Fat Cat

by Robin Brande

  I still didn't understand. "You brought me here to show me monkeys?"

  "They're apes," he said, "but yes."

  "And that's supposed to make up for everything?"

  I stared at him for a moment, then realized this whole thing was just a big joke to him. I turned and started back toward the entrance.

  Matt followed. "Cat, if you'd just let me explain--"

  "I don't care about your stupid project, you idiot. You don't get it at all, do you?"

  "I'm trying to--" Matt had to take a few extra steps to catch up with me. My boots are really awesome. It's like they give me an extra six inches of leg.

  Matt tried again. "I thought if I shared with you the secret of my project, you'd realize--"

  I spun to face him. "Realize what? That you're a scientific genius? Am I supposed to be impressed?"

  "No," he said quietly, "realize that you can trust me again."

  I was breathing hard by now, because no matter how awesome the boots were, it was still my body having to keep up with them. Plus I was pretty keyed up from the whole experience.

  "I'm never going to trust you, Matt. You ruined that. You were supposed to be my best friend back then. Why should I ever trust you again? What's the point?"

  "So you're really going to hold this against me the rest of my life?"

  "You haven't even apologized!" "I'm trying to," he said.

  "Well, try harder. Because monkeys or apes aren't going to do it. You hurt me, Matt--deeply. Telling me what you're working on for the science fair isn't really going to make up for that, now is it?"

  I turned and took off again, and this time Matt didn't follow. Fine. We'd said all we had to say--at least I had. It didn't surprise me that he couldn't come up with a decent apology. He had stepped over the line. You don't get to fix that.

  I was almost to my car (yes, I drove. I wanted my hair and everything to look perfect. So sue me) when I heard Matt call my name. I thought about ignoring him, but then curiosity made me turn around and wait.

  He did a semi-jog up to meet me. He stopped about four feet away. I glared at him with defiance.

  "What, Matt? Did you come up with something? Some explanation for why you were such a piece of--"

  "I'm sorry," he said. "Cat, I'm so, so sorry. I don't know why I said it. I honestly don't."

  "I do. It's because you were embarrassed of me. I was so ugly you didn't even want people to think we were friends."

  "No," he said, "that's not it at all."

  "Then why?"

  He sighed. "I don't know. I was just a stupid kid. Willie was getting in my face, and--I don't know. I just said it."

  I chuffed out a breath and turned to put my key in the lock. When I looked up again, he was right beside me.

  "Cat, you have to believe me--I really miss you. I've missed you for a long time."

  "Well, then, your loss, huh?" I said bravely.

  He clasped my arm. A charge went through me. Almost as serious as when Nick touched that same arm.

  I shook off Matt's hand. "You don't get it, do you? What you did was unforgivable. It's the worst thing anyone has ever done to me in my entire life." I hadn't planned on confessing this, but my mouth was on a roll. "I really liked you, Matt. A lot. As in, a deep and serious crush. As in, I actually thought I was in love. Did you even know that?"

  He looked sufficiently shocked. "No."

  "What did you think I was doing, then? Hanging out with you all the time, following you wherever you wanted to go--did you think it was just because I wanted to be your pal? Like I was a boy?"

  "I didn't--I was thirteen--"

  "Stop saying that!" I said. "It's no excuse. If I was old enough to like you that much, the least you could have done was not say all those horrible things behind my back. Even if you didn't know I liked you that way, you were still supposed to be my friend. I'll never get over what you did."

  "Is that true?" he asked. "Never?"

  "It's too late. You ruined it." I got into my car.

  Matt stood off to the side and let me back up. I half expected him to knock on the window or try to get my attention, but he just stood there. So I kept on pulling out, then turned the wheels and headed for the exit.

  He just couldn't do it, could he? Couldn't find the words to make it right.

  I don't think those words even exist.

  71

  Jordan showed up at the cafe tonight to sample some more of my desserts. Amanda and I joined him at the table as soon as our shift was over.

  She and I had already talked about the zoo performance over the last couple of hours, so I didn't need to get into those details again in front of Jordan. But she and I still had plenty to discuss about Matt--from how self-centered he is to how he looks and dresses (Amanda's critique, mostly) to how it's no wonder we never see him with a girlfriend--who would have him?

  Jordan just shook his head and tried to concentrate on my three-layer chocolate cake. Finally he felt the need to speak up. "I don't know why you two are so down on him. Especially you, Cat--after he stuck up for you with Beecher."

  "What?" I said. "When?"

  "At that Halloween party."

  Amanda and I looked at each other. I could see she didn't have a clue, either. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

  Jordan swallowed another bite. "I was hanging out talking to Greg, and Matt came up. And pretty soon Greg's bragging about you."

  That didn't sound too bad. In fact, Greg bragging about me in front of Matt seemed like just what I wanted.

  "What did he say?" Amanda asked.

  "Oh, just how he'd upgraded his model--you know, from the old one. Who was that girl he used to go out with?"

  "I don't know," Amanda said impatiently. "Just keep going."

  I was glad she said it. Sometimes Jordan's stories stretch out a little too long. Amanda and I like to talk fast and listen fast.

  "So anyway," Jordan said, "Greg's saying how he upgraded, and now he has a fully loaded unit--you know, like a car--his dad owns that car dealership--"

  Amanda widened her eyes at me because he was taking so long.

  Jordan cleared his throat. "Do you really want me to tell you what he said?"

  "YES!" we both shouted.

  "He said he had this fully loaded unit now--'big brains, big ti--'" He coughed. "--chest. And how now that he had someone to do all his homework for him, he could cruise through the rest of school, and ... do you really want to hear this?"

  "YES!"

  "And how everyone knows if you tell a fat chick you love her, she'll do anything you want."

  Amanda and I were speechless.

  "Yeah," Jordan said. "So then Matt goes all road rage, and I thought I was going to have to hold him off Beecher. Instead he tells the guy that he's a complete jackass--that he doesn't deserve you and doesn't even know what he has--and right then we see you two coming back and Matt takes off, and there we all are."

  This cold feeling came over me, like I'd just fallen through the ice.

  "He said that?" I asked.

  "Yeah, sorry. I guess I should have told you before, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings. And then I figured it didn't matter anyway, since you guys broke up right after--"

  "No," I said, "I mean Matt. He really said that?"

  "Yeah," Jordan answered, downing another bite. "So you want to cut my man some slack?"

  72

  I do not understand guys. I think I'm smart in a lot of ways, but this is definitely not one of them.

  Here I thought Greg was a nice--if kind of boring--guy, and I just wasn't feeling the heat, and then I go out with Nick and definitely feel the heat, but that's not enough, and now Matt.

  Have I been wrong about him all this time?

  No, I haven't. Because even he admits what he said to Willie. And he has no good excuse for it, other than to keep telling me he was thirteen. I know that. I need more than that.

  And what was that bit at the zoo yesterday? What was his
point? As if showing me those monkeys--excuse me, apes, as if I care--was supposed to make up for anything. What kind of twisted logic is that?

  I slept in late this morning after my long interview with Jordan at the cafe last night. Amanda and I must have grilled him for another hour after he told us that story, but he never really gave us more to go on. Jordan is a skillful writer, but not so much a talker. He kept falling back on phrases like, "He's solid, I'm telling you," when what Amanda and I wanted was details.

  So then she and I analyzed it between ourselves for another good long while at her house, and by the time I dragged home, I could barely pry my eyes open.

  When I woke up this morning, I thought maybe I'd dreamed the whole thing--the zoo, Jordan, all of it. Because it's not the path my brain has been taking all this time. I'm predisposed to believing everything Matt does is to hurt me or make fun of me somehow. But sticking up for me with Greg doesn't fit that pattern.

  So now what? That's the thing.

  Amanda told me last night that I might have to do the unthinkable: go back to Matt and give him a chance to make up.

  There are two major problems with that, as far as I can see: First, it means I have to go crawling back to him, which is exactly what I don't want to do. I think I've established a very strong persona with him lately, and it's taken me so long to get here I can't stand thinking I'll have to give it up.

  Second, who's to say Matt would even be receptive at this point? I couldn't have been colder to him yesterday. I think I was pretty clear we wouldn't be reconciling anytime soon.

  Oh, and I just thought of a third thing: what if I just don't want to? I know that sounds petty and immature, but why does it have to always be me? Is it wrong to like being in the position of power for once? To have someone make the effort with me? To have someone else be the one trying to get me to like him?

  Okay, so I admit that both Greg and Nick kind of liked me--or at least pursued me--more than I did them. So in a way, I've already had a taste of that. But the fact that it's Matt, and I've built up all this justifiable anger toward him over the years, and now just because I find out maybe he's not so completely evil after all doesn't mean I'm ready to give up all my resentment and go back to being buddies.

  Besides, I've moved on. Amanda was there to take over the role of best friend, and I have a very fulfilling life hanging out with her and Jordan. And I have plenty to fill my time otherwise, between school and work and my various chef duties and now swimming and all my homework--so why do I need to make friends with Matt again?

  But the worst of it is the idea of having to go to him now and say I misjudged him or I'm sorry or anything like that. Because I'm not sorry. He was wrong, and he admits it.

  But maybe there's more to this story than I've been willing to believe.

  Maybe Amanda's right. Maybe I should at least let him try.

  73

  Day 159, Monday, January 26

  Breakfast: The usual.

  Lunch: My pride.

  I wrote my note during lunch. Short and to the point: Can we try that again?

  At the start of Mr. Fizer's class I walked right up to Matt and handed it to him. He didn't look at me, but he took it. He shoved it in his backpack without even reading it.

  But he must have read it at some point when I wasn't looking, because by the end of class he had a note for me. One word: Tomorrow.

  It's weird how my heart flipped a little at that. I think part of it was nerves, because now I have a whole night and day to think about what I'm going to say to him and what he might say back.

  I'll have to take the afternoon off work at Poison Control, but it's worth it. If I could take time off from the cafe to go on some makeout date to the Winter Formal (not that I knew that at the time), I can take time off from poisonings to go look at primates with the guy who told Greg Beecher he didn't deserve me.

  But that brings up an interesting point. Why did Matt say all those mean things about me to Nick Langan? About me loving and leaving. If Matt didn't think Greg deserved me, then why is he acting like I did something wrong by dumping him?

  I guess I'll find out everything tomorrow.

  Maybe I should make a list. This may be my last chance to ask Matt all the questions I've been wondering about for the past four years. Like why he continued to bother me and joke around with me when it was clear I hated him. And what sort of things he said to Nick behind my back. And why did he say them? Maybe Amanda is right and he was just jealous and wanted to interfere. But why not ask him? What do I have to lose? I'd also like to know why he thinks showing me a cage of apes is supposed to make up for stabbing me in the heart. Just a few questions, really.

  There's the matter of what to wear, of course. I'm thinking Nick's pink scarf might come in handy. It looks good against my skin, and it would be my little secret about who gave it to me. I'll have to clear that with my dresser, of course. She's coming over after I swim tonight.

  No wonder so many famous scientists have been loners. All this human interaction takes up way too much time.

  74

  Day 160, Tuesday, January 27

  Breakfast: Forget it. Too nervous.

  "Why are you so dressed up?" Peter asked when we set out this morning.

  "I'm not so dressed up."

  "Uh-huh. You never wear a dress to school."

  "It's a skirt. I borrowed it from Amanda. Do you like it?"

  "I don't know."

  Stupid question to ask an eleven-year-old boy.

  But Amanda and I agree it's the hottest thing I've worn all year. She loved the outfit so much when we finished putting it together last night, she made me let her take my picture.

  Black boots, brown tights, a black-and-brown-checked skirt that falls just above my knee. Amanda's red turtleneck. Which means I couldn't wear the pink scarf because pink and red? Amanda says no. At least not this particular red and that particular pink.

  I feel like I have a lot to learn. I never used to care about fashion--at all--but now that I'm actually starting to like the way I look in clothes, I can see getting into it a little more. Is that shallow? Probably. But as long as I stay at the top of my class, maybe people will overlook it.

  "So what's going on with Trina?" I said her name just the way I think of her--unpleasantly.

  "I don't know," Peter said.

  "Is she being nice to you at all?"

  He shrugged.

  "Let me rephrase that: has she stopped saying mean things about you to other people?"

  "I don't know."

  "Is that your answer for everything today?"

  Peter grinned. "I don't know."

  Maybe because I was about to meet with the guy who was once the eleven-year-old boy in my life, I felt like doling out a little more advice to my brother than usual.

  "You know," I said, "the only people you can really trust in life are the ones who treat you the same no matter what you look like. Like Amanda--she's been my friend since seventh grade. And I was heavy for a long time, and she never once made fun of me or talked meanly about me behind my back. That's why we're still friends. Understand?"

  "Yeah."

  "My point is," I felt it necessary to say, "I don't think this Trina girl is worth even a moment of your time. Do you really want to be friends with someone who likes you only if you're skinny?"

  Peter didn't answer. So I just kept going.

  "And let's say one day you're my age, and you look really hot, and every girl in the school is drooling over you--"

  Peter snorted at that.

  "--and suddenly there's Trina saying, 'Oh, Petey, would you please go with me to the prom?' I hope you'll tell her that there are plenty of nice girls out there you'd rather take instead. Will you promise me that?"

  Peter shrugged. Which told me he must have it bad for this girl.

  I stopped and made him look at me. "It's not worth it. Trust me--I've been doing this a lot longer than you have. People who only like you when you look
good are worthless. Understand?"

  And suddenly I didn't care if he understood at all. Because I did.

  How could I be so stupid? It was staring me right in the face. How could I have been so blind?

  I cannot wait for this afternoon.

  75

  School got out at three, the zoo closes at four. I caught a ride from Amanda. The sky was charcoal gray, and the wind had picked up since lunch. Something was blowing in. "You can't walk home," Amanda said. "I'm going to wait."

  "No, I'll be fine. Go home and take your nap."

  "That's what backseats are for."

  We pulled into the parking lot. Amanda turned off the car and then checked me over one more time to make sure everything looked perfect.

  "I think you're wrong," she said as I was getting out, and I said, "I know I'm right," and that's where we left it.

  I felt so good. Because as far as I was concerned, the mystery was solved, and I was going to get to relive my childhood betrayal and this time stand up for myself.

  Matt was already waiting for me out front. I could tell he was checking me out as I walked toward him. Good. Perfect.

  "Hi," I said pleasantly. I wasn't going to give away how I really felt. I wanted to set the trap. "Been waiting long?"

  "No. Thanks ... for your note."

  "Well, I realized afterward I was a little too hard on you the other day. You were right--I should have given you a chance to make it up to me. So go ahead. Tell me all about your project." This was going to be easy. He had no idea what was coming.

  I let him pay for me again, and we went back to the gibbon cage. Same three little guys--or maybe they were girls--climbing the chain link and swinging on the tire.

  "Here's my picture," Matt said. He opened his research notebook and showed me.

  I meant to be above it all and not really care in the least, but once he showed me that picture, there was no way. You'd have to be made of stone.