The Prom Queen bound herself to a "Slimming System" and chose me as her reference point. Her weight is eternally locked at exactly half of mine. When I weighed 220 pounds, she was 110. She had the perfect body, the kind everyone envied. When I dropped to 210, she was 105. She was worshipped, surrounded by endless simps. But with the prestigious Dance Conservatory Showcase coming up, she lived in constant terror that I might eat a single extra bite. So, she weaponized the entire football team. She sent her minions to humiliate me daily, hoping the trauma would starve me into shedding a few more pounds for her benefit. "I swear to God, I’m going to get skinny!" Watching me make that vow, the Prom Queen smiled like she’d won the lottery. But let’s see if she can still smile on the day I hit 110 pounds. 1 My hair was plastered to my forehead, sweat dripping into my eyes. Every time my heavy frame jiggled with a step, a group of guys would link arms and cackle as they jogged past me. "Yo, Big Bertha! Shake the ground much?" "Careful, or she’ll cause a magnitude 8 earthquake! Hahaha!" This was my daily hell. Chloe’s lapdogs. A rotation of varsity jackets and cruel mouths, ensuring I never had a moment of peace. Morning run, cafeteria, study hall—they stuck to me like gum on a shoe. One of them feigned a shove at my back. His fingers were sweaty and gross against my thin shirt. A wave of nausea and panic rose in my throat. I flinched violently, my feet getting tangled in my own clumsiness. "Whoa, easy there, tank!" Laughter exploded around me. Not far away, under the shade of an oak tree, Chloe stood watching. She looked like an angel, eyes crinkled in a sweet smile. She flashed the boys an "OK" sign. The boys scattered. Thud. I tripped over nothing and slammed into the track. The pain was instant. My knees scraped against the red rubber granules, skin tearing open. Blood mixed with dirt. I lay there, sprawling and pathetic, too heavy to push myself up immediately. The wind slapped my face as other students ran by. No one stopped. No one helped. Instead, someone shouted, "Fatty hit the deck! Tsunami warning!" The track field erupted. "AHAHAHAHA!" I sat there as the wind picked up dead leaves around me. I felt like a piece of discarded trash in the middle of the lane. Staring at their retreating backs, I screamed the only thing I could think of. "I’m going to lose weight! I swear!" Chloe’s footsteps paused. She turned slowly, looking down at me from a distance. Her eyes didn't hold pity. They held the gleam of a plan falling perfectly into place. 2 I discovered Chloe’s secret a week ago. It was school physicals day. Chloe weighed in at 105 lbs. The dance instructor told her, "If you lose another five pounds, you’ll be camera-perfect for the showcase." I was walking past the equipment room when I heard her complaining to her childhood friend—and our class Quarterback—Brad. "I need to lose more... but that damn cow eats so much, how am I supposed to drop weight?" Cow? The insult made me freeze. I pressed my ear to the door. In the conversation that followed, my world tilted. A year ago, Chloe got a "Slimming System." She designated me as the anchor. Her weight would always be exactly 50% of mine. Because I hovered around 200 lbs, she stayed a perfect 100. Even if my weight fluctuated, she stayed in that golden 90-110 range without lifting a finger. But there was a catch. She couldn't control it directly. It was like a blind box. Two weeks ago, on my birthday, I decided to treat myself. I binged for two weeks and gained ten pounds. Chloe complained to Brad that she’d suddenly developed a "muffin top." Recently, due to the bullying, I’d been skipping meals. I lost weight. Chloe lost weight. Now, she needed to lose 5 lbs. That meant I needed to lose 10. She could have just asked me. But she didn't. She played dirty. Stealing my lunch tray. Spiking my water with laxatives. And getting Brad to lead the harassment campaign to shame me into starving. My blood turned to ice as I listened. She wants me to lose 10 pounds? That’s too little. I’ll give her 80. No, let’s make it a nice, round 100. When I got back to the classroom, my desk was covered in pig stickers. My textbooks were in the trash can, smelling like old banana peels. Brad stood on the podium, pointing at me. "Did you guys hear? The Whale roared on the track field! She said she’s gonna get skinny!" The class roared with laughter. "If Lily gets skinny, I’ll eat dirt!" "If she hits 110, I’ll ask her to Prom!" "Deal," I whispered to myself. I hope you boys are hungry. 3 I started a TikTok account. Avatar: A generic fitness model. Handle: Project_Perfection. Caption: "210 lbs. Road to Redemption. 80 Days until the Showcase." In the mirror, my oversized T-shirt hid the rolls, but my thighs were still thick as tree trunks. I downloaded a trending HIIT workout and started moving. Within minutes, I was drenched. My face was tomato red. Viewers started trickling in. "Day 1 is hell, sis. You got this." "Don't give up!" Of course, the trolls came too. "Ew." "Clout chaser." "With that build? You aren't making any showcase. Stop embarrassing yourself." I replied calmly: "Not dancing. Just betting." I kept going until I collapsed on the carpet, chest heaving. Then, a comment popped up that stopped my heart. "LMAO wait, isn't this Lily the Whale from our class? ?" My phone blew up. Brad had found the stream. He screenshotted the most unflattering angle of me sweating and Photoshopped me into the Michelin Man. He spammed it in the class group chat. Brad: "Lily Tire Co. Built tough!" The chat exploded with "?" reacts. Random Classmate: "@Lily Good luck on that Michelin sponsorship!" I turned off my phone and buried my face in the couch cushions. After I stopped crying, I turned the stream back on. I wasn't quitting. Strangers were cheering for me. Why were the people I saw every day the monsters? I made a plan. Calorie deficit. Cardio. No mercy. 4:00 AM. Pitch black outside. I ran from my house to the school. I looked at the calendar on my wall before I left. Showcase: 80 Days. 4 The morning air was crisp. The world was kinder when the sun wasn't up. The sanitation workers waved at me. The guy at the bagel shop knew me as the "early runner" and stopped trying to sell me cream cheese. I stared at the golden bagels, swallowed my saliva, bought a boiled egg, and washed it down with water. Between classes, while everyone gossiped, I was in the stairwell doing squats. My legs shook. My shirt was soaked. Chloe and her clique would "accidentally" walk by. "Wow, look at her go." "Still gross though." Lunchtime. Boiled chicken breast. Broccoli. No dressing. The cafeteria smelled like pizza and fries. It was torture. Boys walked past my table with trays piled high with burgers. "Hey Lily, does that cardboard taste good?" "I bet you twenty bucks she binges tonight." "Life's short, eat a burger, cow." Chloe would swoop in then, playing the saint. She’d scold them gently, acting like my protector. "Guys, stop it. Lily, don't listen to them. Skinny is beautiful." She’d cling to my arm, terrified I’d give up and eat. I acted moved by her "kindness." "You're right, Chloe. I'm going to lose another ten pounds just for you." I chugged water and threw the rest of my chicken away. Back in class, the girl in front of me was eating fried chicken. The smell of grease and spices filled my nose. I buried my head in my arms. My brain was offline. Only my nose was working. Showcase: 70 Days. 5 "20 days, 10 pounds down. That's 0.5 lbs a day..." I was doing the math on my notepad. The paper looked like a slice of white bread to my starving eyes. At this rate, I wouldn't hit my goal. Current Weight: 190 lbs. Goal: 110 lbs. Days left: 60. I needed to lose over a pound a day. Mr. Henderson, our homeroom teacher, slammed a ruler on my desk. "Doing math about your weight again? Look, Lily, I admit you lost a little." The class turned to look. Some whispered that I actually looked different. "But," Henderson sneered, "It's just water weight. It's genetics, Lily. You can't fight nature. Some people are born to eat, some are born to shine." He gestured to the front row, where Chloe sat. "Speaking of shining... I have an announcement. The lead for the school's promo video has been selected." "It's Chloe!" Applause erupted. "Obvious choice." "She's perfect." I looked up. Chloe basked in the adoration. She looked radiant. My 10 lb loss meant she had dropped 5 lbs. She was now 95 lbs. Perfect for the camera. "She looks even better today," someone whispered. I leaned back to hear more. The girls behind me leaned away, wiping their desks like I was contagious. "Ugh, sweaty."
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