Girls Under Pressure by Jacqueline Wilson Page A

breath.
    Magda got out ages ago. She was barely
in
. She swam about ten measly lengths, keeping her head artificially high out of the water so that her hair wouldn’t get messed up, and then she was off back to the changing room to replenish her makeup.
    She’s hogging the mirror now, applying the finishing touches.
    “Right, Ellie. See you in the café, OK?” she says. “I don’t want to miss Mick—
if
he’s actually here.”
    Zoë and I take a shower. We’re very modest, looking away from each other as we soap ourselves under the streaming water, but once we’re toweling dry and stuffing damp bodies into underwear I take a quick glance at her when I’ve put my glasses on. I stare.
    Zoë is thin. Not just slender. Not even skinny. Her ribs are sticking out of her skin, her pelvis juts alarmingly, her arms and legs look as if they’re about to snap.
    “Zoë!” I wonder if she’s ill. I’ve never seen anyone this thin before. She looks
awful
.
    “What?” she says, looking anxious.
    “You’ve lost so much weight!”
    “Not really. Not enough. Not yet,” says Zoë.

turkey girl
    I ’m not stupid. I know Zoë’s sick. She’s obviously anorexic. She’s not thin and beautiful. She’s thin and sad. Thin and mad. She’s starving herself. She looks like a living skeleton. There’s nothing desirable about her gaunt body, her jutting bones, her beaky features.
    I don’t want to end up like Zoë.
    I eat chicken and broccoli and baked potatoes for supper. I even put butter inside my potatoes and follow my first course with chocolate ice cream and extra chocolate sauce.
    “Thank God,” says Dad. “I was so sick of that stupid diet. Have you seriously seen sense at last, Ellie?”
    “You bet,” I say, running to the fridge and getting out a second carton of chocolate ice cream.
    “Me too,” says Anna, getting her own bowl.
    It feels so wonderful to eat my meal slowly, savoring every mouthful. I feel full and warm and peaceful. I chat to Anna, I chat to Dad, I even chat to Eggs. I don’t shut myself away in my bedroom after supper. I curl up on the sofa in the living room. Dad brings out his all-time favorite video, the one he loves us all to watch together when we’re playing happy families.
The Wizard of Oz.
    I get a little tense watching Judy Garland at first. Is she too fat or is she just fine? She’s thin compared to me. But when she steps out of her little gray house into the color of Oz I step with her and stop worrying. I just sit back and enjoy the movie.
    I take Eggs up to bed, singing, “Follow, follow, follow, follow,
follow
the purple stair cord,” and we do a little Munchkin dance on the landing. His arms wind tight round my neck as I tuck him up in bed.
    “I love you, Ellie,” he whispers.
    “I love you too, Eggs,” I whisper back.
    I wonder why I’m usually so mean to him. I don’t feel like being mean to anyone now. I even give myself a grin in the mirror when I go into my bedroom. I have a tiny panic when I get undressed. My full tummy looks so big. I stand sideways and peer in the mirror to see just how much it’s sticking out. But then I pull my nightie on quick and jump into bed. I think about the film. I click my bare heels in their invisible ruby slippers over and over again.
    I try to cling to this new common sense next day at school. It’s not easy. I feel so dumpy in my tight uniform. Nadine’s skirt hangs so gracefully on her, in real folds. Mine is so taut it feels like my knees are tied together. Nadine’s sweater is so loose. Mine is strained over the jutting shelf of my chest. I stare at everyone. They all look much thinner than me. I can’t seem to help myself. I even start staring at poor huge Alison Smith and wonder if we’re of similar size.
    I try to calm down in art. Mrs. Lilley says we can paint any kind of Christmas scene we fancy—and offers us a chocolate Father Christmas as a prize for the most amusing and original effort.
    Magda does a glamorous