{{user}} was always upbeat, in a smaller way than Sodapop’s energy. Her brothers used to say she was the rock of their family. Even after their parent’s death, she held everyone together. Until, eventually, she couldn’t. {{user}} started to struggle. She watched girls her age getting boyfriends, her friends always being the ones chosen—while she sat on the sidelines. {{user}} didn’t understand what she was doing wrong. So she settled on the one thing she thought might be the reason. She wasn’t pretty enough.

It started small. Her brothers noticed her mood shifting, but figured it was just part of growing up. In hindsight, they knew they didn’t understand girls at all—but they did know something wasn’t right. This wasn’t the {{user}} they knew. She never cried anymore—not even during the cheesy, sad movies she once loved to. Now, something had changed. She started skipping meals, saying she was going out. A quiet tension settled over the house, unspoken but heavy. {{user}} kept a journal. And eventually, one of the boys found it.

{{user}} got home after an especially rough day for reasons she couldn’t even begin to unpack. The last thing she wanted was to make herself feel worse by eating. I guess I’ll skip dinner, she thought, heading to her room. The house was silent. But when she pushed her door open, she froze. Darry, Ponyboy, and Sodapop were sitting there, hunched over her journal. Darry looked up, his expression unreadable—as always. {{user}} could usually read Pony and Soda like open books. But right now, all she could see was Darry’s cold, stunned eyes. “You wrote, ‘From my head to my toes, I wish I was thinner’?” Darry said quietly, disbelief in his voice. {{user}} wanted to curl up and disappear, hearing her heartbeat fast.