Hunger Read Online Free PDF Page A

Yellow, nasty grease that will coat your thighs and butt and hips, and add to the wings under your arms.
    Lisa imagined the cheese fry, pictured dipping it into a blob of catsup. She practically tasted the heady combination of starch and sweetness and salt, covered with slick, bubbly cheese, slightly browned.
    Her stomach gurgled.
    Panicked, she covered her belly with her hand to muffle the sound. James didn't notice, thank God. He sat across from her, smiling, his posture relaxed, except for the tiny ridge between his eyes. Lisa thought of it as his worry line. It almost made her laugh: here she was, on the verge of a breakdown over the Pavlovish power of french fry odor, but James was the one worrying. About her, probably. At times, he could be so overprotective.
    Well, one fry would soothe his fears. That would prove she wasn't some basket case, no matter what her so-called friend Suzanne had to say.
    The Thin voice sniffed its derision.
You're weak. You're fat because you're weak.
    Over her stomach, Lisa's hand balled into a fist. Her nails bit into the meat of her palm, and through the pain she told herself not to cry—not in front of James, out here where everyone could see. The diner was crowded—it was Saturday night, after all, and everyone knew that Joe's had the best cheap food in town. They'd said hi to a handful of kids from school, all hanging out at the diner until it was time to hit the movies, or the pool hall, or the bowling alley. Too many people were here. Lisa absolutely, positively couldn't cry. God, she wanted to go home.
    "Hey," James said, his voice startled. "What's wrong?"
    She painted on a smile. "Nothing."
    "You look upset."
    "I'm good," she said, just as her phone buzzed. She slipped it out of her pocket and saw that it was a message from Tammy:
UR BOY IS HAWT
    Lisa glanced around until she spotted Tammy four tables down, sitting with about ten other people. She texted back:
HE IS
    She didn't have anything else to say, so she let it go at that. Knowing Tammy was in the diner made her rethink the french fry choice. Lisa should've known the other girl would be here; Tammy came to Joe's often. But then, Tammy's house was not even two minutes away; she didn't have to worry about public stalls to take care of her snacking. It certainly saved her from having to bring a barf bag with her.
    Lisa sipped her diet soda and fretted. If only she had as much control as Tammy. If only she could bring herself to vomit, she wouldn't be sitting here, freaking out over one stupid cheese fry.
    You're weak
, the Thin voice said again. And Lisa agreed.
    Another buzz. This time, the message said:
WHAT R U GONNA EAT?
    Lisa texted back:
LETTUCE & DC
    James slurped his soda, probably because he knew it annoyed her. He asked, "Who's texting you when you're out on such a hot date?"
    "It's just Tammy."
    "Ah."
    That one word held a dictionary's worth of meaning, ranging from "I forgot you're friends with her" to "She's nasty." James didn't like Tammy. Lisa couldn't fathom why. Tammy was funny and smart and understanding. Anger bubbled in Lisa's belly. At times, James could be so mean.
    But he was a guy. Guys didn't get things the way girls did; the way Tammy did, anyway. Tammy was a good friend—her best friend. Faithful—completely unlike Suzanne.
    Buzz. Lisa glanced at her phone. The message read:
UR SO GOOD
    That made Lisa smile. Fortified with Tammy's approval, Lisa sipped her Diet Coke. No french fry for her. Soon they'd leave Joe's and be on their way to the movie. In the darkness of the theater, she'd sit with James's hand in hers and her head on his shoulder, and for that little pocket of time, she'd be comforted and safe from everything, from the Thin voice and her own scorn. She'd watch the movie, and she'd be happy, if only for a little while.
    James said something funny, and Lisa laughed. His worry line eased, and the two fell into the dating routine they had perfected over the past year. Lisa allowed herself