Lunchbag in hand, I roam the crowded hallways in search of a quiet place to eat. Eyes trained downward, I avoid eye contact with all my old friends. How had my life become so pitiful and lonely? When did I become this sad?

***

She hasn't eaten all day. Has she even touched her lunch? Am I jumping to conclusions? Or is she really not hungry?

My mind races as I eat my homemade PB&J. She sits across the table from me, staring off into space, with an uneaten lunch in her locker. I know I should study for my math test, but the open book in front of me is of little importance to me right now.

Today's the day, I tell myself. Today I'll bring it up.

The bell rings, interrupting our mutual silence, and we go our separate ways to class. But I take a detour.

"Is she in?" I ask, pointing to our counselor's closed door.

Upon the affirmation, I knock and poke my head inside.

"Do you have a minute? I'm kinda worried about my friend."

Sitting on the couch, I look up and meet her eyes.

"I think she has an eating disorder. She doesn't eat, or if she does, it's a single chip or an apple slice. I've been watching for a while, but I don't know. I don't want to stay quiet if she's in trouble. I know I probably should've come in sooner, but I wanted to be sure first."

We talk awhile and she tells me I did the right thing, but I don't feel any better about it. I feel dirty, somehow, like I'm betraying her and sharing some secret only we know.

As I leave, the tears threaten to spill from my eyes but I close the door and go to class, pretending everything's fine.

***

Finally some peace and quiet. Alone, I sit in the hallway outside the teacher's lounge and the dean's office. No normal high school student sits here, but since when am I a normal high schooler?

We used to sit here, she and I, when she wanted to be away from everyone else. Most days she just wanted to sleep, while others, she'd cry uncontrollably. My comforts rejected, all I could do was sit with her and try to control my own tears.

Occasionally a stray teacher wanders through the hallway and eyes me quizzically. But to avoid an awkward confrontation, I feign preoccupation with a made-up homework assignment until they pass and I find myself, once again, alone with my thoughts and worries.

How's she doing? I hope she's listening to the doctors. I wish I'd spoken up sooner about how far it'd gone. If I had said something earlier, maybe she wouldn't have had to leave. Oh God, I hope she comes back soon.

***

She left school early again and isn't answering my texts. What's happening? I can't stop my mind from automatically jumping to the worst possible conclusions: she's dead; she's in the hospital; she's never coming back. Because when everything's as bad as it is right now, it can only get worse, right?

Later at night, I get the text.

She found out.

Who found out about what?

The counselor knows I cut. She told my mom.

My jaw drops as I stare at my phone, my mind blank. How did I miss this? Why didn't I notice? What kind of a friend am I? When did this happen?

The light of my screen blurs and the words mush together. No, I can't cry. Not right now. Not with my mom here. Not in the store. I hold it in until we get home, but rush to the bathroom as the waterworks begin. Crouched on the floor, my body shaking as I sob, I'm chastised by my mind for not paying enough attention.

I can't believe I didn't notice this. I'm supposed to pick up on the hints. What kind of a friend am I? I can't believe this is happening. I thought things were getting better.

The rational part of my brain tells me it's not my fault. It's winter and long sleeves are uniform. You couldn't have known; she hid it well.

But rational thoughts lose, because my brain just repeatedly reminds me I should've known.

***

I know it's my own fault that I'm sitting alone right now; I'm too empathetic and I get too involved in other people's problems. I've always been like that. I let her issues become my own and her falling-outs with friends affect my relationships.

I'm so tired today; I couldn't sleep again last night. I kept waking up to check for her texts, but then I remembered she's in the hospital without her phone. I really hope the doctors can help her, though I'm worried she won't listen. I know activities get results, and worrying isn't an activity, but I don't now what else I can do. Some nights I get so overwhelmed I break down and cry after everyone else goes to bed. Well, it's most nights actually. Even though she's getting the help I've been pushing for months, I can't help hoping she's okay.

I don't know if I can handle two more classes today without losing what little cool I still have left. I couldn't do my homework, of course. I should work on it now. Oh, but I'm so tired. Maybe if I close my eyes for just a second I'll wake up feeling better. Nestling into my corner, I let go of all my thought and let myself fall asleep.

The bell jars me from my slumber and I gather my uneaten lunch and backpack. I head off to endure yet another hour of questions.

Where is she? She's sick.

Is she okay? She's fine.

Is she coming back? I don't know.

Everyone asks and worries about her because she isn't here. I'm here every day, so no one worries about me. Every day I come and sit through my classes, pretending I'm fine, and hoping someone calls my bluff. I'm slowly falling apart, but no one notices.

Maybe I'm a better actress than I knew.