Wildfires

When I got home,
I found the note my parents left me.
We noticed you weren’t home
And went to eat breakfast.
You missed curfew.
There will be a family meeting
After dinner tonight.

I tore the paper into separate halves,
Tossed it in the trash can,
And went upstairs to the bathroom.

I haven’t weighed myself in months,
And as I stared at the scale
I couldn’t breathe,
I couldn’t speak,
I couldn’t move.
But I had to do it
Because Ana was the only friend I had.

Ana was the only one who cared.

I mustered enough courage
To step on the scale
With my clasped hands shaking
As well as my heart beating erratically.

I looked down and
Gasped in horror at the number
Staring back at me in neon green.
98. 98. 98.
Ninety-eight pounds of failure.

As I curl up in bed with
The curtains drawn closed
And my eyes following suit,
Ana’s voice soothes me at last.

Aren’t you glad we’re friends?
We need each other, Iris.
We’re going to take the world by storm.
One day.
We will.