Playing with Forever

Chapter 38: Ill

I didn't feel well at practice the next day. I felt nauseous, but there was nothing in my stomach to throw up. I was sweating more than normal, and while we were doing sprints, my head started spinning. Sound started to get muffled, and my vision first started swimming, then dimming. The edges were darkening, as if I was going down a tunnel. 

I was passing out, I realized. I dropped down on the ground before I could fully faint and fall without control, possibly hurting myself.

"Abby?" Mina asked, rushing over to me. Coach Dunlap was close behind her.

"Just a little dizzy," I muttered, waiting for the faint to pass.

"Come sit down over here," Coach said. "Are you okay to stand?"

My senses weren't fully back to me yet, but I nodded because I didn't want to seem weak. They helped haul me up and over to the mats against the wall, out of the way of the team still doing drills.

"I'm okay," I lied. "I think I'm just dehydrated."

Mina ran off, coming back quickly with a water bottle. She handed it to me with worry, and I took it with a dim smile and sipped at it. I didn't want to down the water on an empty stomach and make my nausea worse, but I did drink it.

Coach forbade me from doing any practice that afternoon, even when I insisted that I felt better. It was a lie, but I didn't want to seem sickly and have to sit out. She released me to go change with the team in the locker room, but she met up with me before I could leave.

Coach Dunlap came over, looking irritated. I was nearly falling asleep at my locker with exhaustion.

"You've got to thicken up, Shea," she commanded sternly when there was no one nearby to overhear us.

I winced. "Yeah."

"You're sick, Abby. You're going to kill yourself if you don't get some meat on your bones."

She'd seen through my lie about dehydration, then. I looked down at my shoes. It wasn't as easy as she made it seem. I couldn't just stuff my face with food every day—it would make things worse.

I wondered if she thought I had an eating disorder. I wondered if maybe I did. I didn't make myself vomit, or restrict my calories purposefully. I wasn't trying to get thin. I ate the way I did because I couldn't change. I hated that I was scrawny and thin. I wanted to gain weight.

"If you lose anymore," she continued, rubbing her face tiredly. "Abby, I'm going to have to kick you off the team. It's not healthy."

"I understand. I'll keep working on it."

I was agitated the whole way home, and even with the kids and Sam later that evening. When we made dinner, I stared at the food, trying to make myself eat it.

Just do it, I told myself firmly. Put it in your mouth, chew, and swallow. That's all you have to do.

JUST DO IT!

And yet still I resisted, tears in my eyes and a pit in my stomach. Why was it so hard?

The next day wasn't much better. I was exhausted, but not on the edge of fainting, which was good.  After collecting Nate and returning home, I went to greet my cat. Sam and Paula hadn't joined us that day: Paula had a doctor checkup appointment. She didn't need it, obviously, but the school required an annual doctor visit, so Sam had taken her.

Lizzie Bennett was usually splayed out on either the futon or her towel on the floor, but that afternoon she wasn't. Odd.

I looked around the house, but she wasn't anywhere to be found. I checked closets and cupboards, but she wasn't there. Stumped, I finally went back to my room—I hadn't checked under the futon.