Chapter 7—Here to Help
Lydia wished her soda was larger. Then she could dunk her head into it and not have to face the world. Instead, all she could do was sit at the far table in the mall’s arcade and stare at the swirling ice cubes in her drink.
She liked the arcade. Dark and noisy, with plenty of people playing games, it was easy here to avoid any truancy officers on patrol. The only two people who knew about her were the arcade owner, who was always a welcoming sort, and Dariela, who had shown her the spot during one of Lydia’s rare excursions outside of school. So she wasn’t startled when Dariela found her half an hour later.
“Hey, Dar,” she said, slurring the greeting as she sipped her drink.
“Hey,” Dariela said, dropping her backpack beside Lydia’s. She tossed her friend the missing glove and Lydia slid it back onto her hand slowly, biting her lip as she did so. “How’s your hand?”
“It hurts a little. I’m in trouble, huh.” It wasn’t even a question. She knew what she’d have to face from Retter and the principal. That was nothing, compared to what her parents would say. She’d hidden her ditching before, but this? How would they react?
“Yeah,” Dariela said, crossing her arms on the table. “Mark made a big deal about the whole thing, but that wuss wasn’t bleeding or anything after you hit him.”
“Do you think he was affected by those chemicals, like me? Or maybe I’m not that strong after all.” Lydia had given a lot to the punch, unpleasant to her hand as it had been.
“You know that you are, Lydia,” Dariela said. “Maybe you didn’t hit him as hard as you think you did. But Retter actually believed me when I said that Mark started it. So he’s in trouble, too.”
“Really?” That was a small reprieve for Lydia. Misery did indeed love company. “That’s something. Thanks.”
“No problem. Don’t worry about hitting him,” Dariela said, leaning back. “I would’ve done it if you hadn’t.”
“I know,” Lydia said, setting aside her drink. “But that’s not what’s bothering me. Well, it is, but. ..”
Dariela picked up on it. She leaned in closer. In that dim light, Lydia could just make out her friend’s eyes searching her own. “It’s what he said. That it?”
Lydia nodded and hung her head. “Covered up, I look fat. Without big clothes, I look like I should be on the cover of a fitness magazine. It wouldn’t be as bad if I had played sports or something and gotten like this naturally, but everyone knows I don’t play. They probably already know that the lab accident caused it. You know how secrets get out at our school. So I’m considered a freak. ‘The girl who got freakishly strong!’ ” she said, spreading her hands in the air as if reading a sign. “But natural or not, it doesn’t matter. I look weird. I feel weird.”
“First of all, drop the fat thing,” Dariela said, holding up a finger. “Put that out of your mind right now. Mark is not one to talk. That dude is so fat and out of shape, he gets winded climbing stairs.” Lydia giggled a little and Dariela added a second finger. “Two, in any fitness magazines, fashion magazines, or any kinds of magazines, you would look good. And I’m not saying that because now you can pound me into the ground.”
Lydia rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight the upward tug of her lips as her friend continued. “Honestly, I’d kill for your stomach. Mine’s all flabby.” Dariela grabbed her small gut and leaned over, making it look larger than it was. She shook it up and down with furious exaggeration. “Last of all, yeah, the whole school probably knows. But who cares about them? Whether they think you’re a freak or not, you’re still you. I see the same Lydia, so forget about all that.”
Dariela stuffed her hand into her pocket and pulled out a handful of quarters. “What you should worry about is me kicking your butt on every game in here.”
Lydia smirked and stood up. “You’re on.”
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Halfway Heroes Page 12
