I sit at breakfast with a gurgling stomach and pounding head after forcing myself to get up, despite getting in so late, and I am trying to appear normal for the sake of my parents. My mom eyes me warily but hasn’t said much as I pick at my granola, trying to keep it down.

“I don’t know if it’s the hair, but you look pale and washed out, more than usual.” My father interjects into my thoughts as he regards me over his paper. I keep my eyes on my plate and don’t respond. ...