pissed. Again. And I can’t blame him. If I got stuck with me for a lab partner, I’d probably feel the same way.
I avoid meeting his eyes and concentrate on the sketch I’m working on—a plate of fruit and cheese, as if I’m actually taking notes instead. The bell rings, and I realize that I’ve made it another day without paying any attention.
And hardly eating anything.
It’s after two o’clock already. Mom will be home soon, and the first thing she’ll do when she arrives is demand to see the meal photos I’m supposed to be tracking on an app in my phone.
I sigh and take my purse and keys out from underneath my desk. The tiny sticker chart I made during my appointment with Jana last week falls on the floor, and I pick it up. “No-ED November” stares up at me, all bubbly and happy looking in Jana’s familiar writing.
“Challenge: 3 meals a day all month.”
I feel tears burning behind my eyes as I sling my book bag across my shoulders. I continue ignoring Jackson, who is still furiously pouring over the lab book, and I make my way out to the crowded hallway. I’m supposed to go visit the school counselor and talk to her about Thanksgiving and meal planning. On the weeks I don’t see Jana, I have to see her instead to cut down on costs.