I walk to my locker, still sobbing, and pull out a few books, sliding them in. I shuffle toward the office and the bell suddenly rings, students flooding form every corner. I'm jostled around in the crowd until someone grabs my hand. I'm jerked back and Anthony's face is inches from mine.
"You're going to be late," I whipser.
"Won't you be, too?" he whispers back.
"I-I'm going home."
"We're still going to prom."
"Anthony, I don't want to go," and the crowd breaks the lock that our hands had on each other. I walk toward the office as Anthony disappears toward a classroom. My dad comes within the next 20 minutes, but it feels like an eternity with all the teachers walking by and staring at me. I can almost hear their thoughts,
What's her problem? Why is she in our break room taking up so much space? What happened to the fat girl this time?
As we drove away from school, I was sure that he was taking me home. That changed when we took a different exit on the highway.
"Where are we going?" I ask and my voice sounds raspy and pathetic.
"I have to take you to the doctor. That counselor, Mitchel, recommended that you see a therapist. Anyway, the doctor has to prescribe one."
We pull up to the office and we go inside. My dad has to fill in a ton of papers while I wait in a room the smells strongly of antiseptic. Once everything is filled out, the doctor leads me to another room.
"Alright, Ally. I need to just take down a few notes before asking you a few questions before I can tell you which therapist to go to." I nod. He checks my ears, my eyes, and my throat. Then he checks my height before asking me to remove my shoes and belt to be weighed. I follow his instructions and stand on the scale, a knot in my chest tightening with every second. I look down at the number and see 76lbs. I feel my throat constrict and I want to vomit. I hear the doctor make some weird sound in his throat and I know that he's think exactly what I'm thinking; that I'm overweight. He asks me to step off of the scale and then to step back on. I feel prickling in my eyes because I don't want to see that number again. I keep my eyes closed until he says that I can step off again. He holds my shoulder and leads me back to his office where my dad is sitting. I slowly put my shoes back on, dreading what he has to say, but he asks me to go back to the main office so that he and my dad can talk alone. I sit alone in the empty office, the hard wooden bench beneath me not offering any warmth. A nurse comes by and presses a creamy cup of coffee into my hands. I take a few sips, relishing the caffeine, which will help to dull my appetite. My dad comes out in a rush, signing a few things before practically pulling me to the car. He slams himself into the front seat and I sit next to him, suddenly afraid of what he's going to say.
"How? Wha-? Nevermind," he mutters.
God, I hate myself.
YOU ARE READING
Sinking Through the Cracks
Roman d'amourAlly has never had friends. Ally has never had parents who really cared for her. Ally has never had a peaceful day at school. She is anorexic, though she has never had it treated. She has horrible times of depression though she always just puts...
