Hunger

Jessie is a 17 year old boy with an issue that everyone forgets. Jessie knows Hunger like he knows no other. He loves Hunger, and he's pretty sure Hunger loves him. Jessie doesn't remember what it's like to have a full meal, or a full stomach. Will someone realize their friendship before its too late?

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5. Doctor

There's a new girl at school. She's wearing an Asking Alexandra shirt and oversized jeans that look like they belong on a guy. Everything about her is odd. Her hair has streaks of dark blue through it. She has septum piercings and a nose stud. Her ear is pierced all the way around. She's captivating.

Now is not the time to be getting caught up in a relationship I remind myself. Nothing good will spring from heart break.

She's in every single class.
Every.

Single.

Class.

Her last name is Stone and mine is Sullivan, which means she sits in from me in every class but art. She sits across the room, yet I continue to stare at her.

No one is saying a thing to her, nor is she saying anything to anyone.

Why do I care?

Her car is even parked next to mine. She turns right when I turn left to go home though, the first time today we've separated. 

I have a doctor appointment today. A checkup. Mom is taking me, just in case they take my blood. I can't stand when I get my blood taken, though I can deal with blood when I make the blood come up myself.

I am now down to 126.5 lbs, but I won't let them know that. I keep fishing weights for times like these. I have collected enough to make me weigh 10 lbs heavier, but I choose to only use 5 pounds worth of weights. I just hope they don't make me take my shoes.

I drink two water bottles and eat baby carrots on the way to the doctor's office.

The scale told me I weigh 132.5 lbs, just like it should with water and food. The number, even though it's fake, still scares me I don't like knowing that the doctor is writing down such a large number. He probably thinking I'm obese. I almost apologize for him when he says my weight out loud. It makes me feel fatter than anyone can imagine.

I don't tell it to his face, but when I walk to the car, I whisper under my breath an apology.

"You look smaller than 135," Mom says.

I bite my lip, trying to not correct what Mom says. I don't want her to know I care. "What do you mean?"

"You just look" she adjusts her mirror, "thinner. Like you don't weigh that much. Maybe I should add more protein to your diet."

"I don't really like meat that much anymore. Beans would be cool." Beans would not be cool. Stop caring Mom. You've never cared before.

"I'll have to go buy some."

I'll have to try to stay away from the house.

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