Friday morning, I woke up and immediately got dressed in a pair of Calvin Klein jeans and a midriff-baring pink top. I brushed my shoulder-length, shimmering brown hair and looked in the mirror. I thought my wide-set brown eyes looked sad. I sighed.

My name is Dorianne Renee Wallingford, but everyone calls me Dori. I don't have any brothers or sisters, and lately I'd been feeling lonely. I felt like my good friends had all deserted me, too. I wondered if I was growing away from Emily, Pete Black, and Rick Chow. I'm starting to get more serious about my dancing and singing, while all they care about is the newspaper and goofing off. (I want to be a Broadway performer in a few years.)

But on the plus side, I'd started hanging out more with some casual friends – Claudia Kishi, Stacey McGill, and their crowd. They were all cool. The only trouble was, they're all really into baby-sitting. I personally think kids are big pains. But the BSC had invited me to this circus tonight along with some kids and I was determined to have a good time.

I ran down three flights of stairs to the dining room.

"What would you like for breakfast… Dori?" my mom asked. She's always on my case because I'm so skinny and because I barely eat a thing, but what are dancer-singers like me supposed to be? Fatsos?

"Um…nothing?" I said as though it were a question.

"Dorianne, you are to eat something. Anything!"

I sighed. "Do we have any yogurt?"

"Huckleberry and boysenberry."

I quickly ate a small carton of huckleberry yogurt and left for school.

Later, at lunchtime, I glanced at Emily's table and saw Pete and Rick making one of their food sculptures. They'd stuck spaghetti noodles onto an apple for hair, and were trying to glue raisins on for eyes, using mashed potatoes as the glue. I rolled my eyes and decided to sit once more with the BSC.

"Hi," I said to Dawn Schafer, who was at the moment the only girl sitting at their table.

"Hi, Dori," she replied. "Are you looking forward to the circus?"

"Lots," I replied.

Dawn opened up a tupperware container and started to eat this brown rice mix. I don't know Dawn very well yet; she recently moved back here from California (she's always going back and forth between California (where her dad lives) and Connecticut (where her mom lives)) but I think she's a health food nut. The only junk food I've ever seen her touch is pretzels, and her juice is always unsweetened and organic and stuff like that.

"What are you having for lunch?" Dawn asked me with mild curiosity.

I shifted in my seat and said, "Um, nothing. I'm leaving at 11:35 to go to the library."

Abby and Kristy joined us. "Hi," Abby said breathlessly, wheezing a little. "Kristy just poured a bucket of water over Alan Gray's head in gyb class. I laughed so hard I thought I'd have an asthba attack right there!" We all grinned – not at poor Abby's asthma, but at Kristy pulling one over on her nemesis, Alan.

Dawn started to drink some herb tea from a thermos. "You guys should give Alan a break," she said. "Maybe we should invite him to the circus with us. I so cannot wait!"

"Me, neither," we all chorused.

We sat silently for a moment, munching food. (Or in my case, not.) I felt comfortable with these girls, I'd always found some of them a little dorky (except Claudia and Stace) but they were actually pretty nice.

Abby put her Cheetos down and unwrapped a tuna-fish sandwich. I thought she was allergic to tuna, but she told me that was shellfish she was allergic to. Dawn began to lecture Abby about innocent fish and how they used to kill dolphins just trying to get the tuna, but I tuned her out. Mary Anne came over with the hot lunch, which was noodles and chicken that looked slimy and pale, some cooked carrots, a cinnamon roll, and a carton of milk. Then Claudia strolled over with a Fudgsicle, and Stacey followed her, also with a hot lunch tray.

"Guys, I've gotta go," I said. All this food was making me feel slightly sick.

"Aren't you eating anything?" asked Mary Anne. I just shook my head and left.

When I got home, the first thing my mother said to me was, "Dori, what did you have for lunch?"

"Nothing," I answered her quickly, heading for the stairs. She blocked me.

"Dorianne Wallingford! Look at this!" Mom grabbed my wrist and put her thumb and pinkie around it. They went all the way around, with about half an inch left.

"That is skin and bones! You're skin and bones! Eat! EAT! EAT!"

"I don't wanna eat," I muttered.

"Do you want to quit dancing?" my mother threatened. "If this is what being on the stage is doing to you…"

"Mom, that's not fair!" I cried in protest.

"Then, eat!"

I stomped upstairs to my bedroom. I'd show her.

She might be able to stop me from dancing, but she could never stop me from singing. I flopped onto my pink canopy bed and idly began to sing The Star Spangled Banner. I wished it was me performing at the circus instead of some kid.

"Oh say can you see? By the dawn's early light. What so proudly we hailed…"

Mom called me for dinner a few hours later, and I ran downstairs. I couldn't help sulking. Mom had piled extra spaghetti onto my plate and given me practically a whole loaf's worth of garlic bread.

I picked at my food, not eating one bite. When Mom and Dad went into their bedroom, I got up from the table, ran to the garbage chute, and dumped the pasta and bread. I vowed to myself not to eat a bite until my mother left me alone … even if I died of starvation!