"Throw to second!" Elijah yells.
I get ahold of the ball, and throw it towards second. Lucas catches it, striking out the opposing team.
Well, I can't really say opposing team since they're technically our players. But, it's just a thing we do. Divide our baseball team here at Southview into two teams so we can practice.
"Austin! Your team's on offense now!" Coach yells. I gather my team and head back to the dugout. Elijah is up to bat this round.
I stand, gripping the metal dugout wires to watch how Elijah does.
Baseball has been the only thing keeping my mind off this situation. With season starting up, we've been training extra hard, so my mind is all in the game...mostly.
Elijah hits the ball toward right field, managing to make it to first base.
"Isaiah, your up." I tell.
We play like this for another 20 minutes. My team is in the lead of course. The team with the Captain usually has the advantage.
When I'm out on the field either playing defense or batting, it seems to help. But when I'm sitting in the dugout, my mind is nowhere on baseball.
I hope she's okay.
I know she's not, but I need her to admit it to me. I'm making assumptions, but I can't help it. All the signs are there, she just needs to tell me, so I can help her. I will help her.
And god, she was burning up like crazy. As soon as I'm out of this practice, the minute that bell rings, I'm going to her. She can push me away all she wants, but the least I can do is make sure she's okay.
Coach runs up to me while i'm on deck to bat.
"Something wrong?" I ask.
"You got called down to the nurses office." He explains. The nurse? I don't think I've stepped foot in the nurses office.
"Uh alright. Elijah, you ok to lead?"
He nods, and I quickly put my things together before running inside to the locker room. I push my cleats into my locker, and switch them for a regular pair of shoes. I also put on some deodorant, because I've been running around, and sweating.
I'm still in my practice clothes, trying to get to the nurses as soon as possible. My gray baseball pants and white top are kind of weird school attire, but I don't care. I need to know why the hell I was called.
The nurses office is located near the counselors office, and when I walk there, Aaliyah and Fallon are standing outside.
"What's going on?" I question.
"Oh thank god you're here! Dahlia passed out while we were running the track and—"
"What?" I interrupt.
"Sorry uh let me backtrack. We were getting changed beforehand and we tried talking to her like we planned, but she told us to leave it alone. She didn't look too good, and we both noticed it," Fallon starts.
"We went outside and were told to run, but Dahlia really couldn't. I mean we had started our second lap and she was barely a third the way into her first." Aaliyah continues.
"She didn't seem too good, so we slowed down with her. But then she started saying our names, and we couldn't really hear. And then we did, and she mumbled something about how she hadn't eaten, and she passed out."
Shit. I'm so fucking stupid.
I bring my hand to my forehead. I am so so stupid. I should've helped her, this wouldn't have happened.
"Did she ask for me?"
"Well uh, no. But she won't talk to us, and the nurse needs some insight." Aaliyah says.
"Why in the hell do you think she would talk to me? She hates me." I sigh.
"Blake, she can say she hates you all she wants. But, we all know she's head over heels for you. She could use some help right now." Fallon consoles.
I wouldn't have thought she just had much adoration for me as I felt for her. And even if she doesn't, isn't it worth something to try?
"Ok, I'll try." I mutter.
I quietly open the door to the nurses office. There's a few people sitting in chairs waiting to talk with the nurse. I can't see her anywhere.
"Excuse me?" I whisper.
The nurse looks up from her computer to me. "Can I help you?" She asks.
"Yes, uh, I was looking for Dahlia Martinez?"
"Ah, yes, she's in that back room over there. Please let me know if you can get anything out of her." She says.
I nod slightly, anxious to walk to the room.
When I creak open the door, all I see is her. She's laying on one of those doctor office beds that you needed a stool to get up on.
Her hand is on her forehead, and her eyes are closed. I know she isn't sleeping though, because her face is in pain.
I once facetimed her and she fell asleep. She looked peaceful.
"Please go away guys, I don't want to talk about it." She whimpers.
Her voice is barely anything. I want to break down and cry at the sound of her pain.
"It's me." I admit. Her eyes open, but she stays staring at the ceiling.
I don't know if I should go towards her or stay where I'm standing.
A few tears fall from her eyes, and that's my deal breaker. I go towards her, aching for her.
She shakes her head. "Go away."
"I can't." I respond.
"Yes you can, just go."
"I don't want to."
Finally, she tears her eyes away from the ceiling, looking at me. Her face is pale, eyes more dull than normal.
I'm sure my face is contorted in some sad expression, it has to be. My Dahlia feels terrible, and all I want to do is take her pain away. She starts crying even harder. I don't know if it's because she really wants me to leave, or if she's thinking about something else.
"Why can't you just go away?" She begs.
"I. Don't. Want. To."
"Well I don't want you in here."
"Why not!"
"You know why! Can you please be quiet? You're hurting my head." She looks back at the ceiling, hand still over her forehead.
I walk towards her, embracing her in the best hug I can while she lays there. She's sobbing quietly in my arms, probably getting my shirt wet. Do I care though? Not at all.
"Tell me it's not what I think it is Dahlia."
She goes still in my arms. "I don't know what you're talking about."
We pull away from each other, and I sit her up. She uses my shoulders to balance herself, still keeping her eyes closed.
"Will you look at me?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "It hurts my head when I open my eyes."
I sigh, dropping my head to look at the floor. "Tell me, please."
"I can't," She whispers.
Her eyes flutter open, but barely. She's merely squinting to look at me.
"Why not?" I reply.
She wraps her arms around my neck, pulling herself close to my ear.
"Because if I tell you it means I have to stop."
My arms can't help but to wrap around her waist, pulling us the closest we've ever been. Our secrets bind us together, they are now out in the open.
"How long?" I ask
"Since what."
"You've been doing this."
She pulls away from me, laying back down and facing the wall.
"Don't do that. Don't pretend we're not talking about this." I demand.
"I'm not pretending. I don't want to talk."
"Answer my question. We need to help you."
"2 years." She's crying more now.
My mouth is nearly on the floor. 2 years. She hasn't even told me for sure what's she's doing, but I think it's obvious.
"For 2 years, what have you been doing?" I need her to say it.
Sobs are trying to be held in by her. "I don't want to tell you."
"For 2 years, Dahlia, what have you been doing?" I press.
She moves so she is facing the ceiling, her arms clutched to her chest. "I've been starving myself for 2 years."
I walk over to grab her once more. I hug her like I will never hug her again. She's crying so hard that any moment now I will start crying too. This beautiful loving girl, has been starving herself, and I don't know what to do. Words cannot explain my confusion.
Her face is still warm, and I'll have to ask the nurse to take her temperature.
"When did you last eat, darling?"
She can't stop crying, and I'm nervous for her answer. "4 days ago." She says, words broken up by sobs.
Fuck. This isn't the place for her to explain everything to me, I need to take her home.
"I'm going to get the nurse, and then I'm going to take you home, ok?"
"No. I don't want to go with you."
"Darling, I'm begging you here. Let me take care of you. Let's explain everything to each other. Please, come with me." I whisper.
The nurse walks through the door, gesturing me to follow her out the door. "Were you able to figure out what's wrong?"
I nod. "We need a pass to leave. She's sick."
There isn't any way I'm telling her what's wrong. That's Dahlia's business only.
She's a little on the edge about giving me a pass to leave with her, but in the end she does. I knock on the door before going back in. She's sitting up still, her head in her hands.
"I got us a pass to leave, and the nurse said she's going to call your mom."
"Don't. Don't call her, she's not going to be able to leave work and she'll feel bad about it."
I sigh, and softly open the door to tell the nurse not to call Andrea.
It takes a couple seconds, but I carry Dahlia off the bed. Her head is still hurting, so I'm trying to go slow. My hands grip her waist to keep her stable, and she does the same to my shoulders.
When we're finally both standing, she wraps an arm around my neck. I grab her hand, and use the other to hold her waist. Before leaving, I grab her bag that Aaliyah and Fallon dropped off and hold it below my waist.
My backpack and baseball bag are still in the locker room. I'll have to ask Elijah to pick them up and drop it at my house.
"Slow down." She mumbles. Shit, I've been thinking too much I forgot to go slow. "Sorry."
We're barely outside the nurses office when we have to stop so she can balance herself. I can feel her forehead against me, and it's still burning. I need to get her home fast.
"Are you ok now?" I mutter. I'm being as quiet as possible for her headache. She shakes her head, "My body feels weak."
I can only imagine. My hand moves from her waist to her legs, picking her up in a bridal like style, except there's also a bag in one of my hands. Her hand goes to her forehead, probably because of the headache. But maybe this way she won't feel so tired.
We continue walking out towards my car. She continuously whispers for me to not drop her, and even if I wanted to, I couldn't. She feels too good in my arms.
I sit her down in the passenger seat, reclining it back so she can lie down. "Is this ok?" I question. She only nods.
As quietly as possible, I shut the door and walk to the drivers side. Her eyes stay shut the entire drive to the store.
I get out the car and walk over to her side, opening the door. I place a gentle kiss on her forehead, "I'll be back, okay?" I say.
"What are you getting?" She asks.
"Just some things for you."
I shut the door and walk into the CVS. Trying not to leave her for too long, I quickly grab a can of chicken soup, crackers, and a gatorade. That's what usually helps me, and she needs to eat something. I still can't wrap my head around it. I also grab some Advil for the headache, and pay before running out.
She's practically asleep when I make it to her house. I swing her backpack over my shoulder, grab the CVS bag, and then pick her up to walk inside. Her brothers will be getting here soon, but I'm not sure what to do.
Dahlia does practically everything while her mom is gone, but there is no way in hell I'm letting her do that right now.
I walk her to her room, and lay her on her bed.
"I'm going to make you some soup." I tell.
"No, please don't. I've made it this long." She begs. My heart aches for her.
"You need to eat, darling. I'll be back."
The kitchen has a small oven, and I use it to make her soup. The crackers and gatorade have always been given to me by my mom when I'm not feeling well, so I pray she takes them.
Once done, I grab a plastic bowl I find in one of the cabinets and put the soup in. I also put the gatorade into a cup I find, and walk to her room. She's changed into shorts, I'm assuming because she's hot.
I place the plate of food on her bedside table, and she stares at it in disgust. I sigh at her reaction, and grab a spoonful of soup.
"I'm not eating that."
"You have to."
"No, I don't." She shrugs slightly and lays down on her side facing away from me.
Carefully, I grab her waist to sit her up. She puts her hand on her head, and I feel like shit.
"Shit, I didn't mean to do that." I plead.
"Blake, why won't you just leave me alone? I'm fine, this will be worth it." She explains.
"In what way will this be worth it?" If I could be granted one wish, it would be to see inside this girls mind.
"Imagine how much prettier I'll be, Blake."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You're smart, use your context clues."
She tries to lay back down again, but my grip on her waist is too tight. I don't know why, but she starts crying again. What do I do?
"Fuck, crying hurts my head." She mutters.
"Eat some soup Dahlia, please."
"This is exactly why I should have never told you, you should have never pushed me to tell you." She's trying to be mad, but it's hard when her voice is quiet.
"I would've done this a million times if it meant you were healthy. You cant do this to yourself, you need to eat."
"You just don't get it." She grabs my hands to push them away, but there is no way I'm letting that happen. I grab the spoon again, gradually putting it towards her.
Reluctantly, she takes the bite, and immediately breaks into a sob.
"What happened?" I pull her into my embrace.
Her words are choked out in sobs. "I'm disgusting, you keep proving that."
"You are not disgusting. Please, tell me what I've done to make you feel that way."
"You feed me. I'm disgusting. You buy me things I can't afford. I'm disgusting. You go with other girls after telling me I was the only one you want. I'm disgusting. Just let me not eat, let me be better."
No. No, god no. There is no way I can let her think this anymore. No way she can think starving herself will make her better.
I slowly grab her to sit her up, and I move so that I am under her and she is in my lap. I hug her from behind, my face getting lost in her curls. She's trying so hard not to cry, but it's painfully obvious she is. I never want to see her cry again.
"Our first priority right now is getting you some nutrition. How about we discuss things while you eat? Will that help?" I suggest.
"Fine." She mumbles, her response short.
She lays her head casually against my chest, our feet entangle. Trying not to let this position affect me, I grab the bowl of soup, and wrap my arms around her to place it in her lap.
"Do you want to eat it on your own, or should I help you?" I'm not sure how to act so she feels better, so I'm praying what I'm saying is ok.
With a shrug she responds, "I don't think I'll even touch the spoon if I eat on my own."
"So you want me to help?"
She nods, and I pick up a spoonful and feed it to her. Tears fall every time I do this, but she eats it, and that's a step in the right direction. I think.
"You're doing good, darling." I whisper.
She's eaten a couple crackers too, but I think it might've been too much, so I didn't force her.
The bowl of soup is finished, and she drinks a little bit of gatorade before she goes still in my arms. "Do you want to talk?" I ask.
"You first."
I inhale and exhale a couple of times, trying to prepare what I want to say.
"There's a few things I want to say to you. And I'll start with the fact that Hannah and I haven't hung out in 2 years. We used to date, and that's what she meant by 'again' in that message. There is no other girl but you," I start.
"And secondly, you are not disgusting. You are the most amazing person I've met, and every time I learn something new about you, it amazes me even more. Giving your body what it needs does not make you disgusting, it makes you strong."
She nods, and I brush her curls to side, placing soft kisses against her neck.
"I'm sorry." She says.
"For what?" I respond.
"Not letting you explain."
My kisses move to her jawline, until I get to her ear and whisper, "I'll always find a way to fix things with you."
We sit like this for a while, not talking. I kiss her everywhere I am able, and play with her hair. She draws her fingers up and down my legs, tracing random patterns.
Randomly, she shoots up, hitting my head. "Ouch." I tease.
"Jake and Emerson, they'll be here soon! You need to go. Oh god I haven't even gotten anything out to cook." She wiggles out of my arms, and her warmth is gone.
I stand up with her to catch her, because she is very clearly not well.
"Don't worry about that right now. I'll order pizza or something, and you can rest. You probably have a fever, which reminds me do you have a thermometer?"
"No, it's my job to take care of them."
"But I want to take care of you. And taking care of you implied taking care of them, so I'm happy to do what I can. Now please, lay down and let me check your temperature."
She does that cute little pout she does, and lays down on her bed. I cant help laughing at this, because she is the cutest thing ever.
"I'm going to order the pizza, and then we'll continue our conversation, sound good?"
"Whatever. I think my mom has a safe 20 in the kitchen, you can use that."
I laugh. "You're funny." Pulling out my phone, I order 2 large pizzas and a soda. Not long after the order is placed, Jake and Emerson come barging through the door.
They come to a halt when they see me. "Blake?" Jake's eyes widen.
"Hi guys." I wave.
Their mouths twist into frowns, I'm not sure why. "What's wrong?" I ask.
"We haven't seen you since Monday. Dahlia said you couldn't pick us up anymore."
"I know, I'm sorry. There was a problem, but it's been fixed." I explain.
"Where's Dahlia?" Emerson adds.
"Um, she's sick right now but—"
"She's sick?" They both say.
"Yes, so she needs to rest. But Im here, I'll take care of you guys." I console.
"Really?" Emerson asks.
"Really. I ordered you guys pizza, but I don't know what else you guys do. I have to take care of Dahlia, so are you guys ok for a few minutes?"
They nod, and run off to what I'm assuming is the garage. Dahlia told me there was a thermometer in the kitchen in the third drawer, so I grab that and a cold glass of water before going back to her room.
I knock before going in, and she's sitting up, waiting for me. God, I could get used to that. I place the glass next to her.
"Open." I tell, placing the thermometer near her mouth.
"That's oddly sexual." She points out before opening her mouth.
I laugh at her comment. She's a little out of it right now.
The thermometer reads 100.2. A low fever. She drinks some of the water, and pats the spot next to her. I follow orders, and sit.
"Are you ready to talk?" I say.
"Mmm, I don't know." She shrugs.
"Ok, let me know when you decide."
We sit staring at the wall in front of us for a couple seconds before she speaks again.
"I'm ready."
"Go ahead."
She takes a couple breaths before she starts explaining. "When I started high school in Louisiana, I didn't have any friends. I was okay with it, because I was really only there to learn,
"But then I started getting bullied. People called me fat, ugly, and—"
"I'm gonna need names." I interrupt.
"Why?" She questions.
"I would like to know the names of people I beat up." I shrug.
That gets her to laugh, but then she takes more deep breaths. "I've never been this bad. I used to only not eat for 16 hours, then eat a small snack, and then restart the timer. I figured if I made myself skinnier, wore makeup, they would like me."
"Did they?"
She sighs, "No. I just became more tired, and pissed off. Junior year was the worst. Halfway through a new girl came to school, and she hated me for some reason. I had to finish the rest of the year online because people literally started pushing me and yelling at me in halls. And then I moved here to get away from it, and I just never stopped doing what I did. I didn't want to live through it again, so I've been doing my best to make myself better."
I want to protect her forever. She didn't deserve that, and if I ever come into contact with the people who made her feel that way, I might end up in jail.
I climb over so that I'm hovering over her, making sure not to place a lot of my weight on her. She widens her eyes at our new position, and I push a couple curls out of her face.
"You are just...I have no words to describe how wrong you are about yourself. I understand it must've been hard to stop doing it, especially when people said those things to you. But they're wrong. I've never met anyone more gorgeous, intelligent, or hardworking than you. Anyone who said those things was completely jealous of you, who wouldn't be? Even through all the bad things you've lived through, you continue to take care of everyone. Darling, you can't keep doing this to your body,"
"No, I have to keep going."
"No, you can't. It's unhealthy, and I know a lot of people including myself would like you to stay healthy. It's going to be hard I'm sure, but every inch of your body is beautiful. You need to eat to keep yourself alive. I promise Dahlia, I'll keep you safe from the words of anyone who may hurt you."
"How can you want me to do that? Don't you look at me and just feel...disgusted? I have stretch marks, fat, cellulite, weird frizzy hair, and I'm sure there's other girls out there who would be a lot better in many ways than me."
She does her best to stand up, and walks to the full body mirror. She pulls up the bottom of her hoodie a bit, and she starts crying looking at herself while putting her hands around her stomach. I stand to join her, as she moves her hands over her thighs.
I tower over her, but I lower myself to the crook of her neck and look at her in the mirror. She keeps her eyes on herself, and every time she sees something new, she cries more.
"Beautiful." I say, replacing her hands with my own. They roam all the places she had just touched. Her stomach, thighs, and everywhere else. She finally looks at me through the mirror, my hands pause at her waist.
"Your body is beautiful. You are beautiful. The stretch marks, fat, cellulite, it's natural and gorgeous. And don't even call your hair weird and frizzy, because I love it so much. Anytime I'm near you all I want to do is run my fingers through it. I could stare into your eyes forever. Your nose is the cutest, especially when you scrunch it while your thinking. And God, those lips will be the death of me. I would kiss them forever if possible. Can't you see? I'm obsessed with everything about you. If there's anything I'm disgusted by, it's you not thinking you're good enough. Because you are. You are more than enough, and everyday I thank any god out there for letting me meet you. Dahlia Martinez, you are amazing, and thinking anything otherwise would be a crime."
There's a knock at the front door, and we don't move. Only look outside her door. Our eyes meet back at the mirror, but she shrugs herself out of my arms and back into her bed. I'm hurt to say the least. For her and me. I'm hurt for me as my words aren't helping. I'm hurt for her because she really doesn't understand.
I drop my shoulders, and speak quietly. "I'll go help them." I walk out of her room, quietly shutting the door.
I feel terrible for her. Terrible for all the things that have happened to her, and all that she has to go through. Continuing to help her will be easy, because I know she deserves it. But can I continue to show my affection, kiss her, tell her how much I adore her, if she really doesn't feel the same? I thought she did, but I'm not so sure anymore.
Dahlia deserves my help. She deserves love. I can give her the first, but I can't keep forcing her to want the second.
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