Skinny by Laura L Smith Page B

the car.
    “Lindsey said Todd wants you to see a doctor.” Mom bit her top lip but kept her gaze straight ahead, maneuvering out of the parking lot. “What’s going on, Mel? How long haven’t you been feeling well?”
    Melissa wasn’t sure which was worse, riding home with Mom or being banished from practice by Todd. She didn’t have the words to explain to Mom what was going on. She didn’t know how long it had been going on. Was it when Beau broke up with her? Was it before? Was it him or the eating or her grades? Was it captain tryouts or trying to act to her friends like none of it really mattered when all of it really did matter? It mattered a lot.
    “It’s nothing, really. I just fell, whatever,” Melissa started to choke out, but instead of more words, sobs started from somewhere in her hollow stomach, racked her rib cage, and poured uncontrollably from her mouth and eyes.
    “It’s okay, sweetie.” Mom took Melissa’s hand in hers. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”
    Once home, Melissa bolted to her room, turned on her music, and buried herself in pillows. She cried and cried until she didn’t have the energy to cry anymore. Glancing at the clock, she realized she was usually still in practice at this time. She definitely didn’t feel like studying. She wasn’t ready to face Mom. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready for that. She felt splotchy and smeary and achy all over. Her cheeks stung from the saltwater of her tears. Her eyes burned from her melted mascara.
    She nibbled on her ring finger’s nail, stood up, and changed the music from melancholy Rickie Lee Jones to melodic Sting, then meandered into the bathroom. She moved slowly, as if someone had pushed the frame-by-frame button on a remote control. Melissa turned on the shower. All of the thoughts swirling around her head disappeared in the soothing heat. The beads of water washed away her overwhelming sadness, leaving her numb. She felt like a robot drying off and dressing in fleece sweats. Melissa plopped on her bed and looked at her clock again. She had no direction, no purpose.
    Picking up a magazine and flipping through a few pages, her gaze went right through the words and pictures. She put the magazine back next to her Bible.
    “Of course,” Melissa whispered. She picked up the heavy book. The smooth leather cover felt familiar and comforting in her hands. She flipped to the index and slid her finger up and down the topics until she found food. She turned to one of the passages.
    At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.
    The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried. In hell, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side. So he called to him, “Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.”
    But Abraham replied, “Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony.” (Luke 16:20-25)
    Melissa hastily grabbed the pen with purple ink from her nightstand and wrote in her journal:
    The rich man in Jesus’ story lives in eternal anguish after eating rich feasts, but the poor starving Lazarus, longing for even scraps, goes to heaven. This must say something about pigging out on cake and popcorn. God wants me to eat meekly, so I can be meek. Right?
    Melissa scribbled, finally feeling like she had heard an answer from God. She was so relieved to find Scripture that compared people who ate a lot to those who didn’t. She was so worked up in what she thought the Bible said, she didn’t take time to finish reading the passage. She knew she should pray about this, to make sure God was