Thy thindom come and thyne will be done.
The mirror showed bulges that hadn't been there in the morning when she changed into her formal blue school uniform this morning. Her beanpole legs reaching up to the canopee of the wrapover navy skirt, her thighs the same girth as her calves, another feature she was envied for, but couldn't see what all the fuss was about. "You're fat," the voice in her head said. "You ate too much at lunch time. You shouldn't have eaten that biscuit."
"Dinner" Came the call to follow her name, the delay caused by her mother setting the table.
"Dinner? No thank you very much." Said one voice, but another little voice co-habiting her head said "food....eat....now....you need it....you'll die unless you eat"
Torn between the two, the final yell of her name up the staircase drove her to the evil that she had hidden from since lunchtime. Reluctantly, she pulled her straggled hair back off her face, she should get it cut, her face would look thinner then. The stairs were an obstical course of kids toys. Her brothers could be heard down in the lounge, squabling over the remote control for the television. The cartoons were starting again and Tweedledum and Tweedledee sat egg shaped on the sofa, their podgy smiles salavating from their chins.
She thought of how her day had gone as she slumped down in her usual chair at the dinner table, next to where her father would sit once he'd finished washing his hands. Her mother was now calling the boys in for tea. In their baggy jogging trousers and sweatshirts, they tumbled into the kitchen. Mrs Moulton had said her essay on Napoleon was good, Tina and her had had a squalble because Tina had told Melissa about Leilah's crush on Jason. Jason had smiled at her in Chemistry and in Maths she could have sworn that his eyes were on her because she could feel her ears burning and her neck tingling and Mr Johnson the Religious Studies Teacher had given them a lecture on sex before marriage in the Christian faith. Thank goodness she wasn't Christian.
Her mother served up the usual oven ready food that turned up on the table each night. Tonight it was chicken in breadcrums with chips and as a vegetable, because they are so good for you, a can of corn had been heated in the microwave, killing off any vitamins it could possibly have contained in the first place. But it was food, and the chips did look awfully greasy, despite the fact that they were a very dark gold, from being in the oven much longer than the recommended cooking time. The food stared back at Leilah, as she regarded it with a hint of distrust. She wasn't really hungry. It didn't really appeal to her. A wiff of odour caught her nostril and she suddenly felt nausiated.
Holding her breath to try not to inhale any more of the putrid smell that became more and more obvious the more she thought of it, she faked a smile at her mother who was asking if anyone wanted ketchup. Her brother's plate, next to her, now smelt strongly of the artificial tomato flavour. She grasped her hand over her face and pushed back the chair she sat on with the backs of her knees. Looking madly and panickingly around the room, at everyones face, they were all staring at her. They all thought she was fat, she could see it in their eyes. The chair had toppled over backwards onto the linolium kitchen floor, the dark tiles reflecting her sillohet.
She ran. She couldn't remember running that fast ever before, not even for the 500 meter race at school in her tight bottle green gym knickers and white aertex shirt. The bathroom was just down the dingy corridor, just another meter and she'd be there. Holding her stomach with one hand and her other covering her mouth to ensure nothing could escape. The door was slightly ajar, and the evening sun lit the tiny room completely. The light bounced off the white tiles on the walls, on the floor, dazzling her. She could see her goal. Punching the door open and thereby releasing her mouth, she found a flood of food she hadn't realised she'd eaten springing out. The bitter taste burned in her mouth. Tears reached their waterfall as she saw she hadn't reached her goal and that there was a splat of semi digested food in a myriad of colours, lying dead, but hot on the floor.
Wipping her face of the tears proved to be a bigger difficulty than she had anticipated. By rubbing her face she had smeared the gunge she had just spewed, dribbles of it hung in suspense from her chin. She'd never done that before. She'd always reached her goal in the past. Just last week for instance, she'd managed to rid herself of the large hamburger and chips she had been forced to finish by her mother. It would have been alright if she hadn't eaten all the baked beans. Now she just sat there pathetic and empty, but that was how she wanted to be. Maybe now someone would take some notice of her.
