Boys Don't Cry

Chapter eleven

I wake up to me phone buzzing, it's my dad. I push myself up off of Jacob's bedroom floor and answer. "Hello?"

Where are you? He sounds worried.

I'm at a friends house. Why?

Every ones looking for you, everyone back home.

That place isn't my home. But Okay, I'll go home. Jesus.

I didn't mean to snap at him. I hang up and grab my jacket. As I put it on, the fabric catches the new needle marks, I wince. I soon I have it on and I'm walking down the street. I check the time. 09:28. Jesus it's early. I reach the all too familiar iron gates and I press the buzzer. Nicole answers and lets me in. I ignore everyone and go straight to the shower, putting on new clothes I lie on my bed. I take out my phone and text Hayley.

Last night was fun. Sorry I had to leave this morning, I love you x

I check the numerous missed calls from last night, 16 from Ben, 8 from Lauren and 23 from my Dad. Oops. Looks like we have a winner. There's a knock at the door and Lauren walks in.

"Can you come to the office please, Michael." I was kind of expecting this to be honest. I make my way to the office and see a room full, with Lauren, Ben, Katherine and my Father all sitting down, with concerned looks on their faces. I sit down expecting a lecture. Katherine talks first.

"Michael, we're concerned. You're dad saw you last night with an older boy and alcohol. You missed your curfew again and you've lost a significant amount of weight." Fuck. They've noticed. Fuck fuck fuck. Lie. I have to lie.

"Have I?" I say, acting oblivious. "I admit the alcohol. So I drink. Big deal, a lot of teenagers do." It's me against all of them. There's a knock at the door, it's Nicole

"Doctor Peters is here." Doctor? Huh? Who's sick? She walks out and a talk blonde haired guy walks in. He introduced himself as Doctor Peters and sits down. He looks at me.

"You must be Michael." He holds out his hand and smiles.

"What's that to you?" I say, not taking his hand. Is he here for me? Katherine looks at me sympathetically and begin to talk.

"We've asked Dr Peters to come and make sure you're ok. That there's not a serious reason for the weight loss."

"I'm fine. Leave me alone." I don't need a doctor. You'd think they'd congratulate me on not being fat.

I look at my dad. He smiles. Why is he agreeing with them.

"Would you come with me to the medical room so I can ask you some questions?" He asks standing up.

"No." Is all I say. I not going with him.

"I don't need a doctor."

"Okay, well why don't you come with me an we can have a chat?" There's no winning this battle. I get up and follow him to the medical room. We get In to the sterile smelling room. And he closes the door. He tells me to take a seat and I do so. We go over some simple questions such as; how am I? Do I feel tired or dizzy?; how many times a day do I eat?, which I said two but I know that's a lie. Next he asks a question that frightened me. Can I take my clothes off and stand on the scales? Nope. No I cannot.

"Can I keep my clothes on?" He shakes his head. They might interfere with the weighing apparently. I take my shoes and socks off. Slowly un buttoning my jeans I turn around. I don't want to take them off. I go to step on the scales but the doctor stops me.

"Come on, slip you're clothes off. You can put them on again in a minute or so." I do as he says and quickly stand on the scales. The doctor seems un phased by my scarred, emaciated body. I look at him, with a some sort of sorry look on my face. Why am I sorry?

The scales adjust and tell me i weight 101 pounds

Fat I think.

I want to put my clothes back on. But the doctor tells me he wants to measure my height. I stand against the device on the walk and he pulls it down. 5ft 10 inches. I pull my clothes back on and walk immediately to my room. Avoiding everyone. I wonder how long it will take for the questions to come.