Free The Stone Girl by Alyssa B. Sheinmel Page A

rearranges it so that it’s folded neatly on the floor. She pulls the sheets around her only so that she can put them in between all the parts of her that stick; between her knees and ankles, her arms and the sides of her torso. Her warm tears only make her hotter. She takes a Valium to fall asleep. Janey gave her a handful weeks ago, her mother’s prescription. They didn’t even have to sneak it out of the medicine cabinet, since Janey’s parents are never home anyway.
    This hot, Sethie can’t even pretend that the pillow where she rests her head is Shaw’s chest; if Shaw were here, she’d never be so warm.
    Sethie is happy to have school in the morning. She’s happy that she doesn’t go to the same school as Shaw and Janey, and she’s happy that finals are coming up and she has so much work to do. She’s even happy that she has a school uniform, because she honestly doesn’t think she could decide so much as what to wear anymore.
And after school, she still doesn’t answer her phone. She can see that the battery is almost dead, but she decides
    137 not to charge it. She sits on the floor of her room and she studies, and she takes another Valium to fall asleep, and she drinks cold water, but she still feels hot.
    Sethie hasn’t gone to the bathroom in five days. She’s peed, of course, but she hasn’t had a bowel movement in five days. She began recording them in her food journal almost a month ago: December 3rd, 4 p.m. half a bagel with peanut butter for lunch, shat, three pieces of cinnamon Trident during class. But now, she hasn’t gone for days. She feels bloated; she knows that if she could just shit, she would lose more weight. Tonight, finally, she goes; she has terrible diarrhea. On the toilet, she doubles over so that her chest is resting on her thighs. She wishes she had a clock in her bathroom, so that she would know how long she’s been going for. She wonders if her stomach has ever hurt this much; she wonders which food it was that triggered this. Some unwashed lettuce in the salad she had for lunch, perhaps, or bad fish in her sushi last night (some of it must have stayed down). In the toilet, she can see whole pieces of the food she ate, completely undigested. In her journal she writes: Shitty shits. Finally.
§ § §
    On Thursday, Shaw is waiting for her after school. Sethie is wearing her coat unbuttoned; her body still can’t get cool.
“Hey, kiddo,” he says, and he turns on his heel in the direction of Sethie’s apartment. Sethie follows him.
    138 “I brought you some hot chocolate,” Shaw says, pressing a cup into Sethie’s hands. Some of the drink spills out of the cup onto her fingers. It’s already cold from having been held by Shaw, but Sethie doesn’t mind. Maybe it will cool her off.
“Why?” Sethie asks.
    “You’re always cold,” Shaw answers, shrugging. “And anyway, you never eat enough.”
Sethie smiles. That’s right, she thinks, I barely eat anything at all. But she sips the hot chocolate, even though Shaw probably doesn’t know that you’re supposed to order it with skim milk, and you should never get whipped cream. She sips it because Shaw’s given it to her, and she sips it because she’s only had coffee and a low-fat granola bar so far today: she honestly can’t seem to stop herself from sipping it.
“I think your phone is broken,” Shaw says as they walk.
“Yeah,” Sethie says. “It might be.” Sethie likes the idea that Shaw has been trying to call her. And Sethie follows him into the vacant apartment like nothing has changed.
“I heard they rented this place,” she says when he passes her the joint.
“Thought they never would.”
“Me too.”
Shaw takes a long hit and says, “Listen, Sethie, I know Janey told you about Anna.”
Sethie shakes her head. “Anna?” The name sounds familiar in Shaw’s voice.
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    “Janey told me she told you. You met her, remember? At the frat house.”
Sethie thinks. “I’m not sure,” she says