That Summer

When Evangeline got home that day, she was glad that no one was there to see her.
Her face was red with silenced anger and frustration. She wasted no time in heading straight to her room and throwing her dance bag to the floor. Evangeline paced her room for a good twenty minutes, quietly muttering obscenities under her breath before she decided to take a shower in order to cool down.

By the time Evangeline exited the bathroom, she could hear her brother in his room with a few other people. She made her way in to her bedroom quietly, towel wrapped tightly around her body.

Upon entrance, she looked around it slowly. Her room was clean, immaculate, just like everything else in Evangeline's life was. Pink and white were the only real colors in the room and everything was fresh and light. Evangeline felt to out of place among all of it.

Evangeline moved slowly, lethargic. She put her dirty clothes in the hamper in her closet, she folded up her dance bag and stowed away her toe shoes in her closet where she usually kept them. Still in her towel, and still dripping wet, Evangeline sat herself on the floor in front of her stereo. She placed a CD in and set a single song to repeat.

They've clipped my wings again
Tore them apart and then
Left me.

Evangeline curled into a ball on the floor and lay, emotionless, as she let the song float over her.

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Bryan was sitting on his bed with Martin beside him and Paul on his computer chair. They'd fallen into a momentary silence when they heard a song coming from his sister's room directly beside his. Martin let out a long sigh and shook his head.

"For fuck's sake. What is that shit?" he groaned.
"Katy Rose. Evangeline loves her," Bryan shrugged.
"Well that song has been playing over and over for the passed hour," Martin whined. "Doesn't your sister own any other music?"
"Probably not," his friend laughed with a shake of his head.

No use to fly away
To my yesterday
Of freedom.

"That song is so emo," Martin shook his head.
"Says the guy who wrote Learning To Fall," Paul muttered.
"Well that sounded defensive," Bryan commented softly.
"I'm just saying," Paul shrugged. "Maybe she's in a bad mood."
"What does she have to be upset about? She lost her Pointy shoes?"
"Pointe shoes," Bryan corrected.
"Whatever."
"Just because she turned you down doesn't give you the right to hate her so much," Paul shot at Martin.
"And just because you're madly in love with her even though she hates your guts doesn't give you the right to make her the victim all the time," Martin shot back.
"Guys," Bryan cut in. "Stop fighting over my sister. It's creepy."

Paul and Martin both rolled their eyes, obviously still angry with each other but willing to forget it. For the time being.

The boys were still sitting in silence and the song from Evangeline's room was on its billionth rotation when Mrs. Donahue called them down for dinner and asked that they bring Evangeline with them.

"Hey, Evangeline?" Bryan called, knocking on his sister's door. It took a moment before the song lowered to a normal volume and she called back a soft 'what?' "It's time for dinner."
There was another extended silence before she responded, "I'm not hungry."
"Are you sure?" he furrowed his eyebrows.
"I don't feel well."
"Alright," he responded slowly, exchanging shrugs with Martin.

Bryan and Martin started down to the dining room immediately. Paul, however, stayed back a moment and stared at the door. The song turned back up and he grew more worried.

The flowers in the graveyard are all gone
I don't belong

And the uncomfortable gnawing in Paul's stomach returned as he headed down the stairs.

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Evangeline had been laying on her carpet, absolutely motionless, for four hours. Her skin and hair had dried but the damp towel remained around her naked body.

She sat up slowly and pushed her un-brushed hair from her eyes, letting out a soft sigh.
The sounds of the rest of the Donahues and whatever friends Bryan had over floated up to her room at the end and beginning of the song when the music became quieter. Evangeline didn't want to go down to dinner. She didn't need to add any more fuel to Anna's fire.

Evangeline rose from the floor slowly and made her way to her door, crossing the hall and entering the bathroom, towel still wrapped loosely around her.

She shut the door behind her and let the towel drop, looking in the full length mirror that hung on the back of the door. Evangeline nearly looked away from the site that met her eyes.
Where there used to be no imperfections on Evangeline's body, there now sat faults. She had a small pouch on her stomach that she had never before experienced. Her face looked too round, her eyes seemingly shrunken in her skull. Her arms were too heavy and her thighs looked like they could use a serious slim-down session.

Evangeline was disgusted with herself, with what she'd let herself become.

She pressed her palm to her stomach, splaying out her fingers and watching as they all made deep imprints on her skin. She pressed so hard that she knew she had left a bruise, and only when the image of herself in the mirror became blurry with unfallen tears, did she relieve the pressure on her abdomen.

Evangeline stared at herself; at the pouch on her stomach, at her round face and her small eyes, at her heavy arms, at the red handprint on her skin with tears streaming down her face. Suddenly, she could feel food in her body. She felt the breakfast bar from that morning, and the salmon from the night before and the mealoaf from last week. She could feel everything she'd ever eaten in her stomach, weighing down her whole body. And she was sick with the knowledge of all that in her, suddenly disgusted, and she knew that she needed that out of her, now.

All of it, it had to be gone. It felt like it was infecting her. Ruining her. Making her fat.
Evangeline wasn't really thinking as she knelt in front of the toilet and grasped the toothbrush in her hand. The handle clanked against her teeth. Her tears splashed into the toilet water. The smell of dried toothpaste on the bristles nauseated her further and she prayed that her hand would stop shaking so bad.

She gagged once, twice, three, four, five times. Nothing came up with any of the tries. And then she thought of what Anna had told her, of the laughs and giggles that erupted from the other dancers. And then she thought of what Martin had said that day two weeks ago.

"Go stick a toothbrush down your throat and puke up this morning's breakfast."

Martin had thought she was fat. Even before all this had happened, she had been ugly and imperfect. Evangeline needed to reach that perfection. She was Evangeline Donahue. And Evangeline Donahue was nothing less than ideal.

The sixth attempt was the charm, and Evangeline watched as her breakfast came back up to greet her. She looked at it, realizing that had been in her. All those calories and carbohydrates and fats.

She flushed the toilet and curled back up in a ball on her bathroom floor, the cold tile uncomfortable beneath her skin and shaking body. Laughter floated up from the dining room below but it was quickly drowned out by the song coming from Evangeline's room.

So hurting here is where I belong