After Krista died, Emily became more obsessed with being thin. She wanted to make her friend proud, wherever she was. "70," she read aloud off of the scale. "Almost there!"
Just then, there was a knocking on the bathroom door. "Honey, can I come in?"
It was her mom, and she sounded puzzled or worried. "Sure," Emily said, kicking the scale away and folding her arms over her chest. "What is it?"
"Listen, hon," her mom said, walking in, her cheeks streaked with tears. "Your father and I are very worried about you."
"Your weight, honey," her mother began, but Emily cut her off.
"I know I'm fat, mom!" she screamed, pinching her non-existent flab. "I'm working on it!"
"No, honey, no! That's just it! You're not fat! You're so skinny! Your cheeks are sinking in!" She poked her daughter's cheek and gasped, then cleared her throat to keep a whimper from escaping. "I'm terrified for you, honey. That's how...how Krista died. She was too skinny."
Emily laughed and shook her head. "There's no such thing as too skinny, Mom...look, I know I'm fat. Let me work on it. It's like a diet."
"No, sweetie," her mother said with a deep sigh. "Your father and I are so worried about you, and what you're doing to your body isn't healthy. We've booked an appointment with the doctor, and if it's as serious as we think that it is, we'll be admitting you to the hospital."