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320 pages, Paperback
First published February 28, 2017
“You couldn’t explain to Alex why being at social events with food made you anxious. How you couldn’t really eat much of anything, and how thinking about food made you sick sometimes, and how even, if you were in the wrong frame of mind, watching other people eat a hamburger could make your own stomach churn.
You hate the girls your own age, except for Jae. They’re mostly high-pitched girls who only care about how many Instagram likes they have or how many Twitter retweets they get and you wonder what makes them so popular. Most days you wonder what it would be like if the universe were different.
But Jae, Jae means the world to you. She’s nothing like the girls at school who live and breathe by how many likes they get on Instagram.
"You kneel on your bed and and emit a little girlie squeal and then want to shove it back into your mouth, because you sound like one of those stupid girls. You don’t want to be a stupid girl."
At Majestic Mini-Golf, Ben pays for the eighteen-hole course, then grabs two putters. He chooses an orange ball and you choose a green one.
“I thought you would have picked a pink or yellow ball,” he says.
“Why?” you ask.
“I don’t know. Maybe that’s what I expect girls to do, pick girlie colors, but you’re different. I should have known better. That you’d pick the unexpected color.”
"Well, green is my favorite color, so I wanted the green one," you say.
"Aren't you feisty tonight," Ben says, laughing.
“Oh! Get this! Ben said he’ll watch The Fault in Our Stars with me sometime.”
“The Fault in Our Stars, really?” Jae asks.
“He says he wants to see it.”
“What guy wants to watch Fault in Our Stars?��� Jae says.
“I know,” you say.
“Wow.”
“Favorite flower?”
“Definitely white carnations.”
“Not red roses?”
“So cliché.”
As you wait, you busy yourself checking out the latest from the infamous Instagrammers. Yep, they’re still there, posting selfies in sports bras and Nike workout shorts, looking slutty as usual. You wonder if their moms have any clue about the pictures they post and the comments they get.
The staffer has a name tag that says DAMIAN and you can’t help but think of some devil-worship guy because of his name.
"He’s the only one who seems to keep the monster at a lull."
“What kind of sandwich is that?” you ask him.
“It’s turkey with cheese.”
“I wonder what would happen if I took a bite.”
He lifts his eyebrows. “I thought you were a vegetarian?”
“Self-imposed,” you say. You both laugh.
He hands you the sandwich and you look at it, and then take a bite. It’s a small bite, mostly bread, but there’s definitely some turkey and cheese in your mouth.
You chew.
You consider.
You try very hard not to think about what’s in your mouth because if your brain and your mouth work too hard together then you know you’ll gag.
You swallow quickly.
It tastes like … it tastes like nothing.
You are certain that the monster didn’t really exist. He was everything around you, surrounding you. He was anxiety. He was depression. He was your brother. He was your parents when they were aggravating you. He was how you felt when you were hungry, or angry, or sad. He was the food that was keeping you from living your lfie this whole time. You unconsciously created the monster, someone else to blame, because you didn’t want to take on the responsibilities of fixing what was broken.
The monster was never real.
“I’m ready,” you tell Shayna. “I’m going to take the responsibility to get well, and not blame something else for my problems.”
Of course, you’ll need Shayna’s help, and with time, patience, and determination, you’ll succeed. You’re sure of it...