WARNING:
If you suffer from anorexia, bulimia or self harm, read at your own risk. Content may be triggering.
Nikki's POV
I got up, stretched, and groaned. I did
not want to go to school today. Bed would be so much easier. Warm, inviting, comfortable....
"Nikki!" My mother yelled. "Breakfast!"
"Jesus," I muttered. "Its like I'm a dog." But none the less, I dutifully trooped upstairs for breakfast.
As soon as I got into the kitchen, I was assaulted by the smell of pancakes and bacon. "This looks delicious mom!" I said, smothering them with butter and syrup. Totally worth the calories. "Whats the occasion?"
"Just celebrating Friday, dear," she beamed. "I know how much you love pancakes." I grinned and promptly cleared my plate.
Looking in the mirror, I decided that I'd wear straight-legged jeans instead instead of skinnies. Tight jeans were never a good idea after pancakes. Throwing on my favorite hoodie, dark wash jeans and a cute knit headband, I was ready. Unfortunately, I was sans car, and had to ride the bus. Luckily, I found two unoccupied seats. Oddly,
I wasn't feeling very social. I kind of just wanted to listen to some p!atd and zone out. As a few people passed, I noticed that they all kind of stared at my thighs and stomach and smirked. Weird. Are my jeans ripped and/or stained?
Looking down, I realized why. But it wasn't the jeans. It was in the jeans. Namely, my thunder thighs. God, how gross was I? Scoffing down a plateful of pancakes, butter, syrup and bacon. Revolting.
I shook myself. God, what is with you? Don't you pride yourself on not worrying about your weight? Can't see why though. I added snidely to myself. Whatever.
Classes dragged, as is the norm on Fridays. But it was finally time for lunch. I bounced out of math, and went to my best friend Kristen's locker.
"Hey, ready for lunch?" I asked cheerily. "'Cause I'm starving."
"Yeah," she said, after a pause. "Same."
"You okay?" I asked, furrowing my brows. Kristen was normally a happy, cheery, social butterfly. It was why we originally bonded. We both loved people. Yeah, you bonded. When you were THIN. I mentally slapped myself. Insecurities were never attractive.
"Yeah," she said. "Just tired." She half smiled and we walked to lunch.
"I'll grab a table and get food after," she said.
"Are you sure? I can get something for you if you want," I offered.
"That would be great!" She brightened. "I'll have a turkey wrap and a chocolate shake."
"Be right back," I grinned, happy to see her coning out of her funk.
"Cool," she beamed. "I'll text the others."
After grabbing Kristen's wrap and shake, I grabbed myself pizza and a coke. I need a pick-me-up and if Kristen, who was ramen noodle thin, could have a chocolate shake, I could have pizza. After dodging several people, I looked up. What I saw made my jaw drop. Kristen moved my bag to the floor so Brianna, the new cheerleading captain could sit. Bitch. I walked over, and practically threw down her lunch, effectively spilling her chocolate malt. As I turned on my heel and left I heard gaffing. "Fatty." "Sore loser" "Cow" and "fat pig".
I scanned the cafeteria. I saw one open seat at a table where a girl sat alone.
I made the walk of shame over and shyly asked "Do you mind if I, um, sit with you?" This was so unlike me. I was usually smooth, confidant and relaxed. Asking to sit, especially if someone was alone was no biggie for me. But this was not an ordinary case. The girl who I'd earlier deemed as a loser for sitting alone was the exact opposite: she had long hair the color of coffee beans down to her minuscule waist, clear, creamy, pale skin, defined berry lips and eyes the color of a stormy ocean. She also had the smallest frame I'd ever seen, but was still at least three inches taller than me. She sat like a queen. It seemed she choose to be alone, like she was an angel, to good for the rest of us.
"Sure," she said, her voice as smooth and sweet as honey. I nervously sank into my seat. Leaning forward she whispered amusedly "I saw what you did to Kristen. What a bitch." I finally cracked a smile.
"Yeah. She is," I agreed.
"You don't need her. I know we're gonna be best friends already." That was probably the best thing I'd heard all day. There was nothing I wanted more than to be friends with the angel.
"By the way, whats your name?" I asked.
"Ana," she replied. "Whats yours?"
"Nikki. Nicole. But call me Nikki."
"Cute," she said, checking her perfectly manicured nails. "Put down your pizza."
"Why?" I asked confused. Despite Ana, this day was still pretty bad. Pizza definitely helped.
"You don't need it." "Besides, you're not a dog, don't reward yourself with food," she scoffed, raising a perfectly arched brow. She pointed to my cup. "Is this diet?"
"No," I responded, guiltily averting my eyes.
"C'mon." She daintily picked up my tray and threw it in the trash. "Buy a diet coke," she commanded.
"Those are gross," I wrinkled my nose disdainfully. She arched a brow as if to say 'So are you.' So I obliged.
We sat down.
"Thats better," she said triumphantly. At that moment, I decided I liked Ana. She was honest. She was attentive. She helped me. And she was perfect.
