Dearest~a Ryden

From Bad to Worse

Brendon turns the corner and I can't see him anymore.

As he leaves I think to myself- this is about to go from bad to worse.

"Okay," Mrs. Gunn says. "Did you already feel sick? As in before you got to school?"

I pause and think back to this morning. Maybe if I say yes she won't weigh me. But I'm a horrible liar, so she'll find out eventually.

I shake my head no.

"Hmm. Well there has to be a reason you passed out. Why don't I go get the scale? I mean the only other reason I can think of for passing out is that you're underweight. We should do this- just to be safe."

She walks into the room that has about three beds that people can lay on if they're really sick and waiting on their parents to pick them up. Only freshman and sophomores use them because they can't drive yet. I've had to use them once before-never again.

She walks out with the small scale and I feel myself start to sweat. This has always been one of my worst fears. Getting weighed in front of someone who was a health care person-thing.

"Ryan, you can step on it now." I'd rather not, thank you.

I eye the scale before stepping on it. I don't watch the number go up and up. After I hear a gasp from Gunn, that's when I look down. 79.8. Damn. No wonder I passed out. I guess this new cotton ball diet has been working pretty well.

"There's no easy way to say this Mr. Ross," She pauses because she doesn't want to say it. Anorexia. I know after she tells me that I'm anorexic, she's going to ask if I purge. Which yes, yes I do. "I-I'm afraid that... you are suffering from anorexia. Are you scared of gaining weight and see yourself differently in the mirror?"

There's absolutely no point in lying now.

I shake my head yes. I hang my head low, my eyes filling with salty tears of shame. One slides down my face, and drips off of my chin onto the tile floor.

"Do you purge? As in eating something, and then throwing it up on purpose?"

The tears start really coming now. One, two, and before you know it, I'll be drowning in my tears. I force myself to tell the truth because it's the best thing I can do in the situation. As much as I want to die I am not letting it be this way. Not because of my weight. I want to go out with a bang.

Not as in shooting myself, but you get the idea.

"Yes," My voice cracks as I say it, and I cringe.

I wipe away my tears and sniffle a little bit. God, I'm pathetic.

"What?" Mrs. Gunn asks. Oh shit. Did I say that out loud. "You're not pathetic, Ryan." I guess I did.

What is she going to do put me on fluoxetine? Sertraline? Send me to a "professional", a therapist?

"But I am. I just don't care anymore," I get up from the thing I'm sitting on, and hurry to the restroom. I feel sick.

There's a bathroom just outside of the office, so I go into one of those stalls hurriedly and reach for my pocket. There it is. My pencil.

I pull my notebook out of my other pocket.

I begin writing.

~~~~~

Brendon

~~~~~

Oh my god. Oh my god. It has to be him. Right? I mean, maybe if I just ask he'll tell me.

Maybe that's not the best approach. As I'm walking down the hall back to the classroom I stop in the bathroom right beside the gym.

I text my mom. I can trust her, she knows me better than anyone else.

hey, when could you come pick me up? we need to talk- well, I mean, I have some questions. they're really important.

I press send. Risky business asking her something like that. I know she wants me to do well in school, and have a good life. Be a lawyer or some shit.

My phone buzzes against my hand. She said okay with a question mark.

~~~~

In the car

~~~~~

"Is there something going on at school Bren?" Mom asks. She sounds concerned, which is understandable because I've never texted her to get me out of school before.

"Well, ya see, it's more complicated than that. This guy I like, Ryan, passed out today in gym." I explain. I pause and get my thoughts in order.

"Mmhm. Oh! And what does this Ryan look like? How cute is he?" She asks. I smile. I shouldn't have told her the part about me liking him. But I'm glad she's accepting.

"Oh mom. He's perfect. He has brown hair, and his eyes. Mom, his eyes are the prettiest thing. They're a honey-golden color," she laughs. "Okay, but back to this, it's pretty serious."

"Okay."

"Multiple days before today with the whole Ryan thing I received some letters. Letters from someone at school who self-harmed, purged, and was extremely underweight. Mom. Do you think it could be him? I hope it isn't. I'd hate to see him hurting."

"Hmm. It very well could be him. I mean the whole underweight thing and passing out. It's the perfect storm. But the whole self-harm thing. I honestly have no idea. It really depends if you get a chance to see whatever part of his body he did it to. Whether it be wrists or thighs, y'know?"

I think back to gym when Ryan was wearing that insane bracelet that covered up most of his wrist.

"It's him." Mom looks at me. "Mom, we have to do something. His dad hits him. It's him, Mom." I start to cry. I open the dashboard and grab a tissue. Shit.

I cry the rest of the way home, counting down the minutes until school lets out. On one hand I feel bad for leaving Ry at school alone. But on the other hand, I needed to think about this whole situation.

It is him.