Chapter 4: Will Is Not Enough
I wake to voices.
"She looks tired." "But class starts soon, shouldn't we wake her?" It sounds like Ron and Harry.
"Parvati! Parvati, wake up!" And that is Hermione. She's nice, in her own bossy way. I wonder how she manages to stay thin. She's not as tiny as Lavender, but still much skinnier than me. Perhaps it's an English characteristic, being thin. I force my eyes to open and start to sit up.
"Oh…hello, Hermione, Ron, Harry," I say. "What time is it?" Hermione peers at me, frowning slightly.
"We just got back from lunch. We should probably start heading down to class right now," she says. "You're looking a little pale…why weren't you at lunch?" she adds. She seems a little concerned, and I feel a knot rising in my throat. Lavender should be here waking me right now, should be asking how I feel. Instead, it's the well-intentioned bookworm who is nice to just about everybody, no matter how repulsive they are.
"I'm fine," I say tonelessly. "I was feeling a bit tired after Transfiguration, so I came back to lie down a bit." Her expression clears.
"Oh yes…you were up so early today!" She noticed? I'm flattered. I smile, thank her, and straighten myself out before walking to DADA.
DADA gives me a chance to fade into the background entirely as Harry and Professor Snape antagonize each other. Thanks to Harry's DA training last year, I do fairly well in this class.
Next is Divination. We have Professor Trelawney this year, not Firenze. Too bad, he was quite cute. But I'm actually a little relieved. Now that I've realized how fat I am, I'd rather not make a fool of myself in front of Firenze. As I reach the top of the stairway to the North Tower, I find myself panting slightly. Beside me, Lavender doesn't seem at all ruffled. I'm so out of shape.
Divination isn't so much fun when I realize that even Professor Trelawney is glamorously thin. If she just got contacts, did something with her hair, and wore proper clothes, she could be a model or actress.
I stomp down the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, looking at all the thin girls around me. As I pass Madam Hooch, I realize that I am, in fact, the fattest thing in Hogwarts. How do they do it? Maybe skipping meals isn't enough…I should try Quidditch.
At dinner, I make sure not to overdo it. I take a small amount of salad, one piece of plain grilled chicken, and drink plain water. No carbs, just lean protein and greens. I force my eyes away from all the rich desserts and instead take another sip of water. My stomach grumbles, but I won't break.
Willpower. Willpower. Willpower. Do it, you bitch. It's my mantra to get me through dinner. Harsh words, perhaps, but I deserve them. It's hardest when I eat after skipping, because just the smallest amount of food makes me ravenous.
"Oh look, crème bruleé! Isn't that your favorite, Parvati?" I swear at Lavender under my breath. If she was any kind of best friend, she would know that chocolate cake is my favorite, just like I know apple pie and ice cream is hers.
"Here, have some!" She cheerfully hands me a dish, and I'm forced to take it or cause a scene. I carefully take the smallest amount possible, and slowly eat it as she beams at me. I hate how it tastes so good. Somehow, I can't stop myself from taking another small helping.
In the after-dinner rush, I turn around a corner near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and slam right into none other than Pansy Parkinson, walking along with that weedy Nott boy.
"Watch where you're going, fatty," she snaps as she dusts herself off and sweeps past me. I stop dead, feeling bile rise in my throat. She's right, so right. I ate dessert, two helpings of it. Suddenly, I feel so much fatter. I can't stand it. I slam open the door of Myrtle's bathroom, but luckily the annoying whiner's not around.
I try to stick my finger down my throat, like I've heard a person is supposed to do, but I just end up gagging. I want to throw up so much, but no matter how many times I try, I can't.
I'm a failure.
I sink to the cold floor, wrap my arms around my knees, and try not to cry. Still, the stupid tears well up and spill over. I bury my face in my arms and knees, trying to get myself under control.
After a few minutes, I get up and rinse my face with cool water. My eyes look a little red, but I suppose I could explain that away as tiredness and possibly late hay fever. It's not yet October, after all.
I smooth down my skirt and shirt, then walk out and up to the common room to finish my homework. I'm nearly there when I remember that I need a book from the Library about for my Potions essay, so I turn around and trudge there.