TW: EATING DISORDERS

When I enter the lunch hall I'm not sure what to do. It sounds pathetic, really. Charli already told me where she would be sitting.

I get a tray and wonder what I'm meant to eat. The Group girls usually don't eat much, so I take a salad and a box of orange juice and start to walk towards the Group table. As I sit down opposite Charli, everyone seems to be staring at me.

"Hi Year 9!" Charli says, in her overly bright voice. "Welcome to the Group, this is Leia," She gestures to a short girl on her left with long blonde curls and icy blue eyes, "My," she gestures to a girl to her right with shoulder length dark hair and the most perfect eyeliner I've ever seen, "and Liz." She gestures to the girl sitting next to me who Has blonde hair in a single french braid going down her back. None of the girl she just mentioned ever acknowledge me. "Oh! And these are Year 10s." She points to the two other girls sitting at out table. I don't complain about her not bothering to use any of the new people's names. I don't want to be killed.

Charli, Leia, My and Liz all talk about trivial things, like how they think they should increase their diets to a small bowl of pasta and a salad each day, since they're getting 'fat'. They literally look like twigs. My talks about how she really loves this one chocolate bar, but she checked the packaging and it has too many calories so she decided she can have one a week, as long as she vomits it back up almost immediately after. This is more proof of how fucked up our school is.

They compare their boyfriends and how they dictate what they should wear, or how they can get a bit problematic sometimes, and then asks me a question: "Why is your hair so tight?" The question takes me by surprise, I've always worn six cornrows since year 7, and no one has ever questioned it. "Um...It lasts longer that way..?"

"But doesn't it, like, hurt?" Leia questions.

"A bit, but it's only once very few weeks." I reply with.

"Ew, that's so gross. You're meant to do your hair every day!" Liz chimes in.

"It's because she's Jamaican, dummy!" My says.

Even though she's oriental, as the only ethnic minority sitting with us I thought she would be better.

"I'm actually Ghanaian-Portugese but...It's fine...Anyway..." I mumble.

They carry on talking amongst themselves like nothing happened. And when lunch is over, I don't see them again until Charli gets into the same train carriage as me.