me when I win at competitions, but I don't remember the last time Mom has ever said they're proud of me outside of dance, even in my bulimia recovery. I kind of sit there in shock until she comes out, and I go in.
Today is fruit day. To be honest, I feel like this is one of the weaker themes, but I managed to make it work. From Forever 21, I put on a pink camisole with cherries on it and matching shorts, along with cherry gator clips.
I put on white Chuck Taylors from Rackroom Shoes, a white cropped denim jacket from Nordstrom, and some cherry earrings, and a white "pearl" necklace from Claire's. I switch out my phone case to a pink one with cherries dotted on them, and I braid my hair, keeping a couple of strands of hair in the front so the gator clips won't go to waste.
My hair is still falling out a little, but it doesn't look like I'm going bald anytime soon. I put on some pink makeup with a red lip tint that's very glossy. Very cherry-like. After I take my medicine, I walk out and for once, look at Pressley. She is banana-themed, wearing head-to-toe bananas.
"If you're only going to eat some dinner, please have this coconut water. It has a lot of electrolytes," Pressley begs, handing me a coconut water bottle worth 90 calories.
YOU ARE READING
Une Fleure Fanée
Fanfiction***MATURE WARNING*** "The hunger is good. You had too many calories already. You're already fat." "They'll love you even more when you're skinny. You'll be their perfect little angel when you're nice and pretty." "Lilly, I heard you puking up the c...
