Chapter 5

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A/N: Next chapter is the last. It won't be a happy ending. But hey, that's the point of this non-linear timeline, right? It's not really the end.

Also, continued warning for discussion about eating disorders, etc.

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October 2011

The rumour reaches Lauren on lunch time, an entire 24 hours after everyone else.

Kelly is nowhere to be seen on this particular day. Apparently no one has spoken to her properly since the incident in the locker room several days ago, although Lauren has received her fair share of glares in the corridors. She has little reason to wonder, since Kelly had been kicked off the team, to be replaced by some slightly less temperamental and less talented girl. Lauren expected to be treated like a pariah for making the team lose its captain, but if anything both she and Normani had gained a kind of grudging acceptance for having the nerve to actually hit Kelly. It's a common desire among the Cheerios, it seems.

Currently, the other cheerleaders are crammed onto one table. Distributing the space onto more than one table is not even considered for some reason, thus those higher up in the pyramid actually have seats at the table while the other crowd sit around eagerly with their trays on their laps and legs jammed into the space between chairs so they can feel included. It's almost disturbing how deeply their artificial social hierarchy seeps into everything.

As for Lauren, while she does have a place at the table, it's at the bottom end. Not that she cares much. She'd much rather be anywhere else than this cafeteria, staring morosely at the food other people are shoving into their mouths all around the room.

She's hungry. Scratch that, actually, it feels as though her stomach is almost turning in on itself from the said hunger. Every whiff of food that her nose catches makes it growl even more. But Cole is cracking down hard on keeping the girls to their weight targets. As such, these meetings in the cafeteria are less about eating than a silent competition over who will break first, passive-aggressive attempts to make the others falter with the wafting smells of – mediocre, but still food in their direction.

Luckily, Lauren has a system: if she squints she can pretend the food in front of her is completely disgusting. Picturing mould covering the soft white bread and eating away at the cheese inside. Closing her eyes and imagining her salad floating in a pool of muddy, brown water instead of dressing. It seems to work. Just barely. At any rate, she feels nauseous.

Lauren drifts in and out of the conversations of the surrounding girls, catching fragments but mainly tuning the whole thing out so she can concentrate on keeping up her food imagery. She wishes she didn't have to come in here and sit with them, instead wanting to find Camila and disappear into the choir room together like they usually do.

For the past few days – well, since that night - however, she's made it her goal to ignore Camila. Ignoring her texts and notes, spinning on her heel and charging the other way up the corridor if they ever encounter each other and trying not to be bothered by Camila's wounded expression when she does these things. It hurts, far more than she ever expected it would to start cutting the girl out of her life. If anything that just shows her they've already become dangerously close.

Is it any wonder she started to dream about Camila every night?

A shiver runs down her spine involuntarily at the thought of them, still remembering light fingertips skimming her cheeks; kisses, the brush of lips against hers. Of the four she's had already, none have really been that sexual. But God, her body certainly reacts like they are.

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