Hungry

Chapter 2

*The picture I added is how I imagine Oliver. Yes, it is Timothee Chalamet."

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"You ready?" Oliver asks as I walk up to the stands.

"As ready as I'll ever be." I grab my harness and drum, and put them on. People always say music is a great way to express yourself, and they're not wrong.

"Watch me completely screw this up somehow," I say.

"You are literally one of the best players, if not the best, you're not gonna screw this up." Oliver tells me.

"Okay, bud. You've always been better than me, that's why you always lead the band off. We both know when I get nervous, I completely mess things up. In eighth grade I had a rhythm test that I got so nervous for I forgot how to subdivide!"

"Gosh, that is rough. If you get nervous, just think that it's just you and me on a football field practicing like we are now."

I take a deep breath in. "Yeah, I will," I say. It will probably work, I mean, I'm most comfortable playing on the field, marching next to Oliver. It's when I'm genuinely at my most vulnerable and true self. I never get to be myself, and it's nice to finally let loose.

For the next hour we just play. We hit the head of the drum like there is no tomorrow, adding in impressive moves that will wow over the judges. We laugh, we argue, but overall, we have a great time. Who knew someone could bond over drumming like Oliver and I do. It's kind of ironic really, how I used to be so intimidated by Oliver's playing. I could barely even talk to him during that first homecoming game, and now we've been through another two together. We're closer than ever. I've never really had friends. I mean, I have people that I talk to, but no one that I would consider my best friend. Oliver is different though. We've known each other for two years now, but I feel like I've known him forever. I said this once and I'll say it again, I am going to miss Oliver so much when he graduates.

"Do you need a ride home?" Oliver asks as we pack up our equipment for the night. We should have been gone hours ago, but we are just leaving now.

"No, thank you. I live just down the road. I don't want to be a pain." I reply.

"You're not. It's chilly out here, are you sure? It's also getting pretty late."

"Really, I'm fine, thank you." I say as we begin to walk down the bleachers together.

"How's home going?" Oliver asks randomly.

"Oh, it's going." I reply.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not necessarily, but you're going to make me say something anyway."

"Wow, you know me so well," Oliver teases.

"They want me to quit marching band," I come out and say bluntly.

Oliver stops walking and just stares at me like I have five heads. "They what?"

"They say it causes me too much stress and it's not good for me. Little do they know, it's the only thing that relieves me from my stress," I sigh and rub my forehead. "I don't know, maybe I should. I mean you're graduating this year and leaving me here all alone with two years left. I love drumming, but I'm gonna miss you, Oliver. After this season's over I'm barely going to see you. Who else am I going to rant to? Who else am I going to compete in drumming competitions with?"

"Hope, you're essential to the band. You can't just give it up because I won't be there. You can hang out with Liam, or even Ashton. Plus, I'll come and visit every football game."

"Maybe you're right. I can't think straight, I'm so freaking exhausted. No matter how much I sleep, I'm constantly tired."

"Maybe some food will help with that."

"Oliver I swear -," He cuts me off.

"Oh come on Hope! I hate to see you doing this to yourself. You're so frail, and weak. I'm surprised you can even carry a drum at this point. Please, for me, please, let's just go get some fries or something!" Oliver practically begs me.

"Fine," I give in. Why did I give in?

"Get in the car, I'm driving."

"At least I don't have to go back home and have to listen to my family harassing me now," I say as I get into the passenger seat. "Can you take me to the ice rink after? I have practice at 8:45, which means we have thirty minutes to eat."

"I'm only dropping you off at the rink if you eat dinner."

"Okay."

At first I didn't want to do it. The meat looked rancid to me along with the unhealthy slabs of carbs that people call fries. I just sat there stalling until Oliver forced me to take a bite. At first, I hated it. I wanted to throw up when I tasted the food, but Oliver kept persisting I finish. With each bite my mind kept telling me no, but my stomach kept saying yes. I never noticed how hungry I was until now. I wanted to eat the entire restaurant. The whole entire ride to the ice rink Oliver kept rambling on about something, but I could not focus on his words. All I could think about is what I had just done. I needed to reverse the damage, so I did. Right when I walked into the rink, I ran straight to the bathroom. With fingers down my throat, I reversed the damage that I had caused myself.

"Hope, are you alright?" I hear a voice coming from outside the stall.

"Uh, yeah. Just give me a second," I say as I wipe my mouth and flush the toilet.

I open the stall door to reveal Deondra Diaz. She's the best skater at the rink. Maybe that's because she's the only person brave enough to actually try the big, daring moves, but everyone envies her. Being that everything else in my life seems like a cliche, you would expect Deondra to be one, but she is not. You would expect her to be mean and snotty, but she's genuinely kind. Sometimes she says some messed up things, but that's because she has a tendency to never think before she speaks. She dyes her hair quite frequently, and right now it is a light pink with slight grey undertones. It's naturally wavy, but you would never be able to tell because she always has it up in a messy bun. She has olive skin and a slim, toned body. Deondra is the embodiment of the word perfect.

"Did you just throw up?" She stares at me as she says those words trying to force the answer out of me.

"I must have eaten something that was rough. I'm fine, don't worry about it." I reply.

"If I had a quarter for every time I came in here to catch you throwing up, I would be rich. Either you have an extremely weak immune system, or something is going on." She says as she raises herself up to sit on the bathroom sink. "Seriously, Hope, what's going on?"

Deondra doesn't go to my school so she doesn't know about the event that occured period one. If I tell her the truth, she'll be like everyone else, so I decided to say nothing. I look at the floor innocently waiting for her to leave.

"Fine," She says hopping down from where she was seated. "I'm telling coach." She begins to walk out of the bathroom when I grab her arm.

"Please, I'm begging you, don't," I plead.

"Then what the hell is wrong with you?" She asks.

"I can't say," I simply reply.

"Well, you better come up with a good excuse for coach," with that she struts out of the bathroom.

"Shit," I mumble as I walk out after her.