Six Weeks Before Tryouts

Kendall sighed as she stepped off the scale.  Looking in the mirror, she placed her hands on either side of her waist and squeezed the slim section of flesh between her fingers. Then she turned to the right for a side view, patting the small bulge in her belly.

She hadn’t menstruated in two months—just some spotting here and there—but that wasn’t her main concern. I still have time, she determined. Six more weeks.  I’ll be rid of it by then.

Josh had recently teased her about her belly pooch, saying it gave him more to love, but she could tell the comment was disingenuous. She saw how he eyed the other girls on the squad.  Especially Brittany, the new girl from Palm Beach. Lithe, willowy, agile—that’s what they called her—attributes that Kendall would die for.

It wasn’t her fault that she inherited her father’s muscular build. Her strong and athletic frame had made her a sports star, but she wished to be more like her mother, the petite, small-town beauty queen. People made comparisons; she could see it by the way they glanced from her mother to her, a smirk on their lips or a slight raising of the eyebrow.

Kendall never had a problem making the cheerleading team because of her endurance and ability to rally the crowd. She was particularly known for her energetic tumbling skills and could be relied on as a base for the basket tosses or the three-level pyramids. But because she was sturdy, Kendall was always on the bottom. Only the small, light girls got to stand on the shoulders of the male cheerleaders, including Josh’s.   This year will be different, Kendall decided. This year I’ll be on top, lifted to the sky, twisting, and flipping mid-air, landing safely in the arms of Josh and my teammates.

Five Weeks Before Tryouts

“Hey Kendall,” said Samantha, as she opened her gym locker.  “How about meeting the gang at Steven’s?  Josh is there,” she teased, winking at her friend. “I could go for a strawberry ice cream soda right now. Couldn’t you?”

The girls were perspiring from cheer practice, and Steven’s Ice Cream Parlor was a regular after-school hangout for the athletes at Piedmont High.

“Um, I don’t know, Sam,” Kendall responded vaguely, her eyes catching her profile in the gym mirror. She reflexively pulled in her stomach and stood up straighter. “I’m not hungry right now.” Taking a long swig from her water bottle, she avoided Samantha’s puzzled look.

“What’s with you, girl,” Samantha inquired, approaching her friend.  “Are you okay?  You and Josh aren’t having problems, are you?”

“No, Sam, I just don’t want to fill up on all that sugar and fat. Do you know how many calories are in one soda?  It makes me want to throw up.”  Kendall took out her book bag and closed her locker.

“Kendall, we just burned like 800 calories on the field today!  You don’t have to worry…”

“Listen, Sam,” Kendall cut her off.  “I’m trying to lose.  Plus, I’ve got lots of homework. And that big English test at the end of the week.”

“Geez, Kendall.  You’re a straight-A student.  Number one in the class.  They don’t call you Miss Perfection for nothing. I mean, have you ever gotten less than an A minus?”

“No, and I don’t plan on breaking that record.  Say ‘Hi’ to the gang for me, okay?”  Kendall smiled weakly at Samantha, then turned back to her locker, willing her friend to leave.  When it appeared that Kendall wasn’t going to change her mind, Samantha took off.

Kendall waited a few minutes until after Samantha left the locker room, then slipped into her jogging shorts and ran three miles around the track.

Four Weeks Before Tryouts

After Kendall had rearranged the food on her dinner plate for the third time and still had not taken a bite, her father cleared his throat.  “Are you going to play with it or eat it, Kendall? Mom made your favorite—steak, mashed potatoes, veggies.  Usually, you’d have scoffed it down by now.  What gives?”

“Nothing. I’m just feeling a bit nauseous, is all. I might go lie down in a bit.”

“You do look a bit pale,” her father commented reaching over to squeeze her arm.  “Hope you’re not coming down with anything.”

“Oh, leave her alone, Phil. She’s just nervous about tryouts.” Even though Kendall’s mother had not yet finished her meal, she placed her fork and knife across her plate and got up to pour herself a cup of coffee. “And losing a pound or two isn’t going to hurt her.  Those uniforms show every bulge.”

Kendall felt her stomach tighten and a thickness in her throat as she followed her mother’s slim hips to the kitchen. Picking up a string bean, she examined it before popping it in her mouth. “Yeah,” she said with a touch of sarcasm. “It’s probably just nerves.” She chewed the legume slowly before finally swallowing it.

“Our daughter doesn’t need to worry, Lori,” her father said as he buttered a piece of bread.  “She’s tough and sturdy, the mainstay of the team.”

Kendall knew her father was trying to be supportive, but in her mind, “tough” and “sturdy” translated to “chunky” and “stocky.” She stabbed a small piece of steak that hadn’t touched the mashed potatoes and let it hover near her mouth before putting the fork back down and pushing her plate away.

Back in her room, Kendall looked up how many grams of fat and carbohydrates were in a typical steak and potato dinner. When she saw the calorie count, she decided to cut them out entirely. I’ll just eat vegetables from now on. Before getting into bed, she did a hundred crunches, then took some laxatives to clean out her bowels in the morning.

Three Weeks Before Tryouts

“Kendall, you’re looking a bit pale and lethargic these days.  Is everything okay?”  Ms. O’Keefe, the cheer coach was working on a new choreography and testing it out with last year’s squad. She pulled Kendall aside and put her arm around her shoulders. “I need my spirit girl and best tumbler to be in top form this year. With some of the new talent—especially Brittany—I’m hoping we get to compete in the State competition this year. And with you as captain of the team.”

“Captain. Wow. That would be awesome,” Kendall said tepidly. Normally she would have been honored to be named captain but hearing Brittany’s name associated with the word “talent” had robbed the compliment of its luster.  She swallowed and looked at her feet.  “Look, coach, I thought I had memorized the routine, but some of the moves are pretty complex, and …”

“Yes, well, complex is what wins State championships, kiddo.  So, get back out there and concentrate.”

The coach was already turning to address another girl when Kendall interrupted. “Um, Ms. O’Keefe?  I was thinking of trying out for the flyer position this year. I’ve never been thrown or stood on top of the pyramid. It’s always something I’ve dreamed about.”

“Oh, Kendall, you’ve been so reliable in the base position.  With those strong legs and arms.  Why change now?”

“I’ve lost a few pounds this summer, so I’ll be easier to catch.  Look.”  Using her thumbs, Kendall stretched the elastic part of her practice shorts out to show how much extra room she had.  The tiniest bulge was still evident at her belly, but you could see her hip bones on either side.

Ms. O’Keefe looked at Kendall with concern for several seconds and sighed. “I’m willing to let you try out for any position you want, but the flyer requires a unique set of skills and perfect timing.  You can’t miss a beat.” The coach put her hand on Kendall’s shoulder and added softly, “You’re a beautiful girl, Kendall, you always have been.  I know you may want this, but don’t…I mean, I’ve known girls who…well, let’s just say, they went overboard with the workouts.  Sabotaged their health, their relationships, their futures…”

Kendall nodded as if she understood, but in her mind, she dismissed Ms. O’Keefe’s comments. She could handle this. She had so far. She will be the top girl, whatever it takes.  Josh and the other boys will see me differently now. I just have to lose a little more and get my abs flat and tight. Ten, maybe fifteen more pounds. I can do it. I still have three weeks.

Two Weeks Before Tryouts

“Did I do something wrong, Kendall?”  Josh was standing next to Kendall’s locker, his arm around her waist, trying to pull her toward him.  As much as she was tempted to lean into his warm body, she held back.  Instead, she turned her head, giving him a small smile.

“No, I’ve just been busy, Josh. You know, with tests, homework, and tryouts right around the corner…”

“You seem different, is all,” Josh said, trying to make eye contact. “Withdrawn. Remote. Not my usual kick-ass Kendall.”  He grabbed her this time around the waist with both arms and pulled her in for a kiss, then suddenly held back.

“Kendall, are you okay?  I can feel your ribs under your blouse. What gives? Are you trying to make the emaciated modeling team?” He tried to sound lighthearted, but the sudden absence of excess flesh had left him cold.

“I’ve been trying to lose weight, Josh, for tryouts. I’m going for flyer and can’t have any extra baggage.”

“Fine, but you look…” he searched for the right word, a word that would make his point but not alienate her. “I don’t know…frail, washed out.” He put his hands through her long hair. “Why even your hair has lost its bounce.”

“How could you be so cruel, Josh?” Kendall said near tears. “I did this for us. But it’s my body, Josh. It’s something I have to do.”

“What are you talking about, Kendall?”  Suddenly he looked at her with alarm.  “Wait, you’re not…No way.  I mean, we were careful.  It was just that once.  You can’t be…”

“You just don’t get it, do you, Josh?   Now leave me alone.”  And with that, Kendall swung her bookbag over her shoulder and ran out the door.

One Week Before Tryouts

“Kendall, I’m taking you to see the doctor. Something’s not right, and you can’t keep hiding it. You’ve been sick way too long. And not one box of tampons has been opened in the closet.  I just hope you’re not …well, I saw this happen with your Aunt Claire.”

Kendall had locked herself in the bathroom, and her mother was talking to her from the other side of the door. “God, Mom, leave me alone. I’m not like Aunt Claire.” She knew her mother was referring to her younger sister, who was saddled with six kids by four different men.

“It’s that boy, Josh, isn’t it?  Taking advantage. I know his type. And you’re so trusting, naïve.”

“Mother! Go away. I’m fine.”

“Fine?  You haven’t eaten a thing since yesterday.  Maybe a piece of celery, some carrots.  You need to eat to keep up your strength. Especially if you’re…” Her mother didn’t want to say the word, because if she did, then it might be true.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me lose weight!”  Kendall yelled at the door. “Now leave me alone.”

“Don’t change the subject, Kendall. You know what I’m talking about.” For a while, nobody spoke, and Kendall assumed her mother had gone back downstairs. But then she heard her say, in a quieter but firmer voice, “I’m calling Dr. Henry, Kendall.  My OB/GYN. I’ll try to get an appointment next week.”

“I have tryouts next week!  And I don’t need to see your doctor.”

“If you are what I think you are, then you can’t wait.  We need to do something sooner rather than later.  You have a bright future in front of you.  Don’t mess it up.”

When Kendall finally heard her mother’s footsteps on the stairs, she pulled out the scale and stood on it naked. The number was lower than it had ever been, but she still wasn’t satisfied.  She still felt fat and bloated.  Just a week more.  And then it will all be gone. It’s time to pull out all the stops.

Day of Tryouts

When Kendall’s parents arrived at the hospital, Ms. O’Keefe was waiting for them outside the emergency entrance, a distraught look on her face.

“We left as soon as we got your call,” Kendall’s father said.  “What happened?  Did she break something in practice?”

“No…I don’t think so. She got dizzy and passed out in the middle of the basket toss. She kept saying she wanted to fly and be on top.  I tried to talk her out of it, given her pallor and low energy. But she insisted. Luckily, the spotter caught her before she hit the ground.”

“Basket toss?  Since when is Kendall being thrown?  She’s a master tumbler, the girl who can do back handsprings across the court.  Not a flyer.”  Kendall’s father had been to enough cheer competitions to know the various roles in cheerleading.  He also knew where his daughter excelled.

“Yes, that is her strength,” Ms. O’Keefe agreed. “But she was determined to be on top this year.  It was like she had something to prove, a goal she was after. But I saw the signs…every year or two, one of the girls—generally a smart and accomplished girl like Kendall—takes it too far.  I should have listened to my instincts. I’m sorry.”

Kendall’s mother was quiet. She had her suspicions about what caused the blackout, but she didn’t want to ruin her daughter’s reputation. They would handle it quietly.

“No need to apologize, Ms. O’Keefe,” Kendall’s father said, trying to calm the coach, who dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “You did the right thing, calling the EMTs, getting her here.  Let’s keep our fingers crossed that nothing is broken.  Please feel free to go.  We will let you know what the doctor says and when Kendall can return to practice.

When the physician finally came out, Kendall’s parents barraged him with questions.  Did she fracture a leg or arm?  Why would she pass out?  Is she pregnant? When will she be released?  Will she get out in time to compete for the squad?

The doctor held up his hands to stop them and shook his head. “First of all,” he said slowly, “your daughter is not pregnant. Her body is struggling to support her own life, much less of a child.”

At first, Kendall’s Mom placed a hand against her heart and sighed with relief at the news that her daughter was not with child. But when she saw the doctor’s serious expression, her pulse quickened. “What is it then, doctor? What’s wrong?”

Your daughter has severely impaired her immune system, and some of her organs have started to shut down. Now, we will do all we can here to treat the physical problems, but this isn’t a problem that’s solved overnight. It runs much deeper.

“Deeper?  What are you saying, Doc?”

“Kendall needs to go to a special facility, a psychiatric facility with therapists specially trained in body dysmorphia, anorexia.”

“Body what? Anorexia? No way. No daughter of mine needs to see a shrink!” Kendall’s father shouted, then lowered his voice, realizing there were people in the waiting room looking at them. “Cut out the medical mumbo-jumbo and tell us what is wrong in plain English.”

The doctor had backed up a step, waiting for Kendall’s parents to calm down. Then he said, “Kendall needs serious help. Despite being dangerously underweight and malnourished, despite almost starving herself to death, your daughter is convinced that she is still too fat.”