by Box Set
“He’s a sophomore,” Johnny said.
I shook my head at them. “Your cousin is being bullied and you want to help, but you don’t even let him hang around with you guys?”
Johnny blushed. “He’s kind of weird.”
“And big,” the tall kid said. “Fat.”
“Why would anybody treat him decently when his own cousin won’t?” I asked. “His own younger cousin.”
Johnny looked down at the desk.
“If you want to help, then you need to start by actually helping,” I snapped. “I do know people who can help too, but you have to do your part.” I glowered at them. “What’s his name?”
“Mundo,” the tall kid said.
Mundo? As in Spanish for world? I sighed. Smacking these three upside the head would not solve the problem. “His real name.”
Johnny answered softly. “Alex Smith.”
“Okay then,” I said. “Maybe you guys should practice calling him Alex.”
“Other people call him worse,” the tall kid said. “Mundo isn’t so bad.”
“We’ll stop,” said the third kid. “We’ll call him Alex.”
Okay then. “My friends and I will be watching,” I said. “So be sure that you do.”
It wouldn’t be easy to keep an eye on freshmen. Since Alex was only a sophomore, we’d have to go out of our way to check on him. We would though.
Poor fat kid. I knew exactly how it felt to get picked on because of your weight. I’d started overeating when I started school. With room mothers and constant assignments about our families, kindergarten and first grade had been tough. I started to feel like everybody had a mother but me. I’d finally started losing weight in the fourth grade when my after-school sitter, a neighbor, dragged me along to her hip hop aerobics class. The class had women of all ages and sizes, and I didn’t feel like I had to sit really still so nobody saw my fat jiggle.
I’d gotten lucky. I’d fallen in love with dance, and I’d taken all kinds of classes over the years. Not ballet or tap though. Those first hurtful memories of being compared to a dancing hippo in first grade had never left. I’d preferred hip hop, African dance, jazz and modern dance. That’s right. This white girl can seriously dance.
In middle school, I’d spent the afternoons at the Boys and Girls Club. At first, the only activities there were basketball, homework, and video games. I’d decided to start teaching some of the younger girls hip hop. By the end of the first week, I had thirty kids, mostly younger than me, dancing too.
Some of the kids were self-conscious, either because of their weight or because they were all elbows and knees. I worked with them separately, usually on the stage with the curtains pulled. Eventually, I’d convince them to work with the larger group. The best way to do this was to secretly show them the move I was going to teach next. That way they came into the class prepared to make that move look like it was easy. Not everybody of course. Some of them had issues with rhythm. But a lot of them were fearless and had so much fun they didn’t care what anybody thought.
I’d cut back in high school to teaching them once a week. Now that I had Oliver, I only taught every other week. Oliver had taken my class for four years, and he was now in eighth grade. Oliver had it going on, and he was able to teach without me. Even the older kids listened to him. He could easily grow up to be a dancer.
The thing was that even adults made fun of fat people. Movies, authors, comedians. There might be a zero tolerance for bullying in the schools, but there wasn’t in the real world. Kids picked up on that pretty early, and many of them didn’t even try to hide their hate.
Since I was still a fat kid inside, I took it all very personally. Sure, I’d gotten lucky and found dance. I’d managed to gain some self-confidence and to get over some of my issues with missing out on a mother. Over the years I’d learned that a lot of kids who did have mothers had it worse than I did. Not many had the kind of dad and brother I did. Some didn’t have anybody in their corner at all.
I wasn’t super-skinny now, and I feared a long struggle with weight was in my future. Right now though, I was fine. I was healthy and I didn’t stand out because of my weight. And I could do my part for Alex. Hearst would have some ideas.
I slipped back into trig as if I hadn’t been gone forever. My teacher wasn’t going to ask why I was in the bathroom for so long. The trick to high school was to make sure the teachers trusted you. That way, they’d assume the best. Townsey missed twenty minutes of class? Poor girl must have some tummy issues. Half the other kids would never have gotten away with it. My brother taught me that trick for middle school. Be perfect for the first six weeks, participate in class, turn in your work, pay attention, and then you could coast on the good will. Worked like a charm. Of course, hanging around Hearst had tarnished my reputation a bit with the teachers, but then Sister Paulinus had decided I was trying to help him reach his potential. Bang Bang. Everybody else fell right in line.
Felicity raised a brow at me.
I shook my head.
When the bell rang, she leaned over to say, “You’re out of luck, Towns. You missed the whole explanation. No way are you going to be able to do the homework.”
Probably not, but I did have my secret weapon.
Liz stood up and came around to my desk. “Where were you?”
I glanced at the teacher who had heard the question and then back at my friend. “Graham made a casserole last night.”
Liz jumped away as if I had the plague.
“Ew,” Felicity said. “When we get married, he’s never allowed in the kitchen.” She whipped out her phone and started texting.
“If you start this again, I’m de-friending you,” I said.
“You need me,” she replied. “You need help with the trig assignment.”
I glanced at Liz. “Yeah, well, I think Liz has me covered.”
Felicity scowled. “Just because she’s Asian doesn’t mean she’s better at math than me.”
Not this again.
“Duh,” Liz answered. “I’m better at math than you because I’m better at math than you.”
“And me. She’s wicked good at math, Felicity. So suck it up and let’s move on,” I said.
Liz’s single mother put a ton of pressure on her to excel in school. I didn’t think it was an Asian thing. It was more of a single mom wanting the best for her child thing.
We all moved out to the hall where the chaos made it harder to talk.
Felicity had A’s in math too, but she wasn’t as patient a teacher as Liz. And Felicity was highly distractible. Usually by boys. She also had demonstrated that she could not function for ten seconds without checking her phone. Not that I didn’t have my own issues, but she was constantly checking social media.
Felicity was in a snit though, and I knew a surefire way to pull her out of it. I got my phone out of my pocket and pulled up Graham’s picture from yesterday. “Want to see my brother wearing makeup?”
Liz said, “Omgys.” She could talk faster than anybody I’d ever met. If I could have slowed it down, I would have heard, “Oh my God, yes!”
I handed my phone to Liz who immediately enlarged it for a closer view.
“Wow,” Felicity said from over Liz’s shoulder. “He’s better at putting makeup on than you are, Townsey.”
I stuck my tongue out at her. “I put it on him, psycho.”
“Really?” Liz asked. “You did a really good job. I didn’t know you could… I mean, you must have spent a long time working on it.”
I gave her an exaggerated sneer.
“What?” Liz said. “Felicity started it.”
I shifted my gaze to Felicity before crossing my eyes and twisting my face into what I hoped was both horrifying and threatening.
“Aah!” Liz screeched.
“Make it stop,” Felicity cried. “You’re scaring people.”
People? But not Felicity? I relaxed my face and started to say something to Felicity when I caught Noah st
aring right at me. It was one of those moments I would have relished normally because he was a total cutie. But he’d just seen me make the most unattractive face in the history of faces. I searched his expression for any signs of humor but there were none.
I looked down at the floor finally, losing my nerve. Good thing I didn’t have a crush on him anymore.
“Next time I’m taking your picture and making it my profile pic on everything,” Liz said.
“Or we could use it as a visual rape whistle or vampire repellant. Hold it up and nobody comes near you,” Felicity said, holding my phone as if it were a crucifix.
Cute boy repellant apparently. I snatched my phone back. “We’re late,” I said. I started walking toward my next class with my friends trailing behind. Unfortunately, Noah stood right next to my path.
I couldn’t bear to look at him as we approached.
“It doesn’t matter that you are terrible with makeup, Townsey,” Liz said. “You don’t need it anyway.”
Oh God. Please shut up.
“Except when your face breaks out really bad,” Felicity said. “Remember that one time that you had that giant—”
We were passing Noah and he no doubt was hearing every word.
I turned to face her. “Felicity,” I screeched. “Would you please SHUT UP!”
Felicity and Liz looked at me like I was crazy, and the hall got eerily quiet. I didn’t look around. I simply turned and stomped off to my class.
Seriously. How much humiliation did I have to deal with in one day? Was Felicity that oblivious? She couldn’t have embarrassed me more if she had tried.
This time they didn’t follow me. But by the time I sat down in class, my phone had buzzed three times in my pocket. Somebody was texting. Liz probably. I doubted Felicity was speaking to me at this point.
I opened my American History book and tried to calm down. It wasn’t like me to let a boy get to me like that. To let myself be provoked to public drama. I avoided drama. I prided myself on keeping my cool. I didn’t freak in the middle of the hall and yell at one of my best friends. Sure, I’d had a crush on him from fifth grade until… pretty recently. But I didn’t anymore, and I shouldn’t have been so freaked out. Being a PI was like being a spy, I needed nerves of steel. I needed to be able to talk my way out of any situation without losing my poise.
The hour passed slowly, and I didn’t learn a thing. I needed to apologize to Felicity. Maybe if I got Graham to let her apply the foundation, she’d forgive me. That’s right. I wasn’t above using my brother if necessary.
The problem was really that I couldn’t explain myself with words. I couldn’t. Talking my way out of a situation with fake excuses was one thing. Honestly discussing epically deep emotions, even with my best friends, was much harder. I’d never manage to do it verbally. I’d have to write it down.
I pulled out a piece of notebook paper and started writing. “What you saw, me being a total tentacle. What you didn’t see…”
I used one of Liz’s favorite non-curse words.
Now if Felicity would read it.
* * *
Hearst was waiting outside the door of my class. I sighed and kept walking.
He kept stride with me and said, “What happened to you? Where did Susie Sunshine go?”
“I am not Susie Sunshine.”
“Not now, you aren’t,” he said.
“Not ever. I yelled at Felicity today, and I don’t even really know why. Now she’s mad and she should be angry, and I don’t have the energy to deal with all the groveling and apologizing I’m going to have to do.”
“Oh.” We walked a little further, and he said, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Do you want to talk about what happened earlier with the freshmen?”
“No, but I guess we should discuss your mini-me’s and their problem.”
“They aren’t my mini-me’s.”
“If you say so Mike the Mortician.”
“Huh?”
“It’s my new name for you. If I’m Susie Sunshine, then you are Mike the Mortician.”
He frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Should fit you just fine then.”
Hearst’s eyes widened. “You’re actually mean today, Townsey.” He glanced around. “Is it… a girl thing?”
A cheerleader, one of the many girls vying to be Hearst’s next ex-girlfriend, chose that moment to interrupt and quite possibly saved his life. She hooked her arm through his and looked up at his face. “Ooh, you got another piercing. I love it! It’s fierce.”
“Wait,” I said, examining the blonde. “Haven’t you dated this one already?”
Hearst shrugged.
“I was going to get a nose ring,” she chattered on, “but my mother was all like, ‘over my dead body after I paid for that nose.’” She stopped and squeezed his bicep. “So strong,” she said in awe.
“We can talk later,” I said to my friend.
He didn’t respond. He really couldn’t since the girl was now going from one arm to the other trying to decide which muscle was harder.
“Come on,” she cooed. “Flex.”
Somehow this nutcase actually thought that a guy whose whole shtick was that he didn’t care and made no effort might want to put on a gun show in the hallway.
* * *
Liz stopped me right inside the door to the cafeteria. “She isn’t speaking to you.”
I wasn’t surprised.
“What happened back there?” she asked. “Why did you flip out?”
I handed Liz the note. “Try to get her to read it. You can read it too.” I started walking to the counter to get my lunch. “I’ll eat outside today. I can’t take any more drama.”
“Yeah, about that,” Liz said. “Felicity is eating in the courtyard because she doesn’t want to deal with your drama.”
I winced. “I’ll eat in here then.”
Liz looked down at the folded square of notebook paper. “I don’t know if she’ll read it,” she said.
“I don’t either,” I said. I watched as Liz went out the door to the courtyard. How had today taken such a turn for the cray cray?
After securing my lunch of a square, processed fish patty on a bun and extra tartar sauce with which to disguise any undesirable qualities of said fish patty, I went and sat at a table near the back of the cafeteria.
Sitting alone in a crowded cafeteria shouldn’t have been a problem. It was one day. I had friends who loved me. They just didn’t so much love me today. There were kids who sat alone every day. Kids with serious problems. Today had been tough, but I could manage one stupid lunch period alone at this table.
I carefully squeezed one of my packets of tartar sauce onto half the fish and then took my knife to evenly distribute it.
“That looks delicious,” Hearst said as he pulled out the chair across from me.
Oh thank God. I didn’t have to eat alone. “Hi!” I practically yelled in greeting.
He pulled a paper lunch sack out of his backpack and set it on the table.
“Wow,” he said. “You’re in a much better mood than you were earlier.”
I shrugged. “Just glad to see you.” I glanced around. “I see you managed to shake the cheerleader.” I opened the other packet and squirted the contents onto my sandwich. “I don’t know why you waste your time with girls like that.” There were decent girls at this school who would be good for him.
“She is a good kisser though.”
Wait. Ew. “Are you kidding me? You actually stuck your tongue in that girl’s mouth? What if you punctured the air pocket she uses instead of a brain?”
He shrugged and pulled out his signature lunch, two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and an apple.
“You really should be more discriminating,” I said.
He didn’t answer. Instead he bit into the apple.
“It’s a good thing you can’t catch stupid,” I mumbled.
“Can
’t cure it either,” he answered.
I opened my bottle of water and took a sip. “Okay, so, I met with the mini-yous.”
He shook his head. “Poor kids. They freaked when the office told them they’d have to pay fines.”
“You were there?”
“Not yet. But the secretary told me later.”
The school secretary was in her fifties and mean as a snake, to everyone but Hearst. He had managed to charm even her. Every woman loved a bad boy apparently. Well, except the nuns.
“Can they afford the fines?” I doubted it. The school had hiked up the fines on everything, including overdue library books in order to rake in as much of Hearst’s family’s money as possible.
“I’m paying the fines,” he said. “Well, my parents are. Since I misused my influence and messed with their little freshmen heads.” He paused. “The principal’s words. Not mine. So what’s up with them? Are they being bullied?”
“Not them. In fact, they were quick to let me know that they are above being bullied.” I rolled my eyes. Then I pulled out my phone and showed him the picture Johnny had texted me earlier. “The cousin of one of them. He’s a sophomore.”
Hearst looked at the picture and then at me. “So this one is a bit personal?”
“Don’t mess with the fat kids,” I said and popped my knuckles.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah. It’s personal. You’ve already got some ideas?”
I did. I had my usual idea. Send him to hang out with the hip hop kids. “I know you think I send them all there but I really don’t.”
He reached out and patted me on the head. “You’re so adorable.”
“I haven’t identified the bullies yet,” I said.
“No problem. I’ve got it. I’ve got a few ideas myself.” He took another bite of the apple.
Hearst would attack the bullies from all angles. His favorite recently, had been the internet.
“Don’t forget our pact,” I said.
“Right,” he said, picking at the chipped black polish on his thumbnail. “No overkill.”
I frowned and crossed my arms. “That isn’t the wording we decided to go with.”
