The "You're Not Fat" Campaign

I used to play soccer.

I loved it so much. I wish I hadn't quit, it was a huge mistake.

The only reason I quit was because my eighth grade coach was horrible and we lost every single game and she made me think I was atrocious at soccer.

I was actually pretty good, looking back. But that coach was such a bitch.

I juggle the beat-up soccer ball between my knees, counting how many times I can bounce it up in the air. So far I've gotten seventeen. Not bad.

"Hey Laura?" someone says behind me. I rainbow the ball over my head and turn around, catching the ball as I do so. Naomi is standing there, looking uncomfortable and awkward.

"Oh, hey, Naomi," I say. She smiles a little.

"Pass the ball?" she asks. I nod and juggle the soccer ball a few more times, then kick it to her. We pass it back and forth for a little while, showing off our mad soccer skills. I teach her how to rainbow the ball over her head, and we practice that. We take a water break, then sit down in the grass and relax a bit. Naomi takes a deep breath.

"Um, so, can I talk to you about something?" she says quietly. I nod.

"Last night... During If You Really Knew Me... you said your friend had an eating disorder. And that you did too," she murmurs, staring at her hands, which are folded on her lap.

"Yeah," I say.

"Are you... getting help?" she asks hesitantly.

"Do you mean am I in treatment? I wouldn't be here if I was in treatment, would I?" I tell her humorlessly.

"I guess not. But... Um, I think... I think you should maybe tell someone. And get help. Because I didn't and it didn't end well." Her voice is soft, but every word she says hits home. I am thrown back in time to the day I talked to Cassie.

"Hi," Cassie says from her desk. She closes her English book and swivels her chair around to face me.

Holy Jesus, look at those collarbones. They're practically popping out of her skin. And her eyes are sunken into her face and her skin is horribly pale. She looks like she's dying. How did I not see this? How could I not have noticed?

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" she asks. Her voice is flat. I can't think properly. How did this happen? How could I have let this happen?

"Cassie..." I whisper. "Are you okay?" Her blank expression turns to one of fear and pain, but only for a moment. Then it returns to blankness.

"Yes," she says shortly.

"Are you sure?" I press. Her eyes narrow and she stands up. Rick is right. Cassie is a skeleton.

"Fuck off, Laura. It's none of your business, okay? IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" she yells. Her voice is thin and reedy, but her words pierce me like knives, right into my heart.

"Cassie, please, listen," I begin, but she interrupts me.

"No, Laura, YOU listen! You have no idea what you're talking about. No idea! You, with your huge thighs and massive stomach and floppy arms, you're just jealous of me. Because I'M gonna be beautiful! And you're not even close! You're fat, Laura! You're fat and stupid and ugly and I hate you! Get out of my room, and get out of my house, and get out of my life! Get out! Get out! GET OUT!"

I shudder at the memory. That was what really started it all for me. When my best friend told me how fat and huge and disgusting I was. And then everything snowballed.

Naomi doesn't even know me that well, and she's putting herself in the position that I was in just a few months ago. She is putting a lot on the line for me and that means so much.

"If it gets worse I will," I whisper.

"It almost always gets worse. Please don't wait until you're starving to death. Okay?"