“Lo, the party starts at 8, where are you?”
The screen lit up on Dolores’ phone as the text came in, pouring bright, cool light into the dark dorm room. Her lock screen was a photo from high school of her and her friends, a group of five or six gleeful girls clustered together and smiling for the camera. The text obscured her friend Izzy’s face, just as every text did. Izzy finally stirred and rolled over in her bed, glancing at her friend’s huge body with a censored face. Feels appropriate, she thought. Like always.
She picked up the phone with her own chubby fingers and texted Amy back. “sry ames, not feeling good tonight, think i need 2 stay in”
“Shit I’m sorry!!” came the reply. “Can we bring you something? There’s time to come before the party.”
“No worries,” Dolores typed, “im ok, just need 2 rest.”
“Ok Lo, feel better soon love.”
Dolores locked the phone again and flipped it over, and the room plunged again into darkness. The only light came from the edges of the doors, light from the hall outside leaking in. Even that much bugged Dolores and made her pull a pillow over her face and groan. On top of everything else, she was hungry--starving--but there was no food in her room, and right now she just wasn’t up to getting out of bed, putting on a coat, and going to buy some.
She wasn’t feeling well, but she wasn’t sick. Today, October 31, was the one-year anniversary of Izzy’s disappearance, the first time Dolores had had to live through that day again, and she couldn’t stand it. She’d skipped all her classes today and stayed in her room without doing anything, talking to anyone, or even having a meal. At least I’m sticking to my diet, she thought, but her stomach rumbled and twinged with pain. She pulled the pillow tighter over her face until her cheeks started to ache, and then she let it go.
A year ago, Dolores and Izzy felt like they were at the summit of young life. They’d been close since middle school, and in high school every moment they didn’t spend in class or asleep they spent together. Each girl’s parents and siblings were like family to the other. Izzy came to Dolores’ softball games, munching on popcorn and hot dogs next to the roughly three other people who ever sat in the stands to watch the losingest team in the league. But she always screamed her lungs out cheering for Dolores, setting her billowing double chin to wobbling and once spilling all her popcorn on the guy in front of her when Dolores knocked one out of the park.
Dolores, for her part, loved spending hours lying spread eagle on Izzy’s bedroom floor after they finished their homework, listening to her sing and play the mandolin. She was also supportive when Izzy started to diet the summer before their senior year, even though Dolores saw how much it made her friend suffer. By then Izzy, always big, had cleared 350 pounds and seemed to be gaining faster than ever. Her parents were giving her more and more shit, and she was having a harder and harder time finding clothes, and at some point she broke down and decided that losing weight would just make life easier. Izzy loved food, though, and Dolores was no skinny minny, either--so much of their hanging out revolved around snacking and going out to eat. After the diet started, Izzy got crabby and tired and sad, and Dolores spent the bulk of their time together consoling and reassuring her. But even then things weren’t all bad, and Dolores still remembered the moment last September when her hands moved from Izzy’s back to the inside of her shirt, when Izzy lifted her head from Dolores’ shoulder and brought their lips together. In that afternoon it felt like a veil had been pulled away and a thrilling and terrifying new world revealed. Izzy’s parents were out that day, and they didn’t leave her room until dark. And that was only two weeks before Izzy disappeared.
A tremendous crack outside set Dolores’ dorm windows to shivering, and the light at the edges of the door disappeared. Dolores pulled the pillow off her face and pricked up her ears: the low buzz of the mini-fridge was gone, too. The power was out.
“Shit…” Dolores muttered. She heaved herself up in bed, noting that it was easier to do so than it’d been even a month or two before. She weighed less, her belly took up less room in front of her. Her diet was working. She felt a little like a hypocrite after all her secret criticism of Izzy’s diet last year, but after a senior year of high school spent in moping and isolation, she’d put on 40 pounds from reclusive bingeing. She’d lost touch with most of her high school friends that way and gone from one of the best hitters on the softball team to one of the worst. It wasn’t till she started college, made new friends, and went on a diet that she started to feel like a person again. It was all pretty new--her college career was barely a month old, and she was only down 10 pounds from a high of 290--but it did make her feel different. Maybe that’s because she felt more in control again. Maybe it’s because the diet felt like a tribute to Izzy, who never did lose any weight on her own diet. Maybe, thought Dolores, wherever she is, she finally did lose some weight.
The screen lit up on Dolores’ phone as the text came in, pouring bright, cool light into the dark dorm room. Her lock screen was a photo from high school of her and her friends, a group of five or six gleeful girls clustered together and smiling for the camera. The text obscured her friend Izzy’s face, just as every text did. Izzy finally stirred and rolled over in her bed, glancing at her friend’s huge body with a censored face. Feels appropriate, she thought. Like always.
She picked up the phone with her own chubby fingers and texted Amy back. “sry ames, not feeling good tonight, think i need 2 stay in”
“Shit I’m sorry!!” came the reply. “Can we bring you something? There’s time to come before the party.”
“No worries,” Dolores typed, “im ok, just need 2 rest.”
“Ok Lo, feel better soon love.”
Dolores locked the phone again and flipped it over, and the room plunged again into darkness. The only light came from the edges of the doors, light from the hall outside leaking in. Even that much bugged Dolores and made her pull a pillow over her face and groan. On top of everything else, she was hungry--starving--but there was no food in her room, and right now she just wasn’t up to getting out of bed, putting on a coat, and going to buy some.
She wasn’t feeling well, but she wasn’t sick. Today, October 31, was the one-year anniversary of Izzy’s disappearance, the first time Dolores had had to live through that day again, and she couldn’t stand it. She’d skipped all her classes today and stayed in her room without doing anything, talking to anyone, or even having a meal. At least I’m sticking to my diet, she thought, but her stomach rumbled and twinged with pain. She pulled the pillow tighter over her face until her cheeks started to ache, and then she let it go.
A year ago, Dolores and Izzy felt like they were at the summit of young life. They’d been close since middle school, and in high school every moment they didn’t spend in class or asleep they spent together. Each girl’s parents and siblings were like family to the other. Izzy came to Dolores’ softball games, munching on popcorn and hot dogs next to the roughly three other people who ever sat in the stands to watch the losingest team in the league. But she always screamed her lungs out cheering for Dolores, setting her billowing double chin to wobbling and once spilling all her popcorn on the guy in front of her when Dolores knocked one out of the park.
Dolores, for her part, loved spending hours lying spread eagle on Izzy’s bedroom floor after they finished their homework, listening to her sing and play the mandolin. She was also supportive when Izzy started to diet the summer before their senior year, even though Dolores saw how much it made her friend suffer. By then Izzy, always big, had cleared 350 pounds and seemed to be gaining faster than ever. Her parents were giving her more and more shit, and she was having a harder and harder time finding clothes, and at some point she broke down and decided that losing weight would just make life easier. Izzy loved food, though, and Dolores was no skinny minny, either--so much of their hanging out revolved around snacking and going out to eat. After the diet started, Izzy got crabby and tired and sad, and Dolores spent the bulk of their time together consoling and reassuring her. But even then things weren’t all bad, and Dolores still remembered the moment last September when her hands moved from Izzy’s back to the inside of her shirt, when Izzy lifted her head from Dolores’ shoulder and brought their lips together. In that afternoon it felt like a veil had been pulled away and a thrilling and terrifying new world revealed. Izzy’s parents were out that day, and they didn’t leave her room until dark. And that was only two weeks before Izzy disappeared.
A tremendous crack outside set Dolores’ dorm windows to shivering, and the light at the edges of the door disappeared. Dolores pulled the pillow off her face and pricked up her ears: the low buzz of the mini-fridge was gone, too. The power was out.
“Shit…” Dolores muttered. She heaved herself up in bed, noting that it was easier to do so than it’d been even a month or two before. She weighed less, her belly took up less room in front of her. Her diet was working. She felt a little like a hypocrite after all her secret criticism of Izzy’s diet last year, but after a senior year of high school spent in moping and isolation, she’d put on 40 pounds from reclusive bingeing. She’d lost touch with most of her high school friends that way and gone from one of the best hitters on the softball team to one of the worst. It wasn’t till she started college, made new friends, and went on a diet that she started to feel like a person again. It was all pretty new--her college career was barely a month old, and she was only down 10 pounds from a high of 290--but it did make her feel different. Maybe that’s because she felt more in control again. Maybe it’s because the diet felt like a tribute to Izzy, who never did lose any weight on her own diet. Maybe, thought Dolores, wherever she is, she finally did lose some weight.
