"Hardy!"
Joe turned from the locker-room door at the sound of his Coach's voice.
"Come into my office for a minute."
Joe trekked across the gym, leaving his friends behind.
"It's been a few weeks," Coach Finley explained. "You want to hop on the scale?"
"Sure," he said, startled by how nervous he suddenly felt.
He'd stuck to salads, sandwiches, and fruit the past few weeks, and begun to notice his clothes loosening a bit. His mother had told him he'd lost—Frank too. He'd surprised himself with how easily it had come off, and how little food he could really run on.
The weight wanted to, needed to come off. You ought to keep going. More wants to.
As Joe stepped on the scale, he marveled at this voice that had entered his head, this constant presence that appeared whenever he was hungry, which was often now.
Just listen to me. I'll take care of you. I'll get rid of it for you. Just trust me.
"Let's see," Coach Finley stepped forward and pushed the dial on the scale up toward the 180's; Joe found himself holding his breath. But after a moment the coach let out a low whistle.
"Congrats, son. You lost ten pounds. Good job. Just work at keeping it off, all right?"
"Sure," Joe answered numbly, only half listening.
I don't really need a whole sandwich for lunch. I could do with just fruit. And dinner's the worst. But if I cut back on breakfast…or even skipped breakfast…
"Joe? Are you all right?"
The younger Hardy realized he hadn't moved from the scale and stepped carefully back.
"Fine."
"All right. Take it easy, you hear? That was a lot of weight to shed in a few weeks."
"Sure, Coach. Thanks."
Joe headed from the office to the locker room, knowing Frank would be out in the parking lot with the van waiting for him.
You don't just need to cut the food out, you know. There's exercise, lots of it. Step that up and the food down and it'll come off faster.
Joe paused in the doorway, suddenly feeling breathless. The workouts had gotten gradually more intense as the season went on; sometimes they felt too much to the younger Hardy, who felt light-headed and on occasion, weak.
It's just for a few more weeks. Just a few more pounds.
Frank was in the parking-lot, a notebook spread opened in front of him on the steering wheel. Joe smiled at the familiar sight of his brother, unable to leave his work long enough to meet him, then felt a sudden burst of sadness as he thought of how the van would be waiting for him next year, but his brother wouldn't be in it. Joe would be on his own.
Suddenly cold, Joe shivered and knocked on the driver's-side window, startling his older brother.
"Hey, didn't see you," Frank said with a grin. "Hop in."
Joe bit his lip. "I think I'm going to walk home today."
The elder Hardy's face instantly went into a frown. "You sure? You don't want to over do it."
"It's no big deal," Joe said easily. "I'll walk slow."
"It's still a couple of miles."
"I could use the exercise."
The older Hardy frowned. "Joe, you had gym, plus the workout at practice, plus the run we do everyday. Don't you think it's a little much…"
"No. Frank, it's fine. Don't worry about it."
"But I am worried. I think you're getting too into this…"
"Frank, for God's sake, I'm not some girl, it's fine, okay, Coach said I had to lose another ten pounds," he lied, inwardly surprised at how easily it came out, how convincing he was being. He never lied to his brother. He'd never needed to lie to his brother. And, suddenly, he hoped that Frank would somehow see through it, get out and force him in to the van, drive him somewhere and order food and command him to eat, fill the growing emptiness, take the dizziness away.
Look how weak you are. Pathetic.
"I just want you to be healthy," Frank said gently. "I'm not trying to offend you."
The younger Hardy's shoulders slumped. "I know," he murmured. "I'm okay."
Frank didn't look convinced, but nodded all the same. "Why don't we go out tonight. Meet the guys at Mr. Pizza or something."
"I'd rather eat at home," Joe almost snapped. Nothing was worse than the smell of all that grease and sauce and cheese. Not when you're hungry.
"Then let's go drive somewhere. I don't know. I feel like we don't hang out anymore. You're always out exercising, or doing homework, or taking naps."
Joe smiled and touched his brother's arm through the window. "Then we'll do something, okay? Don't worry so much. I'll see you at home, all right?"
Frank rolled his eyes and turned the key in the ignition as Joe turned and made his way across the parking lot toward the road, eyeing the slightly thinner waist, the slightly narrower hips, and wondering why this made him feel cold.