Author's Note: I could not stay away! So I'm starting a new story combining all six and ironing out all the kinks. I am adding new chapters, new points of view and this is told from the point of view of a character but I'm not telling who because you have to guess although it should be obvious! I am going to have to cut these stories in half and make them shorter. So this will just be the 70's...so let's begin!

The Six.

The Co-dependent.

The co-dependent six.

There's a store in Manhattan, right by NYU. It's called Six of One.

It had begun simply as me trying to find a perfect outfit for my thirtieth birthday and evolved into a conversation about friendship and how certain friends just change you and force you to become better or more than you ever thought you could. I began telling about my own group of friends and soon became engrossed in stories about The Infamous Six, the reason the store is called Six of One. Rachel began spilling stories from the ten years spent as being part of this magnificent group and soon I began to think how there might be a story.

"We're six halves of one whole. Six very different people with six different stories and we made one, wonderful, complete picture. We're six of one."

That's how she got the name. Six of One opened over a decade earlier as The Six were beginning to expand, when they began to form families and a ten-year chapter was coming to an end. They're now all separated with families of their own. Two of the members live in different states. Their lives are not as intertwined as they once were. Long gone are those days when they sat around drinking coffee and living life as if nothing else mattered but them. Now, they all have kids, careers, mortgages, things that are far more adult and far more pressing.

"I treasure it, I remember every single moment...it was a wonderful time. I mean, we're obviously we're all different now and-and-we have kids, families...but it was an amazing time. Those ten years, a beautiful ten years. Wonderful ups, horrible downs and...a lot of sleeping with each other," Rachel grins wildly as she let out a laugh as she plays with her wedding ring. This store, as Rachel tells it, never would have happened had she not been a member the six.

As the stories continued, she becomes distracted by a customer who keeps darting their eyes around as if hoping that they were invisible. It seemed pretty obvious what the customer is trying to pull off and it seemed obvious to Rachel as well. Rachel lets out a snort, shakes her head, mumbles something about learning from her mistakes and gets up to confront the person who seems to be ready to leave without paying for items. I watch Rachel Geller who is now forty-eight. She is strong, she is stern, she doesn't back down and she says she owes it to the other five. They made her strong.

I love watching her. She looks exactly the same. She has clearly not aged. Still as gorgeous as she was when she was 24 or 14 or even 4. She just remained the same but only on the outside.

Six of One.

The story behind each one of them seems unlikely. A very unlikely connection between six people. Four rich kids, a boy from Queens and a girl just trying to find her normal. Scarsdale, Long Island, Queens and somewhere in the Bronx. A girl who spent ten years living on the streets. A boy with connections to the mob. A brother and sister. A poor little rich boy and a poor little rich girl.

The connections were always there, random run-ins that at the time held no meaning yet clearly meant everything when it became obvious. The beginning, though, nothing seemed obvious and that's where this story begins.

The seventies. I don't appear here. I appear later and my voice will be known but now, I start. Gathering information and learning about the six who would later become the eight but even those final two additions seemed clear choices. The only two to break into the six.

Let's begin. I don't want to get too far ahead of myself. Now some of the names have been changed to protect the innocent or the guilty.

Joey

April 1972

Blood. Sticky blood. That's what he remembered. He told me there was blood. To be honest, I think that's how a lot of his stories begin: blood and food and also sex which is going to be very difficult for me to write about for very apparent reasons. His earliest childhood memory began at Umberto's Clam House, with his entire family. Or most of it. The Tribbiani family was...is large and has gotten larger as years have gone by. In 1972, it wasn't quite as large as it is now. His five-year-old sister, Gina was eating lasagna as he was eating the pizza that his mother had cut up for him. Yes, this is true. He does remember what everyone was eating. He really does have an amazing food memory. He also remembers his sister, Gina, who was whining. She was always whining. In addition to Gina and Joey, there was Cookie who was three and Mary Angela was two and Mary Therese who was a year old. His mom was pregnant again with another girl whom she and Joey's dad had decided to name Veronica. Joey and his siblings were very close in age. I know it seems so annoying to list everyone but I often find myself doing that so I can remember everyone. Joey was the only boy and that came with benefits, he loves to tell me about those benefits. He got his own room and his own bathroom which I find funny now because as an adult, Joey would never get his own bathroom ever again. Anyway, he was surrounded by women and as his future would dictate, he had no clue how to treat any of them. No, no, he'd learn but not until later, but now he was surrounded and he was very much the boy. He loved sports, loved getting dirty and loved food. Loved everything about food which might actually be genetic. He was eating each bite with the happiness of a child opening a Christmas gift.

"You eat like a pig, " Gina whispered.

"Oink, oink," Joey shot back.

Back then, Joey and Gina were partners in crime. They were close, making fun the way siblings do. He kept eating while his parents, Gloria and Joseph Sr., were tending to Cookie, Mary Angela and Mary Therese. Mary Therese was getting a little fussy as Gloria took her from her husband and began comforting her. Joey ignored it all, concentrating solely on that pizza. He hated when his mother cut up the pizza. He had to rearrange it to make it perfect, putting the pieces together like a puzzle. He liked an equal amount of cheese, pepperoni and sauce on each section. He was working with such precision and with an attention span foreign to most kids his age that when the gunfire went off, he barely noticed.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Gloria and Joseph Sr., lept forward, protecting their children. Joey watched his father's arm accidentally knock Joey's plate of pizza to the ground. People were screaming as Joey knelt and crawled under the table to get to his fallen pizza. From his spot on the floor, he noticed a man slumped over in his seat and someone screaming about shooting Crazy Joe dead. Crazy Joe? A little bit of research told me that Crazy Joe was a mobster and was there celebrating his birthday. Worst. Birthday. Ever. Joey was mesmerized as he watched a woman throwing her arms around Crazy, getting covered in blood. There were screams and people running, The blood looked like tomato sauce, Joey kept munching on his pizza as he watched in amazement. The guy with his head slumped down looked hurt. He wasn't sure what was going on, it looked like a scene from a movie when suddenly he felt someone grab his arm and pull him out from under the table. His pizza abandoned and he began crying as his father held him.

"Pizza, pizza…." he kept muttering over and over as the Tribbiani family raced out the door and into the dark night. He heard the sounds of sirens speeding towards the restaurant, the blue and red lights stabbing through the blackness of the sky. He heard his parents yelling as they reached the subway station. Gloria chattering on about going to places like that and Joseph telling her to hush. On the subway, they got glares from passengers who wondered what kind of horrible parents Gloria and Joseph Tribbiani were that they could not quiet down Mary Therese, Mary Angela and Cookie who were all sobbing uncontrollably. Joey was still upset as well. His pizza was still on the floor of the restaurant. This was Joey's earliest childhood memory.

Joey's life was in constant chaos. A big home in Queens filled with sisters and people coming in and out at all hours. He loved the chaos though, he loved being surrounded by so many people. There was excitement and family and food. His mom was always cooking. Even when tending to all the small children surrounding her, there was always something baking, boiling, cooking, steaming. Something going on. Nights like the shootout in Umbertos didn't faze him in the least. It was just part of his world.

"Family is everything. Family protects you. You have each other's back so others don't shoot you in it," Joseph Senior would tell them.

It was all about family and his favorite family member, other than his sister, was his thirteen year old uncle, Tony Soprano. He wasn't sure how Tony was his uncle but he was and Joey would follow him around the neighborhood, often being the one on the look-out for whatever Tony and his friends were doing. He desperately wanted to be part of the group but Tony always told him he was too young, although it didn't stop him from asking the questions that you probably shouldn't ask a four year old.

"Did you really see Crazy Joe get his head blown off?" Tony asked, sitting on the stoop of the Tribbiani home. Tony was "babysitting" Joey and Gina which really involved him playing with the two youngsters outside and getting paid for it.

"My pizza got ruined," Joey said.

"Pizza's not better than people," Gina said.

"It was yummy," Joey said.

Joey idolized Tony. Tony was bigger and taller and even at that age, Joey knew who he wanted to be. He wanted to be Tony. Whatever Tony did, that's what he would be. Tony looked like a teddy bear. He seemed happy and was in charge. He was always in charge. Joey wanted to be in charge.

"Tony," Joseph Senior said as he and Gloria walked out of the house, Gloria holding her stomach and Joseph holding onto Mary Therese. "We made some calls, my parents will be here. Not sure. Joey and Gina, we gotta get your mom to the hospital."

"Your little sister is coming," Gloria said, running her fingers through Joey's hair.

"I don't want another sister," Joey whined.

"What's wrong with your sisters?" Gina asked.

"You're gross," Joey said.

"You're grosser," Gina said.

"Alright, Tony...do you got it?" Joseph Senior said as he guided Gloria down the steps. "My mom and dad are on their way. You won't be alone for long."

"I got it, I got it. Go. Have the baby," Tony said, motioning for the senior Joseph and Gloria to go off the hospital. Soon they left and Joey let out an annoyed sigh as Gina walked into the house.

"You alright, kid."

"I don't want another sister. All I have are sisters. It's stupid."

"Hey, you got a brother. I'm your brother."

"I thought you were Uncle Tony."

"A little of both. Look, they're family and it's all you got. Always protect family. Even if they fuck you over, you gotta be loyal."

"What does it mean to fuck someone over?"

"Oh, forgot you're four. You're actually not supposed to know that word. Come on, I'll make you a sandwich and I'm making you a promise, kid," Tony said as he stood up, Joey followed him towards the kitchen.

"What?"

"For life, kid. I'm protecting you for life. Nothing ever gonna happen to you on my watch. Got?"

"I know. Now, make me a sandwich," Joey said, hopping up onto the chair as Tony laughed and did as told. That sandwich was bigger than Joey's head and when Tony put in front of him, his eyes lit up. He wanted to be Tony, walk, talk, play...just be him. There was just no one better than Tony Soprano.

Phoebe

February 1976

Phoebe woke up early, it was still dark outside kind of early. She swung her legs around her bed as her feet touched the floor. She gently pressed her weight down, trying not to let the squeaky floor wake up Ursula. She slowly crept towards the door and put her hand on the doorknob. She was eight today. Eight and already she was tall for her age. Both she and Ursula were tall for their ages. Her house was creeky and topsy turvy. They had the smallest house on the block made from wood paneling and the roof was pointed. The porch was crooked, an architectural error that had never been fixed. It caused the awning to be crooked as well. It was amusing, at least to Phoebe. Their lawn was in constant need of watering and their house didn't really seem to fit but she didn't quite care. She hated houses that fit. Houses that seemed like all the other houses, her's did not and it was fine by her. I find this funny now. Very funny considering the house Phoebe lives in now. It's beautiful, it's big, it fits. I point that out to her when I visit her and she laughs, that amazing, wonderful, legendary, can be used to cure cancer laugh. She simply shakes her head and agrees that her childhood self would be appalled at what she had become: a soccer mom….but at the time, she loved that beautiful little crooked house with the dried out lawn and the creaky stairs.

Oh, those creaky stairs, they always made sounds as she made her way to the kitchen. The sink was filled with dishes, her mom had not cleaned the dishes. Lily Buffay never did the dishes though. Not since she married Jeff. Jeff was her step dad. He was tall. Super tall. Huge and he had a mustache and wore aviators and had a mullet. He always wore a tank top and jeans, it didn't matter the weather. That's just what he wore. She walked over towards the fridge and opened it, nothing there but the light but she wasn't looking for food. She closed it and opened it again, closed, open. She wished there was a way to find out, to see if the light remained on when the door closed. I would like to take this moment to step in and say that even now Phoebe wishes there was a way to find out. Anyway, back to the story, she let out a slightly annoyed snort when she was momentarily spooked by a blonde standing at her window over the sink. Leslie waved to her and held out a Tupperware container. Phoebe let out a squeal as she ran out the door and Leslie met her there. The two girls sat side by side on the porch and opened the Tupperware, Phoebe grabbed a cinnamon roll out of the container. It was gooey, warm, still warm as she took a bite.

"Oh, so good. I didn't have dinner last night," Phoebe said.

"Why didn't you eat last night?" Leslie asked.

"Oh, it's okay. My mom and step dad wanted to buy us gifts instead," Phoebe said, grinning.

"Hmmm, I bought you a present," Leslie said as she stood up and jumped off the porch steps. Phoebe followed towards the end of the driveway where a big giant box was waiting. It had a picture of a bike on it, rainbow streamers and big plastic basket in front, it was amazing, "Okay, so you know how you liked my bike?"

"Uh-huh," Phoebe said.

"I'm giving you the box," Leslie said.

"Nice," Phoebe said, truly excited.

"I know, I thought you'd like it."

"I love it although...one day, I promise you, I will get a real bike."

Now before anyone says that it can't be possible. An eight-year-old could not be this happy and this wildly optimistic, well then, I would have to point you in the direction of a Mrs. Phoebe Buffay-Hannigan, part owner of the Smelly Cat Bar and Lounge in Nashville, Tennessee. The optimism and excitement at even the smallest of things has never left. She's happy 'cause she just is.

"Oh, that would be cool. It sucks you can't have one," Leslie said.

"Makes sense. I mean, look….my mom makes like two dollars an hour and….we're not wealthy and then my step dad...well….I don't know. Cinnamon rolls are good though. "

"They're always good," Leslie said.

"I think I'd like to live in a cinnamon roll," Phoebe said.

"That would be so cool."

"Look, look….the sun," Phoebe said, pointing. She got up and ran down the concrete path to the sidewalk, she could just about make it out. The sun rising in the distance. She bit into the roll as she watched the sky turn a shade of orange. The sun rising always meant a new day. A wonderful day filled with possibilities. It didn't matter about yesterday, it never mattered about yesterday. It only mattered about today. That was the most important day of all because it was today. Sunrises are still, to this day, her most favorite thing. Now, as a wife and mom, she still gets up just to watch it. It never matters what happened yesterday when you have a today. I have stolen this as a life motto.

When she finished her cinnamon roll, she ran back into her house with a promise to Leslie that she would see her later. She wanted to go to school that day. She loved when she got to have her birthday at school. There would be treats. She ran into her house and up the stairs towards her parents' room.

"Mom, Jeff," she said pounding on the door and opening, "guys, get up."

"Oh, honey….it's so early," Jeff groaned before looking at her, "which one are you again?"

"Phoebe."

"Oh, you're the one I like," Jeff grinned.

"Honey," Lily said, smacking him. "Happy birthday, sweetie."

"Mom, we don't have any food," Phoebe said.

"I know, honey….I just got my paycheck and I had to pay some bills. I will try to get some food today, okay," Lily said.

"I'm going to the doctor today," Jeff said.

"Why?" Phoebe asked.

"Giving blood. You get money for that," Jeff said. "I want you and Ursula each to have a present and I want to buy a cake. Two cakes."

"Jeff," Phoebe said.

"Honey, we can't do two presents and two cakes. I do have to buy some groceries," Lily said.

"I think we can," Jeff said. "They only turn eight once."

"In this lifetime, come on, Jeff. I've turned eight like five times already," Phoebe said.

"Oh, you don't want gifts?" Jeff asked, grinning.

"I never said that," Phoebe said.

"Okay, okay….we will…we will get you gifts and cake," Lily said.

"But-I also need money for the school lunch," Phoebe said.

Jeff rolled over and grabbed his wallet off the nightstand and opened it, pulling out some cash and handing it to Phoebe.

"Awesome, thank you today is bagel day and they have meatless Mondays so I don't have to worry and….so cool...I'm-hey is the water turned back on so I can take a shower?" Phoebe asked.

"Yes, I paid it on Friday and they said they'd turn it on by Monday morning," Lily said.

"This is the best birthday ever," Phoebe said as she practically danced out of the room. This was gonna be fun. A great day. She practically waltzed into her room and saw Ursula sitting up. "Happy birthday, Ursula. Guess what? The water is turned back on."

"Cool," Ursula said as she got out of bed and walked towards the door.

"And Jeff said he's gonna buy two cakes so maybe we can share one and we'll leave the other out for dad," Phoebe said.

"You think he'll come this year?" Ursula asked.

"I don't know. I mean, last year, we left a plate of cookies on our birthday and he ate them all. The year before that, we left a big bowl of ice cream and it was all gone the next morning."

"I think it's Jeff doing it, not dad."

They always did that, every single year. Their dad had left when they were born but every year on their birthday, they'd leave some treats out just in case their dad came by on their birthday and every morning, the treats were gone.

"No, it's not."

"Phoebe, if it's dad then why wouldn't eat the treats and then wake us up to talk to us."

"Maybe he's Santa."

"Or maybe he's Jeff. I'm gonna get ready."

Ursula left the room. Phoebe wasn't very close with Ursula but it didn't matter. She was going to have a birthday at school and the water was turned on and she would believe that it was her dad eating those treats and not Jeff. She would always hold on to that belief. When she got her turn to shower, she spent a long time in there because she hadn't showered in a few days. She loved that shower. Phoebe also loved school. She loved learning. Where Ursula would often zone out and doodle, she was always sitting in front even though she was amongst the tallest of the second graders. She didn't care though. She practically skipped into the classroom, early which was also a plus. Her school bus was never on time but today it was.

"Mrs. Matthews," Phoebe said, running towards her second grade teacher. "Guess what I have money for lunch today and the water got turned on. It's gonna be the best birthday."

"Even better, I got cupcakes and come here," Mrs. Matthews said motioning for Phoebe to follow her to the table with the baby chicks. They were hatching them to learn about the cycle of life. Phoebe peered in the incubator and her eyes widened. The baby chicks were hatched.

"Oh my G-d," Phoebe said, staring at the little baby chicks stumbling around.

"Oh, I had that for dinner last night," Barry Goldberg said, standing next to her. He was her closest guy friend in the school.

"No you didn't," Phoebe said.

"Happy birthday, Pheebs," Barry said.

"You can tell the difference?" Phoebe asked.

"Duh, I went over to Ursula and said happy birthday and she punched me in the stomach," Barry said.

"Ursula," Mrs. Matthews said walking off towards Ursula. Phoebe looked over at her sister and shook her head. She smiled looking back at Barry. He was cute, with curly black hair and a very friendly smile.

"Pheebs, I told my mother it was your birthday and she told me she would get you a present but I have to say it's from me," Barry said.

"Barry, you didn't have to do that."

"But I did….well, my mom because….well, you know my mom is crazy."

"Your mom is sweet," Phoebe said.

Barry's mom was the definition of over protective. She was on the PTA, she was in charge of every school function. Phoebe loved her. She was so fiercely protective. So very different from her own mom.

"Okay, but here," Barry said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ball of tissue paper and handed it to Phoebe. She opened it and her mouth dropped. Erasers shaped like animals. Puppies, ducks, chickens, pigs, they were wonderful.

"These are so cute. Your mom is the best."

"Yeah, I said you like animals and I bought an extra chicken sandwich."

"Barry, I don't eat meat."

"You should. It's good."

"I don't eat meat. It's mean. Look how cute these animals are. How could you eat them?" Phoebe asked.

"Easy."

"You're mean," Phoebe said.

"I'm not mean, I'm hungry. Well, it's okay. I have a jelly and cream cheese sandwich too."

"How many sandwiches do you have?"

"Not enough. But you want that one?" Barry asked.

"Yeah." Phoebe said.

Soon school began and Phoebe sat away from Ursula. The two girls had very different groups of friends. Ursula wanted to fit in, she wanted to be with the popular girls, the mean girls. The girls that would trip you on the playground and announce that you were clumsy. Phoebe never liked those girls. Phoebe's friends had stories. They were funny and silly and made her laugh, especially Barry. He had discovered that she was ticklish by accident and loved to poke her, loved to crack her up especially when she was drinking milk. Barry was tall and always coming up with the best games which were completely off the wall. Crab walk stickball which including crab-walking while hitting a ball. Dodgeball Handball which was basically tag with a fancier name. So many games. Leslie was her sister, the one she would have much rather have had. Leslie was tiny but feisty. She was the spirit. She never wanted to be near the popular people. She wanted to be with the ones who had stories to tell.

"Why does she want to be friends with those girls?" Leslie asked, looking at Ursula who was standing with a group of blondes who were just staring at their nails.

"I don't know. I will never be friends with popular girls. I promise," Phoebe said.

"What's on their nails?" Barry asked.

"Fungus," Leslie said.

"Well, then I'd stare at my nails if I had fungus," Barry said.

Her birthday was fabulous, amazing and after school she got on the box with the picture of the bike while Barry and her other friend Brad pulled her along and Leslie rode her bike alongside her. It wasn't any better than that. Jeff had even gotten presents and her mom had gotten dressed and come downstairs. Jeff had enough money left over from the presents to pay for a cake and pizza. He could not afford another cake but a large pizza was even better because it would probably last longer. She could believe how wonderful the day was, so much gratitude that it didn't matter if Ursula was snippy when she cut a large slice of cake to leave out for their dad, just in case. She couldn't imagine anything better than the life she had now in her crooked little house.

Later that night, she snuck back downstairs towards the kitchen. She wanted to prove to Ursula that it was their dad that was sneaking into their house to eat cake. As she snuck down, trying so hard not to make a sound, she gasped when she saw a figure hunched over the cake.

"Dad?"

The figure turned around and her heart sank. It was Jeff and he was eating the cake. She should have known by the mullet and tank top although she hadn't seen her dad in eight years so maybe he had a mullet? No, she knew who it was. it was Jeff which meant Ursula was right. She stormed downstairs and walked towards him.

"Pheebs?"

"That cake is for my dad."

"I know," Jeff said, his voice sounding sad and tired.

She opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it. She had always held out hope, even when faced with the harsh reality. She wanted so badly for it to be her dad but it would never be.

"You always eat the treats?"

"I'm sorry," Jeff said.

"No, no….I understand," Phoebe said as she plopped herself down in the chair, "Do you think our dad thinks about us?"

"Of course, but listen to me…..you know I'm not going anywhere, right?"

"I know. I'm so happy. It was a good birthday," Phoebe said as she tried to hold back her tears.

"Want cake?"

Phoebe nodded as Jeff grabbed some cake and two forks from the fridge. As he placed it down, Ursula appeared in the kitchen. She and Phoebe exchanged a look and simply nodded as if having a moment. She didn't want Ursula to say anything. She didn't want an 'I told you so', she wanted nothing.

"I was hoping I was wrong," Ursula whispered to her as Jeff grabbed another fork from one of the drawers.

"Maybe he had a birthday party for us...at his house," Phoebe said.

"He did," Ursula said.

Jeff handed a fork to Ursula as they sat together in the dark, eating cake. They didn't say another word to each other, there was not much else to say. They just ate and ate until they could not eat another bite. She wanted her birthdays to remain exactly like that.

Monica

April 1976

A babysitter taught her. That's what Monica told me when I asked. She had just turned six when she heard the noises coming from the bathroom. Her parents had gone to dinner and she was left with a sitter. She was in her room while her brother and his friends were downstairs when she heard the sounds of vomit. She jumped off her bed and walked down the hall. Even at six, she was heavy. She knew that. She was big, so jumping felt more like clomping to her. She walked towards the bathroom and saw her, Carol. Carol had been her name and she was heavy and then had gotten thin. She was leaning over the toilet, fingers in her mouth, retching violently.

"Are you sick?" Monica asked.

Carol looked up, stunned to see her there as she wiped her mouth. Carol shook her head.

"No, no, I'm fine. I just ate too much. Dieting. Sometimes when you eat too much, you have to throw up, but don't say anything. Please?" Carol asked, pleading.

Monica nodded and left the room but the image stayed. The doctors, everyone was telling her she needed to lose weight. Even at six, she was big. She wore big clothes. She was bigger than all the kids in her kindergarten class and they always made fun of her but maybe she could be like Carol. She could diet like Carol? Carol had been her sitter for her whole life and she had been big too. Then seemingly overnight, she got really tiny. Maybe that's how she did it? She wanted to be tiny like the kids in her class. She hated that people looked at her like she was gross and not cute. She wanted to be little, like the other girls.

A few days later, she found herself in the kitchen bringing a chair to the fridge and standing on it. She opened it and began eating. Deli meats, cheese, Chinese food leftovers, then she went to the freezer and there was ice cream and in the pantry, there were cookies and crackers. She kept eating until her stomach hurt and soon she went up to the bathroom and remembered what Carol had done. She leaned over and stuck her fingers down her throat. It took a few tries but soon she was throwing up. She kept pushing her fingers further down until she felt someone grab her arm. She looked up and saw her mom and tried to read the expression on her face. Was it anger? Was it confusion? She pulled Monica out of the bathroom and into her bedroom where she immediately began to spank her. Monica wasn't sure why she was getting a spanking? Maybe that's why Carol was so secretive about it? She cried as her mom continued to spank her. She was so confused. Her mom would always try to get her to lose weight and she was trying and she was getting in trouble for it. Soon, Judy stood Monica infront of her and stared at her with a scary look in her eye.

"I don't ever want to see you do that again. Never."

Monica nodded as Judy left but she was more confused than ever. It worked for Carol. Maybe that was a good diet. The next morning, she walked back into the bathroom and stood on the white thing with the numbers, the scale. She couldn't quite figure out the scale but she knew the number looked smaller than it had the day before. She didn't understand why her mom was mad. Her weight went down which was what her mom wanted. Maybe she just had to make sure mom didn't see it. Maybe it was because it was a grown up diet? She would have to try it again but maybe at a different time when her mom wasn't there.

She had a moment a few days later when her parents went out again. Carol was babysitting again and again Monica went to the fridge. Carol was on the phone with her boyfriend so Monica began eating anything she could get her hands on. Soon, she felt full. She felt sick and ran up to the bathroom. She did it the first try and she felt kind of happy. It did hurt though, her throat felt sore so maybe it wasn't something she could do a lot but everyone once in awhile? Maybe if she was tiny, things would be better for her.