The "You're Not Fat" Campaign

The next day there is a new girl at breakfast.

She has thin mousy brown hair and shadoweyes and pokeyout collarbones and she narrows her eyes at me when she sees me.

Then her pale lips curve into a small smile and she pats the chair next to her.

"My name's Tessa," she says.

"I'm Laura," I reply.

Tessa is skinnyskinny like Meg. I am sofatsofatsofat next to her.

The blue scrubs nurse named Margaret hands us our trays and I open mine.

Burnt soggy brown toast, squishy green melon, lukewarm orange juice, and a muffin that smells like garlic. I sigh and poke at the melon. My stomach is so empty that I do not even feel it. Eating would be a mistake. Eating now would cause more problems.

Next to me, Tessa is staring down at her tray (globs of oatmeal, cold pancakes dripping with artificial maple syrup, a fruit cup, soggy eggs) with horror in her eyes.

"I can't eat this," she says loudly. Everyone looks at her. I take advantage of the distraction to break up the garlic-scented blueberry muffin into little crumbs. Of course I'm eating why wouldn't I be. I mash up the melon and sniff the orange juice. It smells so good drinking it would be like drinking acid it would kill you maybe that's what I want drinking it will make you fat I wasn't going to drink it anyways good good.

"Then don't," says black hoodie girl. "They'll keep you here longer." I still don't know black hoodie girl's name.

"I hate breakfast," Tessa says. She glances at me. Our shadoweyes meet.

And then I know.

I'm not alone in here.

She's friends with Ana too.