Chapter 4

When everyone goes home, Best Friend comes back in the room.

"Best friend," I say, laughing. It's our thing now. I don't know why, but it is. I have to laugh and say 'best friend' when she walks in my room. It's kind of like my cat. Whenever he comes near, I always point to him and say 'best!' No reason, just because.

"Okay, let's talk," BF says and sits down in a chair next to me.

"Sure."

BF crosses her legs and slumps down in her chair, taking out a piece of paper and pencil.

I look at her strangely. "What are you doing?"

"And how does that make you feel?" she asks in this weird voice.

"Um what?"

"Well if you refuse to talk to a real therapist, I'll try my best to act like one."

"Fine." Honestly, I'd rather talk to her than that creepy, fat therapist guy that tried to get everything out of me at once. He told me to bite him. So I did.

"So… I've decided to do some role playing."

"Role playing?"

"Yes… sorta," she says and grabs her purse. She throws me a Shane doll.

I catch it and laugh. "A Shane doll?"

She tosses me two more. "And there are your brothers."

I look at them and laugh some more. I hold up them. "You gave me a Zac Efron and Corbin Bleu doll."

"Yes, that's you," she points to Zac, and then to Corbin, "and that's Jason."

"But that looks nothing like Jason… And Jason's not black."

"Or is he?" BF says mysteriously.

"Uh, I'm pretty sure he's not."

Then she pulls out two more dolls: A Miley Cyrus one, and a Taylor Swift one.

"Okay, really?" I ask, taking the dolls. "Our ex-girlfriends?"

"No. Say hello to your mummy and daddy."

"Who's who?"

"The Miley one is your mummy, and Taylor is your dad."

"That's disgusting. My dad's wearing a dress."

"Work with me!" And then she pulls out this play house. I think it's the Hannah Montana house. "And this is your house."

"How did all of that fit in your purse?" I ask.

"I have a really big purse. Anyway," She starts, but I stop her.

"Wait, where did you get all this stuff?"

"My niece."

I pick up the Shane doll. "Any reason why he's not wearing pants?"

"Well, because… never mind. It's a long story and I kinda don't want to tell you."

"Actually, I kinda don't want to know."

"Good because you'd think less of my niece if I told you."

I laugh.

"Okay," she says, "let's do this." She takes Miley and Taylor (AKA Mum and Dad) and Corbin Bleu (The black Jason) and leaves me with Shane and "me." "Do you want to start or should I?"

"You can start."

She puts Corbin Bleu in the little kitchen in the playhouse. Then she grabs "Mum" and "Dad" and pretends to make them talk.

She picks up Mum first. "Oh, Paul, dear, I think there's something wrong with Nate."

And then she puts on a lower voice for "Dad." "What do you mean, honey?"

"Well he hasn't eaten anything really, and he always wears sweaters."

"Really?"

"Yes."

BF puts down the dolls. "Okay, now get you." She grabs "Jason" and I grab "me." She puts on another really low voice for Jason. "Oh, hey there Nate. What are you doing?"

"Sitting?" I ask and have my doll stand up.

"No, I was just wondering why you look so sick. Maybe you would like some food?"

I hesitate.

"I said," BF starts, "maybe you would want some food. Nate, what would you have really said?"

"I… I would have told him no," I say.

She points to the Zac Efron doll. "Well act it out, silly."

So I do. I pick up the doll. "Actually, Jason, I'm not hungry."

"But, Nate," BF says with the voice again, "you must be so hungry. You haven't eaten in four days."

"I'm just not… hungry."

"Well surely you must want something."

"No… I don't want anything."

"Are you sure? I can make you anything you want."

"I'm positive."

BF changes back to her real voice. "Give me Shane." I hand her the doll. "Now make Nate go away."

I throw the doll off to the side.

She puts on the fake voices again and holds up Shane. "Oh, Jason, I think Nate might be depressed."

Then she holds up Jason. "No, Shane, I think he's just really sick."

"But I love Nate so much, and no one stays sick this long. And he doesn't even have a fever or anything. And have you noticed how skinny he is?"

"But I'm so fat," I cut in.

She picks up the Shane doll. "Jason, did you hear something?"

"I don't know," 'Jason' says. "No one else is in the house."

I roll my eyes and pick up the Nate doll, setting it right down in the room.

"Oh goodness gracious trumpets!" 'Shane' says. "Nate appeared out of nowhere as if he were listening to our entire conversation!"

"How weird," 'Jason' adds.

I bring myself into this. "Guys, how could you say that I'm so skinny? I'm a whale."

'Shane' flies over to me. "No you're not, Nate."

"Yes. I am."

"We're scared for you," 'Jason' says, flying over to me.

"Why?" I ask. "If I'm fat then no one will like me and all of our fans will leave us."

"That's not true," Best Friend says in her real voice.

I set down the Zac Efron doll. "Yes it is. I'm not perfect. Have you noticed that every single celebrity is so skinny and beautiful? I'm not."

"Nate, you are."

"You're just saying that."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You're just saying that so I'll eat something."

"Why would I lie to you?"

I don't say anything. I can't say anything. Why would she lie to me?

She pushes the dolls and the house off to the side. "Nate, do you trust me?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"Then you can believe me when I say you're so skinny it's scaring me. It's scaring your brothers. They care about you."

"They'd hate me if they ever found out what I've been doing."

"No they wouldn't."

"Yes they would."

She sighs. "Nate, come here."

I hop out of bed and she unhooks me to all the stuff and we go into the bathroom.

"Take off that gown." I do. "Now stand here, look in the mirror, and tell me what you see," Best Friend tells me.

So I do. I stand there, looking over myself. "I see… me. Me with a really fat stomach and arms and legs."

Best Friend turns to me. "I see Nate. But it's not the real Nate; it's Nate whose ribs poke out and who looks like a starving African kid."

"Starving African kid?" I ask. "Some starving African kid. I bet I weigh a trillion pounds."

"How much you want to bet on that?" she asks.

I stare at her, confused.

Best Friend looks through some cabinets.

"What are you looking for?" I ask.

"One of those electronic scales." She finds one and puts it on the ground. "Do you think I'm skinnier than you?"

"Much," I say. "You're so beautiful."

She steps on the scale. "One fifty-three. Your turn."

I hesitantly step on it and put my hand over my eyes. "Don't look; it's gonna be embarrassing."

"Ninety-eight," BF says.

I open my eyes and look down. "That can't be right."

"How much did you weigh a month ago?"

"One forty-five." I step on the scale again. "Are you sure it said ninety-eight?" It did. I step on it a few more times. Ninety-eight. Every single time. "It must be lying," I say, stepping on it a few more times.

It didn't lie.

I look in the mirror.

And I see…

Nate the starving African child.