Thin Girls by Diana Clarke

Author:Diana Clarke [Clarke, Diana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062986689
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2020-06-09T00:00:00+00:00

In the 1930s, a dieting trend emerged in the media. Slimming soaps, which professed to wash away extra weight by simply working up a lather in the shower. See all those women, in the midst of the depression, still desperately scouring their skin, scrubbing themselves skinny.

2007 (18 years old—Lily: 193 lbs, Rose: 71 lbs)

Jemima was still grounded. Her parents heard of the fire from afar, somewhere European and pretend-sounding, their fairy-tale life, and they put Jemima under house arrest, paid the maid overtime to keep watch outside her bedroom door. I was spending my afternoons with the television. I watched the cooking channel compulsively.

People obsessed with food either become chefs or anorectics. I watched shows about making elaborate cakes and cooking school shows and game shows that made two food trucks compete to see which one could churn the most meals out of its tiny van kitchen. Something about watching food on a screen comforted me. It reminded me of my hunger, almost satisfied a desire to taste. Food at a safe distance.

I was sucking a Tic Tac, watching a speed cooking show, a gossip magazine opened to a page about Kat Mitchells’s eating disorder recovery open on my lap, pictures of her before and after body, when I heard my voice.

“Hey, Rosie.”

I turned to find Lily, greeting me. We hadn’t spoken in a long time and had taken to treating each other like shadows of ourselves. Something to be acknowledged and then ignored.

She was with a boy. Robbie Newton. The same one who had stood her up all those years ago. I frowned at her, communicating my distaste, even as I said, “Hey, Lil. Hey, Robbie.”

“Mind if we join you?”

I did mind, but I could taste a light chill that made my teeth ache with cold, and it was clear that Lily did not want to be alone with this boy. Was afraid of being alone with him, even, and the extent of that fear was proven by how she was willing to lay down her pride and speak to me, be around me, for the first time in months.

“Sure,” I said, scooting to one end of the couch.

“How’s it going, Rosie?” said Robbie, his chin as absent as ever.

“Rose,” Lily and I both corrected him at once. I had never let anyone other than her call me Rosie. We refused to exchange glances. Refused to acknowledge how good it felt to connect on our own little frequency again.

“I’m fine,” I added. “What’s up?”

“So you made that fire, huh?”

I shrugged.

“Are you and Jemima Gates, like, a thing?”

I snorted.

“Hey,” said Robbie, hands up in surrender. “I didn’t start the rumor.”

“There’s a rumor that Jemima and I are together?” I said, turning on him. “Did you know about this, Lily?”

Lily shrugged. I felt the lemony lie bleed into my mouth.

“Whatever,” I said.

“Have you, like, made out?” said Robbie.

“Shut up, Robbie,” said Lily.

I looked at her, then back at Robbie, said nothing, settled into the couch, arms crossed, tried to focus on the show.

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