Diary of a Mad Fat Girl

by Stephanie McAfee

  “Heard from Chloe?” Ethan asks over a mound of eggs, bacon, biscuits, and hash browns.

  “No,” I sigh, “she changed her number and won’t respond to my emails.”

  “What?” Mason says and looks disgusted.

  “She’s done it before, a few years back,” I say, “and when she finally gave us her new number, she apologized for her stupidity and said it wouldn’t happen again.”

  “But it’s happened again,” Mason snaps, shaking his head. “That’s pretty sad.”

  “I want to go to her house and talk to her face-to-face,” Lilly says, “then help her pack her bags and get away from that shit bag.”

  “Don’t know if that’s gonna work out for you, Lil,” Ethan says, looking at his phone. “Gramma just texted and said she saw them going in the Baptist church across the street this morning.”

  “Gramma Allen knows how to text?” I ask in genuine shock.

  “Gramma Allen has an iPhone,” Ethan says proudly, “and she’s all eyes at church on Sundays.”

  “Hi-tech spy granny,” Lilly says and we all laugh.

  Our two vehicle convoy rolls back into Bugtussle just after lunch and I wake up and realize I’ve slobbered all over my shirt sleeve. Mason has invited himself to my place for a nap so Ethan turns off on Lilly’s street and we continue driving down to mine.

  Before I unlock the door, I make him swear there will be no funny business and, while showing him to the guest room, I find myself hoping he doesn’t honor that promise.

  I close the door to my bedroom and scold myself for being so ridiculous. I swear to myself that I will not have sex with him and I will not be mean to him, although I must admit that it’s easier not to have sex with him when I am being mean to him. The sad truth is that I’m dying to do it, consequences be damned, but I’m too old to act like that. But I can’t stop thinking about it. Sleeping in the same bed with him was nearly more than I could stand, even if he did fart all night long and into the morning.

  After napping in separate beds, we get dressed in separate rooms and I am proud of myself for not busting down the guest room door and jumping on his ass like a cheetah on an antelope. I wonder if he thought about making a move on me or if he was just in there snoozing and farting and being the perfect gentleman.

  Ethan and Lilly pick us up in the Escalade and we arrive at the majestic gates of The Waverly Estate at a quarter till four. The gate guard nods and opens the gate and instead of the peacock blue golf cart with a single seat, the golf cart chauffer appears in a peacock blue six-seater.

  “How many of these does she have?” I wonder aloud.

  “Probably a whole fleet,” Lilly whispers.

  The golf cart chauffer drops us off at a thatched roof patio that has a tile floor and a large teak wood table framed by six very comfortable looking chairs.

  Gloria Peacock hugs everyone and squeezes Mason’s cheeks and asks about his grandmother and his parents and blah blah blah. After a round of sweet tea and peacock shaped sugar cookies that look and taste like they came straight from Paula Dean’s kitchen, Gloria Peacock takes us on a different route through her majestic estate to the Mission Impossible room.

  “Before we tackle the Stacks’ issue, I have something for you girls.” Gloria Peacock says matter-of-factly. “I have prepared a slide show that I think you will find to be both informative and entertaining.” She smiles, “Are you ready?”

  “Yes ma’am!” I exclaim and I can’t wait to see what she’s put together with her super spy computer. What follows is a series of photographs of Catherine Hilliard engaged in various positions of sexual endeavor with the Bugtussle School District Superintendent, Ardie Griffith. In most of the shots, they are in the back of Catherine Hilliard’s Cadillac station wagon on top of what appears to be a piece of memory foam with a blue polka dotted sheet haphazardly spread over it.

  “Where are they parked?” I ask. “And why wouldn’t they pull that door closed?”

  “I guess it might get too hot in there,” Mason says and he and Ethan snort and laugh.

  “Just hold on and I’ll pan out so you can see.” She pans out and my jaw drops as I recognize the vo-tech building that’s right next to the high school. I quickly realize that it’s the perfect place to hide because the u-shaped building provides the ultimate privacy shield, plus the whole area is fenced and locked. And Ardie being the superintendent and all, I imagine it would be relatively easy for him to get a key.

  Where they went wrong was not knowing that their meeting spot was clearly visible from the rooftop of the People’s Bank where Omega Systems just happens to have an eye in the sky. That and not pulling that back door closed.

  For the record, Ardie Griffith is not a large man and Catherine Hilliard is a very large woman and together they make me think of a squirrel humping a sow pig. The disgusting slide show ends with a shot of them reclining in the back of the vehicle, smoking.

  “Wow,” I exclaim, “that explains those yellow teeth.”

  “I have copies for you Ace, in case things get hairy at school tomorrow,” she says and hands me a padded envelope. I get excited thinking about the damage I could do with just one of these pictures. “Now, I understand you have pictures from your wild night last night so let’s take a look at those.

  I give Mrs. Peacock the memory stick from Chloe’s camera and, after some arm waving, the magic computer monitor comes to life.

  The camera was set on continuous snap so there are several shots of the red carpet and the asphalt parking lot, but the most of the pictures captured the moment just as we’d hoped. The last one is a shot of Buster Loo with his eyeballs and his asshole both facing the lens.

  “Nice,” Ethan says and laughs.

  “Don’t make fun of my wiener, Ethan,” Mason whispers and punches him.

  “Oh man, those are good,” Lilly says quietly, “but this is going to kill her soul.”

  “She killed her soul when she married Richard Stacks,” I say. “This will be the beginning of the end of that.”

  “How are y’all gonna get ‘em to her?” Ethan asks. “I mean, how do you go about something like that?”

  “Don’t know,” Lilly says and I shrug.

  “What if she doesn’t care?” Mason asks. “What if, after all of this, she just looks at these pictures and is just like, ‘People make mistakes and I forgive him’?”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” I say quietly.

  “The Chloe we know and love is buried in there somewhere,” Lilly says, frowning. “I just hope it’s not too late to dig out that part of her that would never put up with crap like this.”

  “I’ve made every effort to have her here as a guest,” Gloria Peacock says, “I sent a few emails, then a card, and of course I called several times, but was never able to speak with her personally. The only response I received was a blunt email that basically said ‘thanks but no thanks’.”

  “She probably didn’t even get the card and the email was probably from Richard,” I say, feeling anger well up in my guts.

  “So what’s the plan?” Mason asks, clearly wanting to move things along.

  “Have you ever taken a needle and punched holes on either end of an egg and shook out all the yolk?” Gloria asks and Mason and Ethan exchange a what-the-hell-is-she-talking-about look.

  “Oh yeah,” Lilly says. “My students do that every year for cinco de mayo. They’re called cascarones.”

  “Did she say, ‘cajones’?” Mason whispers and Ethan shushes him.

  “Yes, so you understand how delicate and fragile the shell is?” Gloria Peacock replies, not hearing or completely ignoring Mason.

  “Of course, I have each student make five or six because a few are bound to break no matter how careful we are.”

  “Exactly,” Gloria Peacock says. “Chloe is that shell and her soul has been brandished from her so she must be handled with utmost care.” She looks from me to Lilly and we nod our heads in agreement. “Go see her,�
�� she says. “Go to her house and break it to her gently.”

  “What a metaphor,” I whisper in awe.

  “A what?” Ethan says.

  Gloria Peacock waves and points and her magic computer starts printing pictures, which she puts in another padded envelope and hands to me without a word. I look up at her and smile. She is officially my new idol.

  When Mason and I get back to my house, he asks to come inside. We have a few beers on the patio and he asks if he can spend the night. I want to take him to my bedroom, tie him to the bed post, and do unspeakable things to him, but I don’t. I tell him he’s welcome to sleep in the guestroom.

  “Again,” he whines.

  “Again,” I smile.

  35

  Monday morning I hop out of bed feeling like a million dollars earning twenty percent interest. I don’t know if it’s because Mason McKenzie is snoring away in my guestroom or because I somehow managed not to go in there and jump his bones or because I have an envelope full of glossy pictures of that hussy Catherine Hilliard getting boned by that twerp Ardie Griffith. Ha.

  I get to school twenty minutes early and set out to find Coach Hatter. I walk through the gym and into the athletic office without even knocking.

  “What are you doing in here?” Coach Wills asks with a look of pure disdain on his broad, oily face.

  “Shut the hell up, Wills. If I want to hear your mouth, I’ll rattle your cage, okay?”

  The other coaches hoot and holler and I look at Coach Lawson, the head football coach, and ask him where I might find Logan Hatter. I’m dying to jerk out those pictures and pass them around the room, but I know now’s not the time.

  “He’s not here yet, Ace, anything I can help you with?”

  “No sir, I’ll catch him later.”

  “Y’all sleepin’ together again?” Wills yells, obviously trying to recover from the ego slap.

  “Maybe,” I say and wink at him, “tell you what, Wills, why don’t you step outside, hold your breath, and count to infinity? Then come find me and I’ll tell you everything you’ve ever wanted to know.” I turn to go, pleased by the laughter I leave in my wake.

  As I’m walking out of the gym, I meet Logan walking in and he can tell by the look on my face that something is up. We go to his office, he closes the door behind us, and I whip out the goods.

  “Oh, holy shit,” he whispers and looks at me. “How about that?”

  “How about that?” I say, grinning from ear to ear because I love perpetrating mischief.

  “Ugh. I’m gonna lose my breakfast if I keep looking at these.” He looks up at me and then back down at the pictures. “You have to admit though, Ace, some of that’s pretty funny.” I nod in agreement. “Can I have one? Or two? I’d like one for the wall in here and maybe one to hang on the bulletin board in the main lounge.” He starts that idiotic sniggering and I start laughing.

  “Maybe later and you can blame it on me, how about that?”

  “Sounds good,” he says, then gets serious. “Where did you get those, Ace?”

  “Can’t say just yet,” I say and he nods in understanding because he’s a man and men don’t freak out if they don’t have all the details all the time.

  I go to my classroom, check my email, and surprise of all surprises, I have been summoned to Catherine Hilliard’s office during my lunch break for yet another ass chewing. While this would normally ruin my day, today I can’t wait to strut my stuff in that pig head’s office.

  The morning creeps by and I fantasize about letting the pictures fall out onto the floor where my students could see them and then pretend it was an accident. The rumor mill would burn itself to the ground running with news like that. But my students have done nothing to deserve that kind of punishment, so I forget that and try not to stare at the clock.

  When lunch time arrives, I slide the envelope into my purse and strike out to see the Principal. Her door is closed, of course, so I take a seat in one of the red plastic chairs in the narrow hallway.

  My pulse is beating like a jungle drum and my stomach is churning like I indulged in some lunchroom leftovers. I strive to look unaffected as I lean back and take a long, deep breath. I am determined to remain calm. I am determined to keep my cool. I cross and uncross and re-cross my legs and wonder what she would think if I walked in there and slapped those big yellow horse teeth straight out of her mouth.

  I try to think up something to think about but the only thing that comes to mind is Mason hanging out at my house and I am suddenly overcome with fear that he might find my vibrator. That makes me more nervous than I already am and I start laughing this crazy, ridiculous laugh and can’t stop so I start thinking about those peacock shaped sugar cookies and wishing I had about six dozen to eat right now to calm my nerves.

  Catherine Hilliard opens her office door and stands there looking like an Amazon gorilla in a mauve two piece suit.

  “Something funny?” she asks.

  “Nope,” I say and stand up and look her square in the eye. I want to slap her jaws so hard it makes her nose bleed.

  “I can see you now,” she says with a smirk.

  “Why, thank you so much, Mrs. Hilliard.” Instead of slapping her right in the face, I pop my glossy lips and smile. “I’ve been looking forward to this meeting all morning.”

  “Humph,” she mumbles and I get the feeling she thinks I’m being sarcastic.

  But I’m not.

  She thinks she’s about to get me good.

  But she’s not.

  Not today.

  Today the ass chewing will not go as planned.

  36

  I take a seat and watch her cram that corpulent ass into the double wide office chair that creaks and moans under the pressure.

  “So, Miss Jones,” she says quietly, “been to jail again I hear.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie in an effort to amuse myself.

  “I understand you had a gun in your possession and used it to assault a fine, upstanding member of our community.”

  “I don’t recall seeing a fine, upstanding member of our community; but I did see that dirt bag Richard Stacks and his maggot lawyer at a strip club.”

  “At a strip club,” she says with palpable disgust.

  “Yes. Your fine, upstanding citizen was inside a strip club in downtown Memphis with two topless girls rubbing all over him and each other when we showed up with a camera.” Her expression tells me that she was not privy to this information.

  “That has nothing to do with the fact that an employee of this school district was sent to jail on a weapons charge,” she curls her upper lip, “at a strip club.”

  “It has everything to do with it.”

  “Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?”

  “Didn’t I tell you that you are a scab on the ass of humanity?”

  “So you want to do this the hard way?”

  “I most certainly do.”

  She places a yellow sheet of paper on her dusty desk and pushes it over to me.

  “I verified with Shelby County that you were indeed incarcerated and that alone is grounds for suspension based on disorderly conduct and even though you haven’t been officially charged yet,” she glares at me, “what you’ve done already is grounds for termination regardless of what happens in court.”

  So this is how it feels. This is the moment I’ve been dreaming about for three years. I am getting shit canned. It’s really happening and, for some odd reason, I’m not the nervous wreck I was last week when she threatened me with it. Quite the opposite, in fact. I’m so excited I can barely breathe and, while I’m anxious to get up and get out of there, I’m not leaving until I butcher that super-inflated ego of that pig-nosed heifer.

  “Well, I have something for you as well, Mrs. Hilliard,” I say and reach for my bag. She rolls her eyes as I pull out the stack of photos. Smiling, I flip to the one I like best, which a shot of her with her legs spread eagle and Ardie’s
lumpy little skull pressed into the gap. I turn it around so she can see it and the look on her face makes my heart flutter with joy and triumph.

  “Miss Jones,” she says, reaching for the yellow slip, “perhaps termination can be avoided.”

  I snatch up the yellow piece of paper and stuff it deep inside my purse.

  “I don’t think so Mrs. Hilliard,” I say and flip over a few more pictures for her to see, “because you are going to fucking fry for this.” I put the pictures back in my purse and get up to leave.

  “Ace,” she says, lurching out of her chair and banging into the filing cabinet. “Graciela, uh, Miss Jones, please sit down and let’s talk about this. I need to know where those came from. Please,” she pleads. “I’m sure we can all work something out. We can come to some kind of agreement.”

  “Really, Mrs. Hilliard,” I say, like I’m considering it.

  “Yes,” she says, “Yes, of course, please sit down. There is something I need to show you.” She starts poking around in the back of her desk drawer, no doubt looking for the “L.L.” folder that Lilly and I stole last week, but she comes up empty handed and visibly frustrated. “I know it’s in here somewhere and it’s very important that I find it because it might clarify a few things for you.” She starts to look panicked and I stand in the doorway and bite my tongue because, unless she’s planning to look in Lilly’s panty drawer, she won’t find that folder.

  “Mrs. Hilliard, I really must get going. I need to clean out my room before the kids come back from lunch and start asking questions.”

  “No! No, please sit down, Graciela. Have you had coffee this morning? Can I get you some coffee?”

  I smile because I own her now and, even though owning Catherine Hilliard is kind of like owning a sewer rat, it’s gratifying to watch her squirm.