Alfred F. Jones. What the F stood for was anyone's guess. It could've stood for Franklin or fucker, nobody would've cared. It wasn't the name that made him special.
Alfred walked down the hallway. He passed by a couple of guys from the team whom he greeted with his signature bro-hugs before going to his locker where he dumped the returned papers—all marked with perfect scores in bright red ink.
With a record only blemished by a few B's and as the captain of his high school's football team, Alfred F. Jones was the perfect student, but best of all (or worst of all, depending on who's looking at him) he was the perfect "ideal" American teenager.
He entered the cafeteria, winking at two freshmen, a boy who obviously wore makeup and a girl who looked like a young Ingrid Bergman. Both flashed him their best smiles before turning their backs to giggle.
Bright eyes and all smiles, he was every girl's dream and every guy's rival. That's what he was supposed to be, what everyone wanted him to be, so that was the kind of person he pretended to be. Every day.
Alfred thanked the lunch lady for the meal: an apple, a PB and J sandwich and a carton of milk, and then went to his usual spot. It was no crime to assume that his spot was with the other elites of the school, like the school government president or his teammates, but Alfred didn't really have a clique. He was friendly and he had good friends, but he never really connected with people in a more intimate level outside of sports or school. He usually ate alone outside under the principal's beloved willow tree.
That tree was perfect, it provided him shade and it was far enough from the school building for him to have some peace and quiet, even if just for a moment.
He sat down and began eating. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
A moment's peace, he thought to himself. Lunch time had its ups and downs. Its ups included the tree and the time he had away from stress, they were limited but he treasured them. The downs, on the other hand...
Alfred returned the tray to the cafeteria. He waved goodbye to the vice president whose lunch break just started.
Alfred silently walked. He didn't need attention on him now.
The big man on campus hid one very, very important part of him from the public's eye.
A secret he didn't need anyone to find out about. Alfred F. Jones, academic athlete and the All-American pride of Blackwater Academy, was bulimic.
*Bulimia AKA bulimia nervosa is a type of eating disorder by which a person has a low self-esteem and the compulsive need to lose weight (by throwing up their food, abstaining from eating eating or drinking, exercising excessively, etc.)