The Days Of Kelsea's

(22) Kelsea - Tuesday 28th August, 10.35 p.m., Lucy's Room

(22) Kelsea - Tuesday 28th August, 10.35 p.m., Lucy's Room

Lucy is sick. But things aren't completely uneventful or sad. 

This morning, I woke up to hear Lucy fully throwing up in the bathroom next door and this time I didn't leave her by herself like I did all those nights ago. How long has this been going on? Has she been being sick repeatedly since that night? I asked her once and she said no, but I think she just doesn't want me to worry. I'm not going to ask her again, because I personally hate it when people keep asking questions that you don't want to answer and you're not going to answer. 

And anyway, this isn't the time to be calling people liars. 

So, this morning I went into the bathroom and it was six o'clock, and Lucy was puking her guts out, the poor thing. I held her hair back and rubbed her back, while mum was probably lying fast asleep. And after Lucy was done, and she crawled back into bed, I sat there with her and tried to work everything out. All I know is that I'm not going to give up helping her and I'm not going to be like mum. I'm going to care. 

So I changed while she slept and put a bowl next to her bed just in case. But actually, she didn't throw up for the rest of the day. I hope she's going to be okay. That's all. 

When she woke up, she looked so fragile and frail and pale that when I hugged her and smoothed her hair back I felt the need to be extra gentle and make sure I didn't break her or something.  

Lucy's so skinny. It's not like I'm fat, and because of that I think that she's thin. The fact is that she is really skinny. I think a lot of girls would be jealous but I've noticed that recently, she's been getting slimmer and slimmer. But she eats loads . . . I don't understand. 

Right now the world bulimia is flashing through my mind, but I won't believe it. Because that's not the case! I'm sure of it. 

This is just a strange sickness phase that she's going through. Of course it is. 

I did tomato soup - Heinz of course, from the can - and bread. Mum left the house at eight while Lucy was still asleep, without a word. I don't know where she could be going, or maybe I do. I did tip out all those bottles of alcohol down the sink and maybe she wanted some more. I've just been trying to not think about it. 

So at around half nine Lucy sat opposite me at the table with dark circles under her eyes, slowly dipping her bread into her soup. 

"Thanks, Kelsea." 

"For what? Making you soup?" I raised an eyebrow humouredly. 

"No," she said slowly. I noticed her arms were shaking - from the cold, maybe - so I gave her my dressing gown from the sofa.  

We can't have the heating on. Not while mum doesn't have a job and we can't afford anything - the fridge is bare except for half a carton of milk, a piece of cucumber and a tub of butter, and on the hall table are envelopes piled high about water and electricity and gas bills.  

I used to buy books and clothes with the money I earn at the coffee shop but now I'm going to have to go to the supermarket with it and stock up as much as possible.  

"Then why are you saying thank you?" I asked Lucy. 

She sighed and slowly took a sip of soup before putting her spoon down and looking suddenly very grey. "Just . . . For being nice and everything. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I said that Christianna Atticus wasn't nice because she is. I guess I just didn't like it when she made friends with all those boys and I was too shy, but she's still the same person."