natural selection

         "HAVE YOU eaten today, Laurie?"

Of course I have eaten. I'm no anorexic. And besides... I am getting over it. I still thought of my ripped apart sandwich at lunch today, and the nibbled Cheese Nips I had accidentally let sit in the music hallway. There was nobody there today, and I was completely alone except for the in and out of the chorus teacher, dropping sheet music the third time out, and muttering unintelligibly. He paid no attention to me anyway, he always looked distracted, and someone lost.

             "I have."

The office was no different from the last time, still clean, still clinical, that same smell with that coffee bean scent lingering around. Surely it couldn't be coming from the bags on the shelves? What- was he grounding the beans and shoving them through the air vents?

             "What was it? Was it good?" Joe asked.

             "No, it was just a sandwich and Cheese Nips."

              "Okay, be honest with me." Joe lifted his glasses and crossed his legs. He was in serious mode. "How much of your lunch did you eat?:

I replied, "I didn't have a lot. Only because I wasn't hungry after the pizza party in Spanish class."

Of course, I knew that he knew the pizza party was a lie by the way he had no response, just nodded. He got up from his leather seat, which instantly puffed up as he stood, and walked to the side of the room where a framed picture of a pretty brunette woman was.

He started to shuffle through boxes of papers and wrappers, which seemed unusual because of his impeccably clean office. Almost everything in his room was in it's place. The books were color coordinated, the coffee beans were lined up in alphabetical order, and on top of that, every knick-knack on his desk or on top of his bookshelf faced east. If that isn't OCD, I don't know what is.

                 "Alright, Laurie."

He sat back down in the leather chair, holding a brown velvet notebook.

                "Your diary?" I asked.

Joe chuckled, and flipped through the pages. "This is for you."

I stretched out my hand to take the soft notebook from his hands.

                 "What's it for?"

The inside had dates on the header, and dotted lines to write.

                 "It's a food journal. I want you to write what you've been eating and when. I want to be able to keep track of this."

                 "You're not f*****g serious."

                  "I am."

At the end of the first session, he told me profanity was acceptable and in face encouraged so I could express myself. I find it rather easy to swear in front of Joe, even though I don't know him... at all, really. I don't even swear in front of my friends much. 

                 "Laurie," He started again in his serious tone. "I know you are getting better, and I know you have been making enormous efforts to keep yourself healthy. But just bouncing back from bulimia is not an easy thing to do by yourself, and I am here to talk you you, and I am here to help. I am no expert at the matter, but you would be surprised how many girls I have had just like you, who I was able to help."

My arms were folded, and I didn't want to talk about this. "Do we have to talk about this?"

                "No, we don't. What do you want to talk about? How was your day at school?"

It was just like yesterday, except worse. I had already made an enemy, this girl Melinda, who's locker is next to mine. I politely asked her to move when I needed to get my sweater at the end of the day, and the b***h said no. No. Simple as that. Was she joking? Should I carefully move her locker door? Should I take the damn cell phone out of her hand and throw it down the hallway? I considered this as an option for a moment, as I glared at her while she back and forthed between the mirror and her cell phone. I ended up coming back to my locker an hour later.

                  "I don't want to talk about that either."

Joe slumped in his seat and rubbed his temples. 

Over the next few days I rejected the food journal. It remains under stacks of papers from school, collecting dust on its spine. I have also been getting to know Gigi and Brandi better, and we've become somewhat friends. Gigi's fashion changed everyday, each day daring and with personality. 

I loved how she could be so out going, even to people she doesn't know. She can be herself no matter who's watching, uncensored by even the teachers.

                  "That's bullshit, I hate poetry," She said to Mr. Hanna Thursday in English. Gigi's favorite thing to do: Swearing. Cursing seemed to match best with her fiery personality, and Brandi mildly swears and is a bit more introverted. 

It made me uncomfortable at first, but then I eased into it and learned to laugh t it.

Monday in English, Gigi asked me if I was going to the party at Jaimie's his Saturday.

                 "No, I'm not. Why?"

She was pretending to be talking about the reading with me, so she held the book between the two of us, holding it open in the wrong chapter.

                  "You totally should. His parents aren't home. No f*****g parents. Do you know what that means?" She pointed at a paragraph in the book as Mr. Hanna scanned the room. "And anyway, you live like, three seconds away. You might as well pop in."

I peered over my shoulder to Jaimie who was also goofing around, making hand gestures that clearly weren't for Huckleberry Finn.

                 "I don't know..."

                 "Why not? Why the hell not?"

I looked at her, who was dressed in green today, her shirt reading SAVE THE EARTH. PLANT A TREE. 

                 "I wasn't invited."

She flipped her hair in that amazing Barbie doll way. "Nobody is invited. Jaimie mutters the word 'party'  and people show up. It's like natural selection."

I narrowed my eyes in thought. "Natural selection... Do you even know what you're talking about?"

                 "Whatever."

I thought about it, and concluded it wouldn't be so bad, only since I can just go and leave whenever I feel. I imagined the party in my head- loud music, everybody dancing, which, I can't do. Roughhousing leading to the ultimate spilling of the punch bowl. I'd mind my own business though... if I went.

               "Maybe." I said.

               "Now that's more like it."

Again, I peered back at Jaimie. This time he looked back at me, which those big dark eyes. My mind flashed to 12 years ago, and I suddenly say him, a bike, and a vine of magic cherry tomatoes. I looked away fast to see Gigi staring at me through her green rimmed sunglasses.

               "What the hell was that?"

It was him. He was my summer friend who I'd hang out with on Rain Street. Jaimie Maxwell Junior. 

He probably didn't even remember me. I mean, it was twelve years ago, that summer when we were best friends. Five year olds are so easy to please, so easy to make friends. All you had to do was wave or say something to make the other laugh, and you're in. His parent's brought him over Aunt Rachel's house wile they went out for a day, which was almost everyday. I only remembered seeing them once, when I was standing in the doorway when they knocked on the door to drop Jaimie off. They were dressed so formally; his mother in a nice black dress and his father in a suit and tie. Little Jaimie was holding on loosely to his mother's hand, looking a bit weary. I was almost afraid of them, I don't know why- and I felt extra small opening the door for them, and saying "Hi". They didn't even say 'Hi' back. His mother just let of his hand, said goodbye, and left, not even bothering to call for Aunt Rachel and thank her for taking care of  him for them. 

When they were gone, we'd usually color and run around after PB&J lunches, build forts out of sticks in the backyard, and most memorably when we'd run around in Minni Mae's garden.

I don't think I'll remind him. He'll probably look at me like I was an idiot or something. I'll save the embarrassment... Maybe  I wont even go to the party at all.

Reviews

[Rhea752]

childhood friends can stretch far. my best friend has been my best friend since 1st grade. great write!!! :)