Paperweight by Meg Haston

Author:Meg Haston [Haston, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2015-04-28T23:00:00+00:00

day eleven

Monday, July 14, 11:57 a.m.

GROUP the next day is held in the kitchen again, which makes me want to bail. But this time, there are no caving cereal boxes, no dripping cylinders of ice cream, no hardened syrup stains on the counter. So I step inside, next to the other girls in Cottage Three.

We wait. Leaning against the counter, Ashley tugs her knit tee over her belly. Teagan plucks a single strand of hair from her head and examines the white-bulbed root. Cate flicks the tube coming out of her nose. We’re huddled together like the world’s most pathetic peewee football team, silently debating our final play. It won’t matter. We’ll get our asses kicked.

“Welcome to group, Cottage Three!” Shrink says brightly, joining the huddle.

We all make a noise like mehhh.

“Today’s group is a meal group,” she says. “We’ll cook our lunch together and then process as we eat.”

“What are we making? Do we get to pick?” I pinch my hospital bracelet between my index finger and thumb. It occurs to me that maintaining my weight this way could make me a Yellow Girl. But I’m not a Yellow Girl, I think, suddenly pissed. I look at the only other Red Girl here—Cate—but she’s nodding, like okay, okay.

Shrink shakes her head. “Here’s the menu: spaghetti with salad, and brownies for dessert.”

I purse my lips together to contain the burst of laughter that’s waiting behind the pink flesh like machine gun fire. Pasta? Salad, with dressing of course, slick, greasy calories that ruin the vegetables. Brownies? I look around to see if anyone else gets the joke. No one’s laughing.

“Before we divvy up the jobs, I’d like you all to choose something to drink.” Shrink nods at the refrigerator.

Ashley steps up first. The refrigerator makes a slurping sound when she jerks the door open. Standing at attention are rows of shiny aluminum cans—Coke, Sprite, Dr Pepper. I don’t even have to summon the numbers. They come instantly. 140calories39gramsofcarbs39gramsofsugar.Toomuchtoomuchtoomuch.

“Where’s the diet?” I ask.

“There is no diet,” Shrink says evenly. “Can we pause for a second? Check in with how everyone’s doing?”

“Oh.” Ashley is already clutching a fat red can.

“Seriously, though. That stuff is bad for you,” I say.

Ashley’s face crumples like a crushed can.

“I mean, I’m sorry. But like, isn’t the goal to get us to be healthy”—fat!—“or whatever? Because this isn’t. It isn’t.” I hate the way I sound, like a shitty whiny kid, even though I’m the only one here who’s thinking clearly.

Ashley closes the refrigerator door. She’s still holding the can.

“The goal is to start to take the fear out of food, out of eating.” I hate the way Shrink’s voice gets all gooey when she’s saying the worst things. “The goal is to show you that you can start to take the power away from some of your fear foods.”

“Do we have to?” Cate says quietly, pinching her tube. She’s staring at the floor.

Thank you.

Shrink shakes her head. “You don’t have to. But if you’re feeling some anxiety around the idea of taking a soda, then I would encourage you to challenge yourself.

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