Fat Cat

by Robin Brande

  What do I have to lose? A few minutes of discomfort from having to talk to him on the phone tonight, sure, but I stand to gain much more. I'll be proving to Matt McKinney that he can't intimidate me.

  So right after I handed my note to Nick, I handed a separate one to Matt. Boy, was he surprised. He glanced up at me for a split second, then quickly kept on walking.

  I told Nick to call me at seven, Matt to call me at eight. I doubt Matt will have the guts to do it, but that's okay, too. It still gives me the upper hand. It means I was the bigger, stronger person, and he was nothing but a coward.

  Can't wait for the phone to ring. This whole stupid drama has to end.

  67

  "What were you and Matt talking about?" I began.

  "When?" Nick asked.

  "Today. Right when I walked in. I know you were talking about me."

  "Guy talk," Nick said. "Bull. Out with it."

  Nick chuckled softly. Even his voice over the phone can do it for me these days.

  "Why don't you ask him?" Nick said.

  "Because Matt and I aren't exactly friends. And I thought maybe you and I were, considering."

  "And here I thought you were going to tell me 'now' tonight. I'm seriously devastated."

  "Will you just tell me?" I said.

  "Nope. Sorry. Some things are just between men."

  Hate him.

  We hung up, and I waited. And waited. Past eight. Past nine.

  Finally, a little before ten (my parents' traditional cutoff time for any calls to the house), the phone rang. I let it ring six times before I answered, all the while yelling to everyone else, "Don't get it!"

  I acted bored, casual. "Hello?"

  "Yeah, Cat, what do you want?"

  He outbored me. I got flustered. "Um, I just needed to ask you something."

  He didn't say anything. I guess I was just supposed to ask.

  "Why have you been acting like that?"

  "Like what?" he said, still dead-voiced.

  "Like I ran over your dog and killed your parents?" I hadn't planned on being so flip, but this wasn't going the way I expected.

  "You tell me," he said.

  I took a breath and tried again. "Do you admit you've been really rude to me lately?"

  And that made him laugh. Which I didn't care for one bit.

  "Can't we just stay out of each other's way?" I said. "I'm not bothering you, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't go out of your way all the time to give me nasty looks and say things behind my back to other people and try to make me feel uncomfortable."

  "Okay, Cat, whatever."

  It sounded like he was about to hang up.

  "Wait."

  "What," he said, sounding like he was going to fall asleep any second.

  I hadn't planned it out this far. He wasn't following the script. I hadn't accomplished anything--other than sounding like I was begging him to be nice to me.

  "You're a real jerk, you know that?"

  "Good night, Cat. Thanks for calling." And then he did hang up.

  I didn't even get the chance to say, "You called me."

  I hate that guy. This isn't going well at all.

  68

  Day 156, Friday, January 23

  Phase II. Back on.

  I dressed up again today: the royal blue sweater with a lacy white camisole underneath, black pants, black boots. And makeup.

  Because this is war.

  And if there's one thing I learned during my brief experiment with trying to look pretty, it's that what I wear and how I look actually does have an effect--on me. It makes me act differently. It gives me a kind of confidence I don't have when I'm feeling schlubby or fat or however I've been used to feeling. Maybe that's what Amanda really meant about my hidden powers--they're powers over myself.

  Nick gave me a very appreciative smile when I walked into Mr. Fizer's. Thank you, Nick. Matt had already seen me in English Lit, and I could see I had an effect on him, too.

  Good.

  I thought about it a lot after Matt hung up on me--about how I've been letting him call the shots the entire time I've known him. When we were little, he was the one who picked what we were doing. He was the one I followed around--to the space museum, to the planetarium, to the movies he wanted to see. Granted, I liked most of those things once I was doing them, but the fact was I didn't have a voice.

  Then when I caught him that night at the science fair, I thought I was going to break free and live my own life. But I realized the other night that was a lie. I was still following his lead. He had betrayed me, and rather than confront him, I had run away and hated myself and hated him. If I had only gone up to him that night and told him I heard what he said and forced him to admit it to my face, I think I would be a different person right now. Stronger. Fearless.

  Instead I've spent the past three and a half years--no, almost four now--doing everything to stay out of his way. I can't help that we've been thrown into so many of the same classes over the years--it's the nature of our program--but I've always sat as far away from him as I could, and I've never willingly talked to him, except in response to whatever smug, sarcastic comments he felt like making.

  Instead I should have been on the offensive all along. I shouldn't have hidden. I should have gone forth with my head held high and let everyone else see what an evil, backstabbing person he is. Instead I've cowered away from the whole incident, mostly because I was so embarrassed. But now I don't have to be embarrassed--I don't look the way I used to anymore.

  So today I made sure I looked as great as I possibly could (Amanda approved my makeup), and at the start of Mr. Fizer's class--after Nick had thrown me that sly little smile (sigh)--I went right up to Matt and said, "I'd like to talk to you after class."

  I didn't add, "If you don't mind," or, "If you have time," or anything weak like that. I just stood up tall and asked for what I wanted.

  Matt didn't even look up at me. "Why."

  Based on our conversation the other night, I expected that. "Because I'd like to clear the air, once and for all."

  That made him look at me. He squinted, like we were standing in a sandstorm, and he ran a hand through his already-messy hair. "Cat, leave it alone."

  "No. I think this has gone on long enough."

  Matt looked down at the table again and shook his head like it was all making him so tired. I stood my ground. "I'll wait for you. It will only take a few minutes. I think you can spare that."

  Then I turned away and walked to my seat and didn't give him a chance to argue any further.

  Score for Cat.

  Of course I couldn't do a bit of work the whole period. I just kept planning what I was going to say. How I would stand. What I would do with my arms--crossed over my chest or loose at my sides? Which would make me look more formidable?

  Mr. Fizer reminded us our project prototypes are due next Friday. As if I can think about schoolwork these days. I need to be free of all these distractions. Which means meeting with Matt this afternoon was essential.

  I waited in the hallway. Nick came out first. He pressed his hip against mine as he leaned in to whisper, "How can you be so cruel, walking around looking like that?" I couldn't help but smile. I really wish I loved him.

  Matt came out, backpack slung over one shoulder, surly face in place.

  "Do you mind walking a little ways?" I realized the moment it was out of my mouth I shouldn't have asked his permission. I should have said, "Let's walk." But it was too late.

  He didn't answer, but he did follow. So far, so good. My plan was to get him away from school grounds, across the street, and into the neighborhood a little where I knew we'd have some privacy. What I had to say wasn't going to make me particularly proud. I didn't want any bystanders to hear.

  But Matt wasn't sticking to the plan. As soon as we hit open air, he stopped and faced me. "What."

  "Just a little further." I pointed to the street. "It'll only take a minute."

  I made s
ure to keep my back erect. The boots were perfect because they gave me a long, serious stride. I gazed straight ahead and let my arms swing loosely at my sides. I looked far more confident than I felt, but Matt didn't need to know that.

  We waited at the light, which took forever. I kept expecting him to say, "Forget it," and leave. But he stuck it out, not saying a word, just waiting for me to lead on.

  "It's just up here," I said, pointing to some vague destination. He trudged on without comment.

  When we were finally a block from school, I turned to him. "Okay, this is good enough."

  I was wearing my sunglasses, and I kept them on. Part of my strategy--he didn't need to see my eyes.

  I couldn't really see his, either, since he wouldn't look at me straight on. I knew that must mean he was nervous. Good.

  "Okay, here's what I wanted to say," I began. This was the part I had rehearsed. "We have a year and a half of school left together, and I really don't want to spend it like this. I think it's apparent to both of us that we don't like each other and that we haven't liked each other for a long time, but I don't see any reason why we can't behave civilly when we're around each other."

  I paused to see if he had anything to say, but he didn't. He just stared off to the side, like he was bored and not even listening.

  I continued with my speech. "So I have a few suggestions for how we can get through the rest of school--"

  Suddenly he looked right at me. "Tell you what, Cat. Why don't you start by explaining why you've been such an unrelenting bitch to me?"

  I can't say I wasn't expecting that. He'd asked me the same thing at the Halloween party. So far it was all going according to plan. "I think you know."

  "If I knew," Matt said, "I wouldn't bother asking, would I?" Matt always enunciates his words very carefully when he's angry. He enunciated.

  I blew out a breath. This was the embarrassing part. But if I was going to stand up for myself, it had to start here. "I heard what you said."

  Matt just looked at me and waited. I realized he thought I meant I'd heard what he said just then, not what he said before. "At the science fair," I added. "In seventh grade."

  He squinted. "What?"

  "What you said to Willie Martin."

  I could tell he still had no idea what I was talking about, which made me even angrier. Obviously the single biggest betrayal of my life wasn't even important enough to him to remember.

  "Amanda and I were coming toward your booth. You were standing there talking to Willie Martin--remember?" Evil Willie Martin from swim team.

  "No, Cat, I have no idea whatsoever what you are talking about."

  So this was how it was going to be. He was actually going to force me to say it out loud.

  "It was after they announced the winners, remember? I had just won first place, you were second. I kept waiting for you to come over and congratulate me, because that's what friends do, Matt, but you were nowhere to be found. So finally Amanda and I went looking for you. Because I thought you had a great project and you deserved to win first place, too, and I was going to tell you so. Because that's what friends do."

  "Does this have a point?" he asked.

  I was slouching, I knew it. But I couldn't help myself. I was starting to feel as small as I did back then.

  "The point is, I heard what you said. Do you really not remember?" "Is this going to take much longer?"

  The smugness finally got to me. I stood up straight and the words came spilling out. "I heard you! Okay? I heard every word. Willie said, 'I can't believe Fat Cat beat you.' And you said, 'Yeah.' And Willie said, 'That fat cow is so stupid you probably did her project for her.' And you didn't say anything. And Willie said, 'Why do you even hang out with her? Is she your girlfriend or something?' And you said, 'No.' And Willie said, 'Fat Cat's your girlfriend,' and he laughed, and he said it again and you said, 'Fat Cat is not my girlfriend.' And he said, 'Then why do you hang out with her?' And you said, 'Because she doesn't have any other friends.'"

  My voice was shaking now. I'm not good with anger. I usually skip right on to crying.

  "Remember that, Matt? And then you told him you didn't even think I should have won. And then you and Willie made fun of my project. And the two of you were just so happy together, weren't you? And meanwhile Amanda and I were standing right there at the side of your booth and I thought I was going to throw up."

  Matt's expression had changed. He wasn't so smug anymore. He stood there, arms crossed, still gazing off to the side.

  "I thought you liked me, Matt. I thought we were friends--that you were my best friend. But it was all a lie. You were just a disgusting, worthless traitor."

  I fought hard to control myself. I would not let him see me be weak.

  Matt's voice was low and calm. "I was thirteen, Cat."

  "So was I! And I never would have done that to you!" And now I couldn't help it--tears streamed down my face. "I trusted you! How could you do that to me?"

  "I don't know," he said softly.

  "But you don't deny it!"

  "No."

  Somehow that made me feel even worse. I didn't realize until then that I'd almost been hoping it was all in my imagination. I knew it wasn't, but hearing him admit it made the whole thing feel real and horrible again in a way I wasn't expecting.

  "Why?" I asked. "Can you just tell me that?"

  Matt started to say something, then stopped and shook his head. "I don't know. I was thirteen. Kids say things."

  "I never would have said that about you! I liked you. A lot."

  I was really crying now, much to my humiliation. This wasn't at all the way it was supposed to go. I was supposed to be strong, fierce, free. And Matt was supposed to apologize.

  I noticed he still hadn't.

  "Are you even sorry?" I asked.

  "Yes."

  The answer sort of surprised me. I didn't know what else to say.

  "Are we done here?" Matt asked.

  I couldn't believe he was so cold. I wiped my nose on my sleeve. "Yes," I snapped. "Sorry to take up so much of your valuable time."

  I set off at the best pace my boots could carry me. I walked the full length of the street before looking back.

  Matt was already gone.

  69

  There was a letter stuck to my front door this morning.

  Cat--

  I WILL be at the front entrance to the zoo at 1:00 this afternoon. Come if you want.

  MM

  "What do you think it means?" I asked Amanda (emergency call).

  "It means he feels terribly, terribly guilty. You caught him off guard yesterday, and now that he's had time to prepare, he's ready to talk to you."

  "And say what?"

  "'You misunderstood,' or, 'I was on cold medication that day'--who knows? But aren't you dying to find out?"

  "No."

  "Cat, come on! This is finally your chance to force Matt McKinney to apologize to you after all these years. I'm telling you, I'd drive a thousand miles if I knew my enemy was about to fess up how he'd hurt me."

  "I just don't know if I can go through it all again. Yesterday was really bad. I was a mess."

  "So today you go there at one, looking like a total knockout, and you hold your head high and you say, 'I believe you have something to say to me?' and then you just stand there and listen. You don't have to speak another word. And when he's done, you can just turn and walk away. Very classy. I think I'm going to hide somewhere and watch."

  "You are not," I said firmly. "I can't do this if I know you're around."

  "Come on, Kit Cat, be strong. This may finally be the moment you've been waiting for--Matt McKinney contrite and begging."

  "Somehow I don't see that."

  "Okay," Amanda said, "then how about at least contrite?"

  "That would be nice."

  "I'm coming over to do your makeup."

  70

  I purposely arrived late. About ten minutes. I thought about making it longer,
but I was afraid he would think I wasn't coming and he'd just leave.

  Okay, I looked remarkable. Amanda made me try on more outfits than Barbie until she was satisfied I made the right "statement."

  Here's my statement: hair down and straightened, black turtleneck we bought on our clothing spree at the start of my secret Phase II project, dark-wash jeans that fit me perfectly, my black boots. Amanda said with my dark hair and the black turtleneck and my dark glasses, I looked like a spy. No purse, she decided, because purses make you look weak and girly. I needed my arms free so I could stand tall and confident with my hands on my hips like a warrior or an assassin.

  She made me practice that.

  Matt was waiting near the entrance to the zoo. I walked within a few feet of him and struck my pose.

  "What's this about?" I said.

  He didn't answer, but turned to the ticket window and paid for two. Then he walked through the gates without even a glance back. I waited a few seconds, then followed.

  To the right was the zoo cafe (kind of an unappetizing thought), where a bunch of parents and children and teenagers sat at the small tables eating ice cream (in January?) and nachos. Matt chose the path just to the left of the cafe and kept on walking. I followed.

  As the path crooked around we came to a chain-link enclosure, bordered all around with tall bamboo stalks. Inside the enclosure were palm fronds and thick ropes and a plastic version of a tire swing.

  Matt stopped before the cage. And still said nothing.

  I stood a reasonable distance away from him and gazed at what he wanted me to see: three monkeys the size of toddlers, with dark sable coats and white faces. Their hands and feet were white, too, like they were wearing gloves.

  "Yeah," I said, "so?"

  Matt answered, "This is my project."

  A few seconds ticked by. "I don't understand."

  "I'm paying you back," he said.