Holding Me Back

Chapter 2

My heart is beating out of my chest now. I'm looking at Kyle now, both of our smiles have dropped off of our faces.

Why did I do this. Bad decision. Bad decision. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You can do this.

"Fake smile. What do you mean by that?" Kyle asks me and moves a little closer.

"What I mean is that I know a fake smile when I see one. And yours is fake fake fake," I reply coolly.

"Interesting-" Kyle begins but I interject.

"Oh, stop being innocent, what are you hiding," I fire back at him.

"My question to you is how are you able to recognize false smiles?" Kyle turns the question around to me.

I gape at him. How am I supposed to answer that? I decide it's only right to tell him the truth.

"Because I've been wearing one my whole entire life," I reply, words soft, but powerful all at the same time.

"Okay. And from what I'm guessing, life is a lot harder for you than what you make it look like."

"Can you stop questioning me? Are you an investigator or something?" I try turning the table.

"Okay, fine. I'm Kyle, and you are.....?"

"Christine. Now spill," I order, not getting off on the right foot right now.

"Woah, feisty, aren't ya? Why would I tell you my personal life if I just met you?" Kyle asks me, "Here's my number," and with that, he flicks a piece of paper at me and strides down the hall.

My mouth is wide open when he leaves. Well that plan failed. I suddenly feel as if I need to know more, as if I need to find out everything about him. That being part of the obsessive part of OCD. I rush to the library and get to a computer as quick as possible. I search up his name, Kyle Rivers. Multiple cites pop up on the screen, and I click the first one I see.

Kyle Rivers: Cross Country Champion Comes Home

I scroll through the page. Nothing good. Next website.

Kyle Rivers: An Excellent Comeback Story

There we go. There's got to be something good there. I read the article. Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing good. It's all about how he came back and fought hard and lead the team to a lacrosse championship. Nothing at all about what he fought are his past.

Every article is the same. All about how much of a "great comeback athlete" he is, but nothing on his previous life he lead. I close all the tabs, and get back to the cafeteria as soon as possible. When I get back, Riley is still giggling and laughing with her boyfriend, Bentley. I have nothing against Bentley, he's a really nice jock actually. It just doesn't seem fair that everything and everyone around me is so perfect. Except Kyle.

"Oh, hey Christine! Do you want some of my sandwich, I didn't see you eat. You hungry?" Bentley asks me.

I'm trapped. Physically trapped because I can't escape Bentley and his kindness right now. And mentally too. Trapped in my anorexic semi-depressed bubble.

"I'm okay, really," I plaster a smile onto my face and reply kindly to him.

"No, it's fine. You can have my sandwich. I've already eaten a sandwich, my mom packs me two. You must be hungry," Bentley says.

"No, Bentley, really it's okay," I push away the sandwich, and shoot Riley a glare that says help me NOW.

The startled look on Riley's face makes her realize that she needs to cut in. I don't want to eat, but I can't just yell at Bentley saying "I'M FRICKIN' ANOREXIC!!" I want to lash out at a lot of people sometimes, but you just can't do that.

"Bentley, it's okay. Christine, uh, ate a sandwich while she was gone for a little," Riley winks in my direction.

"Oh, okay." Bentley replies.

When the bell rings, I scurry along to my next class, Language Arts. My teacher, always has "inspiring" posters hung on the walls. The one that catches my eye today is pink and sparkly.

Perfection is found within.

I laugh and roll my eyes. Yea right, perfection is found within. Look at me on the outside, and then look at me on the inside. I'm the opposite. Perfect on the outside, tattered on the inside. The poster to the left looks like it was made of wood, but the quote on it makes it even more horrible.

Things will always get better. Just look up and believe.

That's something I told myself years ago when I fell down my misery pit. And I kept on falling, deeper and deeper, no matter how hard I tried to make things better. I purposely sit on the opposite side of the class from those two posters. After settling into my seat, I open up to my notes, when I hear a smooth voice behind me.

"Hello again."

I turn around and face Kyle. Great. I feel like it's necessary to roll my eyes right now, so I do. He's not wearing his fake smile anymore, it's more on the smirk side now.

"What do you possibly want with me?" I ask him, not caring if I'm coming off rude or standoffish.

"Nothing, just saying hi, can I have your number? I gave you mine," Kyle gets defensive and I sigh, scribble it down, and throw it back at him.

Something is up with Kyle, that much I already know, but what I don't know is what is going on with him. And it ain't gonna be easy to pry it out of him. When I get home, I rush up to my room to avoid contact with my mom. I don't really think my black painted walls help me out too much, but I don't really mind. It expresses my soul without me having to say it. My comforter is a dark navy blue, along with the spinning desk chair I have as well. Everything in my room is a dark color, and not a speck of pink or yellow is to be seen.

Where as at school I hide my depression under a phony face, in my room, there's no trying to hide it. The colors show it easily. Contrary to my sister's room, Nicole has a lavender room with no signs of depression.

"Christine! Can you come downstairs and do your homework?" My mom screams through the house.

She always tries to get me to be more social or she tries removing me from my bottomless hole of sadness, anorexia, and occasional OCD attacks. My mom never gives up on trying to change me, but it's no use, it never works. I grab my homework and backpack, and then trudge downstairs with it. After spreading it out on the kitchen table, I finish up my work.

"Christine, honey, Nicole and I baked cookies, do you want any?" My mom asks me sweetly.

You see? Always trying to get me to do things she knows I'd rather not do. And this just helps prove my point that Nicole is my mom's pity gift from God because I was her first mistake on the family road.

"No mom, I'm not hungry," I point out at her.

"You never are," My mom mutters a little too loudly, and when she realizes that I heard her, a hand flies to her mouth in disbelief.

I stare at my mom with the same face I gave Kyle when he asked me how I can recognize fake smiles. I don't say anything, I just give her a look. At first, my mom has no idea how to respond to me.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Christine..." My mom apologizes.

By now, her words are empty, they don't upset me. It takes a lot to put me lower than I already am. I tell her it's okay, and then gather my things. I bring it upstairs, I decide it might be better to finish it in my room. My mom doesn't question me, she lets me do it. I have swim team later, and none of my teammates know I'm depressed sometimes or that I'm anorexic. Seriously, being muscular is a BIG helping hand. Like always, swim practice helps me clear my mind for a little, even though we do vigorous sets.

By dinner time, my dad is home, and my mom is still trying to make it up to me. I've told her I'm not mad, but she won't listen. She never listens to me. I do eat dinner, I eat some chicken, a spoonful of peas, half a roll, and a glass of water. It's not much, but it satisfies me. My parents try to talk me into eating some cookies, but I deny. Even though I know that they care about me, they truly don't understand that I'd prefer not eating much.