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.”Is he serious? Like, a date? What if he doesn’t show up, or gives me the wrong address, or—I feel the phone in my hand.I hear their voices in my headTaunting me.Teasing.“Tap once for yes.Twice for—”I snap the phone closed.What would you like for dinner?Is that all you’re going to eat?Do you want to see a movie?What are you working on?How are you feeling, Daelyn?Are you fitting in at school?How do you like your classes?Have you made any friends?Is your medication working?Are you having thoughts of suicide?Do you know we love you?What are you writing now?You know we trust you, right?Did you take your medication?Are you getting enough sleep?Why don’t you have more laundry?Where’s your neck brace?Why does your bedroom seem empty?Are you still on that computer?Who will guide you to the light?How will you be remembered?Does this look like a lump to you?Will you come to my birthday party?Do you understand demand?What is economics?Have you increased your happiness quotient?Where’s your jewelry box?Will you sing for me?What are you reading now?Is Santana dying?How could a boy be lonely?Am I throwing you off-key?What does he see in me?Will you be my friend?What’s that in your bag?Where are you going, Daelyn?What are you thinking, Daelyn?Why are you crying, Daelyn?I don’t have to answer.Until you know the question.— 5 DAYS —I decide to come clean, to tell all of it.I log on to Through-the-Light and link to Bullied.“Fat camp was this place in Arizona, in the desert.It might’ve been an old military base.There were supposed to be fun activities like horseback riding and swimming and crafts.That was in the brochure Mom gave me.Dad looked at it with me and said it looked great; Mom said she loved going to Girl Scout camp.That should’ve tipped me off.She said, ‘It’ll be fantastic.You’ll come back slim and healthy.’”I admit, I was semi-excited.“The whole time I was there, I never saw a horse.The pool was this dried-up sinkhole, and the counselors were college students or dropouts.They’d majored in sadism.”I figured that out fast.They’d graduated with honors from bully boot camp.“As soon as our parents left us, the torture began.We had to line up for our first weigh-in.They had this industrial scale with a huge round dial and a counselor with a bullhorn who broadcast your name to everyone.”So humiliating.J_Doe060787 writes: I f*ing hate the military.They screwed me royal.Could you listen?“People stripped off as much as possible.Shoes and socks.Guys took off their shirts.One girl even stripped to her bra.We had to stand in single file.Girls and guys together.There was no talking, no goofing around.Weigh-ins were no joking matter.”Not then.Not now.“People weighed like 195, 211, 250.When my turn came, I was sweating so bad I slipped on the steps and bruised my knee.They didn’t care.My name rang out all over the world, so everyone knew I was at fat camp.”Like anyone cared where I was, or who I was.J_Doe060787 again: I f*ing hate my boss.He rags on me for everything.I f*ing hate my job.Then quit, I think.“‘Get on the scale,’ this counselor ordered.‘Turn around.’ You had to watch the dial so you could see for yourself how disgustingly fat you were.“176.That was my first weight.The counselor measured my height.She wrote down, ‘Grossly obese.’“It was like she’d shouted it to the world: YOU ARE GROSS.“As I was heading off the stage, this girl who’d finished ahead of me turned and said between her teeth, ‘At least I’m not as fat as you.’”That became the camp motto.At least I’m not as fat as you.The counselors were all fit and trim, of course.The models of perfection we would never be.Another J_Doe pops up, but I don’t read the entry.It’s long, and it’s about him.“We had exercises morning, noon, and night.We had to do calisthenics.Jumping jacks and sit-ups.StairMaster.Treadmill.Before we could even have breakfast, we had to run [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]