• Highest Ranking #1 in Bulimia •
•Highest Ranking #1 in Free Mental Illness •
He's a quarterback struggling with a secret eating disorder that's destroying his life.
She's a food-fanatic who loves every curve in her beautiful body.
When their scho...
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"Come on Will! Put your head in the god-damn game!" Coach Wallace say's shaking his head. He blows his whistle a few times, letting everyone know; practice is over.
I roll up from the turf, taking off my helmet so I can breathe. The air is starting to get chilly, really indicating that fall is in its midst, leaves crisping and turning into colorful reminders- that sometimes dead things can be really beautiful.
I spit into the turf a few times, running a hand through my sweaty hair.
I go to follow Andrew into the lockerrooms, but instead, I see Mr.Wallace point his meaty finger in my direction. "You. Office. Now."
I hesitantly follow, blinking rapidly. I've been getting these dizzy spasms so often, it's almost like they're a normal thing. The world spin's a little, and things zoom in and out weirdly- my depth perception is on drugs or something.
We get into his office, and Immediately I notice the bright trophies Mr.Wallace is standing next too. At least a dozen, all perfectly polished. (It's a rumor that Mr.Wallace shines the trophies once a day after practice, honestly could be true.)
Mr.Wallace is a big African American dude. Was an insane linebacker back in the day, until an injury in college ended his career. He slumps into his chair and then stares at me. His gaze is so strong it almost burns into my skin, so I look away. Not a good thing.
"How is it that my strongest player- is now my shittiest one too."
I look back at him, my face burning. Yes, my game has been lacking- a lot. I just don't have the energy I used to have, plus it's almost like everyone on this team has been getting stronger- which is insane if you think about it. I'm the one working my ass off in the gym.
I don't reply. Instead, I lower my eyes in embarrassment. What would my dad think?
"I don't want to kick you off the team." Coach Wallace says. Then suddenly his voice softens. "Anything you wanna tell me, kid."
I shake my head. How could I even begin to explain to him- all the crazy thoughts running through my brain- if I can't even explain them to myself?
"I'm fine Coach," I say, hoping my voice sounds as secure as it sounds in my head. "Just gotta get my head back in the game."
"Atta boy." Coach grins. "You've always been my favorite, son. Never seen anybody like you in this school, not in years."
Great more pressure. Just what I needed.
...
That day I don't home from the gym till 10. Moms there when I get back, with worried eyes. Maybe she's getting suspicious. I doubt it.
"Hey. Hungry?" She say's putting down her book.
"Not really," I say. "I'm just gonna go-"
"No." She says shaking her head. "You've burned a zillion calories at the gym, you gotta recharge hon."
