Natural Selection

natural selection

“HAVE YOU eaten today, Laurie?”

Of course I have eaten. I’m no anorexic. And besides... I’m 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 all over the place the third time out. He paid no attention to me anyway, he always looked distracted and somewhat lost.

    “I have.” I said.

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 grinding the beans and shoving them through the air vents?

    “What was it? Was it good?” Joe asked.

    “Well, it was just a sandwich and Cheese Nips.”

    “Okay, be honest with me. “ Joe lifted his glasses and crossed his legs. “How much of it 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 there was no pizza party in Spanish class 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 paper and wrappers, which seemed unusual because of his impeccably clean office. Almost everything in this room was in its 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 the bookshelf were facing east.

    “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. “No, yours. This is for you.”

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

    “What’s this 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.”

He couldn’t be serious. This was ridiculous. He actually wanted to keep track of what I was eating? I imagined myself writing in this book at lunch time in the empty music hall, after every bite I took and swallowed. I laughed aloud.

    “You’ve got to be joking.” I said.

    “I’m not. Laurie, 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 to you, and I am here to help. I am no expert on the matter, but you would be surprised on 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 it. “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, whose locker is next to mine. I politely asked her to move her locker door when I needed to get my sweater at the end of the day, and she said no. No.  Simple as that. Was she joking? Should I carefully move her locker door anyway? Should I take that 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 to my locker 10 minutes later after aimlessly walking around the school.

    “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 Brandy better, and we’ve become somewhat friends despite my feelings towards making new ones at the moment. Gigi’s fashion changed everyday, each day daring and with personality. I loved how she could be so outgoing, 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, as Brandy mildly swears and is a bit more introverted. The swearing made me uncomfortable at first, but then I eased into it and learned to laugh along.

Monday in English, Gigi asked me if I was going to the party at Jaimie’s that following 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 at the wrong chapter.

    “You totally should. His parents aren’t going to be 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 like 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.” The truth was, I hated parties. I thought they were pointless and stupid... Even though I’ve never been to one. It didn’t matter, though- they show them accurately on TV. Kids get drunk, making out, police are eventually called... This just sounded stupid to me.

Gigi 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 that I could peek in and catch Gigi’s eye to make her happy, and get the hell out of there as soon as she looks away.

    “Maybe.”  I said.

    “Now that’s more like it.”

Again, I peered back at Jaimie. This time he looked back at me, and I noticed those big dark eyes, which seemed familiar, and I think I understood why. My mind flashed to eleven years ago, and I suddenly saw him, a bike, and a vine of magic cherry tomatoes. I looked away so 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 that summer when I was five..

    “What was what?”

Gigi rolled her eyes. “You two totally just stared at each other.”

Jaimie probably didn’t even remember me at all. I mean, it was eleven years ago, that summer when we were best friends. Five year olds are so easy to make friends. All you had to do was wave or say something funny that makes the other laugh, and you’re in. His parents brought him over Rachel’s house while 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 Jamie was holding on loosely to his mother’s hand, looking a bit weary. I was almost afraid of them, and I didn’t know why- I felt extra small opening the door for them, and saying “Hi.”. They didn’t say Hi back. His mother just let go of his hand, said goodbye, and left, not even bothering to call for Rachel and thank her for looking after him.

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 Mae’s garden.

I don’t think I’ll remind him. He’ll look at me like I was an idiot or something. I’ll save the embarrassment... Maybe I won’t even pop into the party at all.