I put a meatball on my plate, a small piece of bread, and a spoonful of pasta. Before the surgery, this would have been a couple of bites, but now it will be my whole meal. I force myself to take a bite of the meatball first. Tiny. The end of a forkful. I chew like crazy and swallow. It goes down, but I want a drink of water. I reach for the glass and then make myself stop. I remember Rat’s experiment and that is why, when I’m sitting here chewing away at this tiny bite of meatball and wanting water to drink with it so badly you’d think I was staggering across a desert, I don’t pick up the glass in front of me.
One of the rules. Like eat the protein first and don’t eat anything sweet. Strange though, it’s one of the hardest rules to follow. Now I crave water while I’m eating. I guess you don’t miss it until you know you can’t have it. I started out deciding it was a stupid rule and I wasn’t going to follow it. I mean, after all, I had enough to suffer through at every meal, why would drinking make such a difference?
Briella slides into the chair across from Rat, breaking my focus on the water glass in front of me.
“You’re back early,” Charlotte says. “I thought you were going to spend the night at your dad’s.”
“He had things to do,” Briella mumbles, stuffing a huge forkful of pasta into her mouth.
“How’s the baby?” my dad asks. Charlotte glances over at my father with a quick frown. The new baby is not a popular topic with Briella. Even I know that.
“Just like any other baby,” Briella says. “It poops and cries.”
The subject is closed. Everyone eats in silence for a while, until finally Charlotte can’t stand the awkwardness anymore.
“Lindsey got her roommate assignment today from the University of Kansas,” Charlotte announces in her fake perky voice. Lindsey doesn’t look up from her lap; her food sits untouched on her plate. I watch Briella drink half a glass of her water and then effortlessly go back to stuffing another forkful of spaghetti into her mouth. “She met her roommate at cheerleader camp and guess what?”
No one guesses. I’m really thirsty. My hand crawls a little closer to the water glass.
“They are both going to major in communications this fall!”
“Yay,” Briella says in a monotone.
Just one sip. Not enough to water down the food in my tiny little stomach and drain it out the hole in the bottom. Just a little tiny bit.
Lindsey finally looks up and across the table at her mom. “I need a new bedspread and curtains for the dorm room.”
“I don’t know, Lindsey.” Charlotte looks uncomfortable and glances at my father. “We already spent a lot on your new computer.”
“Whatever,” Lindsey says, and goes back to texting.
Charlotte’s eyes fill up with hurt, but she blinks it away quickly. I can’t help but feel sorry for her.
“Dad says he feels bad he missed the graduation ceremony. Says he’s going to call you and take you out for lunch,” Briella tells Lindsey, who finally picks up a whole meatball with her fork and takes a big bite off the side.
“Yeah, like we both know that’s going to happen,” Lindsey mumbles through the meatball.
Charlotte turns her attention to Rat. “What are you doing this afternoon?”
“Ever and I are going for a run,” Rat says, like this is completely possible.
I put down the water glass before it makes it to my lips. Gigi is probably dancing her way through the summer. Chance is definitely playing baseball. And Ever is running. Right.
“I could go with you,” Briella says, breaking my focus on the water glass. “I like to run.”
Really? Are you kidding me? Who likes to run?
“Sure,” Rat says. I kick him under the table, and he looks over at me with raised eyebrows.
I frown at him, but I can tell by his puzzled expression he has no clue why I’m annoyed. Briella pushes away from the table and heads up the stairs, calling back, “I’ll just get my tennis shoes.”
Rat and I go outside and wait for her on the front steps. I want to go upstairs and get my iPod. Music blaring in my ears is the only thing I can think of that would make this any better, but the idea of climbing up the stairs is too much trouble. If that’s too hard, how am I supposed to run around the block?
“The whole neighborhood’s going to love this. They’ll probably feel the vibrations in the ground and think it’s some kind of earthquake. Hope you don’t break the concrete,” Skinny says.
“I don’t want to do this,” I say.
“The first day of school is only a few months away,” Rat says. “And then you can try out for the musical. And go to the Fall Ball.”