"Wow. How did you get so fat eating salads? You must really pig out after school."
The pyric words had curdled the already churning contents of her stomach. Hundreds of eyes had followed and marked her rush to the bathroom; she still felt their judgement tattooed on her back. Eric had been among them, Eric with his lithe body and shock of blonde hair which he continually flicked from his eyes. His T.M.B. was still archived on her phone. Sorry. It's not working out. She knew the reason.
Now it was gone, and she felt not only thinner, but oddly weightless. The money she'd saved up could go toward new clothes, makeup, fitness classes. They'd stop whispering and staring. She's get Eric back, too.
Cold rain was sheeting down, plastering her dress to her legs. Just as well; it would be far worse to do it on a warm, starlit night. She slid the door of the dumpster open, dropped the forlorn bundle in amongst the spilth and dashed back to the chiaroscuro of neon signs, oily puddles and shadows on Main Street.
She would always look at children of a certain age, and wonder.