ENVY

Envy. The little green monster. Green, the color of lettuce. The only thing I eat anymore. I was always jealous of his body. Always. How can you be friends with the boy who seemed to be so skinny without any effort? He was rail thin. He was coveted. He was wanted.

And all I ever wanted were those things. I just wanted everything he had.

Unfortunately the only thing I picked up from him was an eating disorder. I know someone can't give you bulimia, but they can sure hurry the process along. He whispered to me how he skipped meals, and I witnessed him leaving the bathroom after meals, smelling of acid. Cigarettes kill urges. I learned all the tips from him. Drink water. Don't buy food. Work out. Avoid meals. I learned from the best. He who does not want to recover.

Let me tell you a secret though, I don't either.

I will never be thin enough. I tell myself at the start that when I lose ten pounds I will be happy. So in two weeks I lose ten pounds. No big deal. I just followed the guru. But guess what? I felt hollow. Only ten pounds, that's nothing. It wasn't even ten percent of my body weight. It was nothing. I looked the same. I felt the same. The only difference is I went down a pants size. I couldn't see it though. I still felt like the same girl as when I started.

But now I was a failure. Now I wasn't good enough. Now food seemed sinful. I always thought about becoming an extremist religion where the people beat themselves so I could get away with cutting and scratching without being wrong. It seemed like a perfect fit. But now with the starving, how would I explain that? Lent. For Lent (which I don't really celebrate) I will give up food. Beat that you pious bastard. So what you gave up caffeine or liquor? I'm giving up food. For forty days.

But Lent isn't year around, and even my thin friend eats occasionally. But somewhere, in the sick reaches of my mind, I want win. I want to be the thinnest. Little miss perfect with the sharp collar bones.

I don't want recovery. I want thin.

Prince

Girls painted like princess danced across the floor. Their dresses swept the ground, fluttering up and down in a breeze of graceful movements.

One girl sat, left ankle tucked behind her right, with her back to the pristine floral wallpaper. She watched the others waltz around, heels sliding them into their boys arms.

Lucy was alone.

Prince Charming had decided not to show, so this perfect prom star had been stood up. Her pink cupcake of a dress seemed to deflate as she waited for her date in vain.

Strands of hair from her up-do began to fall out of place, finding their way into her eyes. She blew the streaks of blonde out of her face through puckered lips. The music moaned in the background about being together forever. Girls sunk into their partners, letting the boys whisper sweet nothings in their ears.

When Lucy sighed the breath rearranged the loose hair. She fought back tears wishing her date would magically appear.

Facing the facts, she had been stood up.

She shifted a bit in her seat, letting her oversized dress fall around her. Sighing, she stood up and made her way to the punch, which she hoped was spiked.

She skated across the floor, dodging couples nuzzled close to each other. Her white shoes stood out against the polished wooden floor when they peaked out from under her dress.

THe punch was a ruby red and clean to Lucy's disappointment. She sipped the drink as the music changed into an upbeat pop song. The mob of students broke away from their tight embraces and began hopping to a teenage anthem.

Suddenly a boy clad in a black tuxedo materialized from the crowd. He ladled out a cup of punch and stood next to Lucy.

"You alone?" His smile was soft.

"I guess so." She stared at his black shoes. His left shoe was untied, but she decided to keep that to herself.

"What a shame, such a pretty girl, all by herself." He smiled wider.

"Well thank you."

"Who are you little lady?"

"Lucy. Why haven't I seen you at school?"

"I, uh, just transfered in. I'm Tom."

"Well, nice to meet you." Lucy tucked a flyway hair behind her ear.

The next teenage power ballad came on and Tom offered a shaky hand to Lucy. When she took it, he lead her into the middle of the crowd.

After a few awkward moments, she let herself sink into him. They swayed as the singer pined about his love interest of the week. Tom wasn't the best dancer, as he was frequently stepping on Lucy's toes, but he was better than drinking punch alone.

The thin straps of her dress were slowly down her shoulders. Tom gently pushed one further down.

"Stop it!" Lucy fiercely whispered. Despite her protests he continued. By the time the dress was only being held up by her chest, she pushed him away.

"I said stop it." She used the back of her white heel to step on his foot. Then she stormed off back to the punch bowl, fixing her straps as she crossed the ballroom floor.

Many students looked at Tom, but the teachers remained oblivious. Lucy quickly left the dance and started her car.

She was ready for this nightmare of a prom to be over.