Une Fleure Fanée

Week 11 Part 7 (Saturday)

     "Where is this place? I'll order a really big Uber, it's cheaper," Mom offers, and Ms. Tricia shows her the address.

     "What are y'all getting at Starbies?" Pressley asks as we sit down.

     I immediately look on my phone for a nutrition sheet for Starbucks. I have a 250 calorie limit today. I know we're going to dinner later, so I should save a couple of calories for when I have to pretend to eat dinner. Classic oatmeal is only 160 calories, and if I only eat half, that's 80 calories.

     "I'm eating half of a classic oatmeal serving," I reply.

     "At least you're eating something," Sarah mutters under her breath.

     "Good. I'm getting this spinach and feta wrap. I heard it's really good," Pressley states.

     "Samesies!" Sarah squeals, and I cringe at the loudness.

     "I don't know what I'm getting yet," Brady shrugs and we see a blue minivan pull up.

     "That's our Uber," Ms. Michelle reports, and we all approach the vehicle.

     Once Ms. Ashley confirms everything, I get in the car. I choose the farthest one away from the driver, in a corner seat. There isn't a window, just darkness, Sarah, Brady, and my phone.

      I sit in complete silence. None of us want to upset the driver of the vehicle by talking. It's too early back in America to text anybody. It's midnight in Los Angeles, and it's three in the morning in Pittsburgh, North Carolina, and the Virgin Islands.

     I like the silence. I'm too depleted of energy. I mean, I did have some SunChips, but I guess oatmeal will also help. I know that I should be eating more, but of course, my eating disorder tells me no. And I'm grateful that it keeps me in check.

     Unfortunately, the silence lasts four minutes because soon we're at Starbucks. We all thank the Uber driver. I go inside and the smell of baked goods hits my noises, making disgusted chills rack through my body. The oatmeal has too many calories, Lilliana. You can only eat half or else you're never going to be skinny.

     I don't get how everybody is getting pastries and wraps and coffee when we're performing in leotards in a couple of hours. I get my oatmeal and my ice water and sit down with the rest of it. I guess mine also comes with nuts and raisins, which I hope are accounted for in the 160 calories.

     I split my oat soup down the middle and only eat half of it, very slowly. 80 calories for breakfast, and none of the adults notice. One meal completed. All of the other kids don't give me any pity as we walk back to the car. But honestly, I'd rather have pity than food.

     "We have to go back to the hotel to go to the venue. It's in the hotel," Ms. Michelle says, ordering another Uber.

     "This is the most amount of times I've ridden Ubers in a week in my life," Mom complains, and I giggle a bit.

     "We don't have any rental cars. That would've been wise, though," Ms. Tricia agrees.

     I stand in silence away from the other people. I lean against a pole that leads to a lamppost, getting a dizzy spell. I feel like I'm going to pass out. I grip onto the pole, my knuckles turning white.

     Everything starts spinning. I can't pass out here. I look at the stone wall right in front of me. The stones blend through each other and create one gray matter, no mortar involved in building the wall.

     "Lilly! The uber is here! And it's the same guy!" Sarah shouts, and everything stops spinning.

     I stumble to the blue minivan and crawl back to my spot in complete darkness. It's only four minutes to recuperate, but my mind blocks out all the noise. A headache begins to form, probably from all the dizziness. It's torture dancing with a headache. You shouldn't take any more medicine, Lilliana. You're lucky that the medicine you take already doesn't count towards your calorie count.