Marianne by Elizabeth Hammer (best books to read in life TXT) 📕

Excellent. That got things going. She knelt down on the mint green bath mat and leaned over the toilet. She jammed the toothbrush to the back of her throat, and she had it.

She puked once.

She spit out all the gnarly stuff in her mouth and kept going. This wasn’t nearly as hard as she thought it would be. Marianne worked with firm purpose and upchucked every last bite of food that she could. She tried to judge the volume of what she’d gotten rid of against what she remembered eating and stopped when she figured that she was about even. She stood up and flushed it. She rinsed her toothbrush and scrubbed her teeth again. Her face was all blotchy, her eyes were watering like crazy, and her throat hurt—but she felt good.

All the videos in high school health class about eating disorders had made purging seem so uncontrollable and mysterious. This was not that. This was… positively calculating. Apparently, a person could use the same tricks as the psychos without being one of them—talk about an unfair trade secret. And just like that, Marianne had a new trick.

A new, evil trick that nagged at her as she tried to fall asleep that night in her cutsie canopy bed. She didn’t have an eating disorder, so did that make what she’d done even worse than if she did have one? Did it make her a poser as well as an idiot? Whatever, no one had to know. It wasn’t like she was going to start telling people. And it wasn’t like she was going to do it again. Sure, that’s what all people say about dangerous stuff when they’re in denial, but Marianne wasn’t in denial. Her thinking was clear. Clearer than Danielle’s sliding glass door that broke the necks of unsuspecting birds on a regular basis.

4

Discomfort Zone

The next day was pure hell because there were no classes on Mondays. Marianne usually spent her free time with Danielle or Sally, but she didn’t want to see either of them. She wanted to forget about Patrick, and she wanted to forget about the too-small Goth dress. Embarrassed, crash-dieting, and alone. It was a sweet weekend.

The rest of the week was mildly better. She hadn’t been forced to see any more of Patrick than his truck parked on the street, and she was slowly notching down the scale. Marianne hadn’t chucked up anything all week, of course, but she wasn’t really eating, either. It was odd—she just didn’t want to anymore. Because of that, she had lost four pounds in one week. Four pounds! It was totally unhealthy and totally awesome at the same time.

The next Saturday, Sally noticed Marianne’s weight loss. Marianne was at cosmetology school with her and had just walked back to their stations from the bathroom where Sally was busy yanking the snarls out of the doll head she was working on. Everyone in school had these life-sized plastic heads with long hair and scary makeup that they had to practice cuts and color on. When most students were working, they looked like little girls playing with toys, but with Sally, it looked more like a horror movie. A witch with some decapitated head.

“You need new pants,” said Sally, looking up at her. “Those are too big for you. Your backside looks deflated.”

“Ah, thanks,” said Marianne. “I’m going to get some new stuff today, in fact.”

“Oh, that’s rad!” Sally was exceedingly passionate about clothes. “I’ve got this really cute new fabric that we could sew into—”

“No,” said Marianne. “I’m only getting pre-fabricated mainstream stuff. Nothing morbid.”

“Morbid?” Sally laughed and then reached over and caressed Marianne’s cheek. “You are so adorable. I love it when you show what an ill-mannered bigot you are.”

Marianne leaned toward her and raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, did Miss Sneering Subculture just call me an ill-mannered bigot?”

Sally smiled at her, perfectly unruffled. “I never sneer—I try to embrace everything. And that includes all styles of clothing.”

“Yeah right. Aren’t you the one who gave me that mourning dress last week?”

“You want me to sew you one in pink?”

“Pink?” Marianne gaped at her. “Now I know you’re lying.”

Sally looked almost offended. “I can do normal.”

“Sally! You cover your ears at the word normal as if it were the Black Speech of Mordor.”

“Dare me.”

“Maybe next time.” Marianne cleared her throat. “Anyway, I don’t feel like crafting anything today. I’m just gonna buy some jeans and stuff.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Sally, focusing on her doll head again. “We wouldn’t want you looking different from everyone else.”

“Exactly. So, did you want to go with me to Wet Seal, or not?”

“Not.”

Marianne was glad. She didn’t like going clothes shopping with people. They always stood outside the dressing room, ready to stare and judge. She’d rather pass. “We’ve got some personal service time now,” said Marianne, changing the subject. “You want me to touch up your color?”

“No. I’m fine just the way I am,” said Sally with cheesy emphasis. “What about you? I had a few ideas...”

“Seriously, again?” Marianne was getting annoyed. She spoke slowly so that Sally wouldn’t miss any words. “I don’t want to look like a vampire, Sally.”

“I would never make you do anything,” Sally said. “And that includes wearing the black dress. It wouldn’t be genuine if it made you uncomfortable.”

Marianne opened her mouth to describe exactly how uncomfortable black hair would make her, when she realized that, actually, the idea had merit. She’d been getting bored with her brown and blond hair lately, and for some reason, she was feeling reckless this week.

“Okay, fine. I give in,” said Marianne. “Have your evil way with me.”

Five minutes later, when Marianne saw the cloudy bottle of black dye that Sally held over her head, she got a little nervous. Marianne wasn’t certain she’d be able to pull it off, but she resolved not to complain about it, no matter how it turned out. The price of recklessness.

After