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constantly gazing at herself in the mirrors and sucking in her stomach (such as it is). (2) She changed the subject when I suggest a snack in the food court. (3) She’s being weird about clothes.
    We’re browsing in Carswell-Hayes. I find this retro ‘70’s skirt—very cool, very Maggie—so I hold it up. She feels the material and makes a face. Then she says, “Too clingy” and turns away.
    I’m not expecting this reaction. I mean, clingy dresses are made for figures like Maggie’s. and size 4 is plenty big for her, anyway.
    This is what I mean, Nbook. She thinks she’s too fat. I’m thinking, Is this bizarre or what?
    But it’s not bizarre at all. It’s typical behaviour of an anorexic. I know that from the article
    So. Time to talk, right?
    Right.
    But I don’t want to be obvious. I figure I’ll lead into it gently. In a roundabout way,
    I talk about clothes. I talk about movies. TV. CDs. Homework.
    We have a lovely conversation. About nothing. Then we go home.
    And now I feel like a total chicken.
    Me. Loudmouthed, opinionated, honest Amalia.
    WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

5:21
    James is wrong with me. That’s what.
    He changed me. Made me guarded. Cautious.
    True, we didn’t go out for very long. True, I broke up with him when he turned into an abusive jerk.
    But you know what, Nbook? “Breaking up” is the wrong phrase. You don’t break.
    Not totally. Now when the breakee still wants to get back together. And he sends you notes and puts little unwanted gifts in your locker and stares at you in the hallway and generally makes your life tense and miserable.
    After awhile, the fire is sucked out of you.
    Well, no more. Today I stop feeling sorry for myself.
    Face it, Vargas. Things aren’t as bad as they used to be. James is fading. The notes have stopped. He’s losing interest. Which ie exactly what I wanted.
    No more excuses. It’s back to the Old Amalia.
    002
    I tell Mami my thoughts about Maggie. She said, “Its never too late to talk to her.”
    I say, “I’ll take her to dinner at Body-Soul Joy.” And she says, “I’ll drive you.”
    I am so glad to have a mom like her.
    So I call Maggie right away. B-SJ is super macrobiotic, low fat, etc., and I’m sure it’s about the only restaurant she’ll even think of entering.
    She says no thanks. But I insist.
    And I win.
    We’re meeting there at 6:30. Between now and then, I;m going back to that Teen’zine article. Especially the section about how to talk to your friend.
    Details tonight.
    9:27 P.M.
    Everything perfect. We get a table outside, on the die walk, where we can people watch. Leonardo DiCaprio is our waiter (well, a clone anyway). The smells from the kitchen are making me drool.
    I’m a little nervous. The truth is, even thought Maggie and I have become pretty good friends, we’re just not that close yet. We’ve never really confined in each other.
    I’m trying to ignore all that as Leo brings our menus.
    003
    004
    She’s embarrassed, uncomfortable.
    I’m remembering all the stuff I read in Teen’zine I’m supposed to
    - Focus on Maggie, not her eating.
    - Ask questions for clarification.
    - Be supportive and caring.
    - Understand that recovery is her responsibility, not mine.
    - Use “I” statements: “I feel like I’m losing you.” “I’m afraid you’re going to hurt yourself.”
    I’m not supposed to
    - Nag.
    - Criticize.
    - Pry.
    - Control.
    - Give advice unless asked.
    - Give “You” statements, like “You need help.” Especially stay away from “You’re too thin.” This is encouraging her, telling her what she wants to hear. Also, for future reference, is she started gaining, don’t say “You look good with some extra weight.”
    She’ll just lost the weight again.)
    That’s all.
    Nbook, it’s easy enough to write this stuff. But try to remember it while you’re having a conversation. Impossible .
    Everything’s jumbling up in my head. I’m totally tongue-tied.
    It doesn’t help that practically the