“I see.”
“Which was fine,” she adds. “Except for there never being enough lounge chairs, and kids everywhere. Plus they had to shut down the pool three times last summer for floaters.”
I gasp. “Oh my gosh, like, dead bodies?”
She laughs. “No. More like turds.”
“Ewww,” I say. “Oh man, that’s so gross.” But it’s still sort of interesting to hear about summer in Clover City. I’m usually only here long enough to go swimming with Amanda a few times before I’m off to Daisy Ranch.
“I don’t think I’ve ever actually gone to the community pool,” I say. Despite my appearance in the Miss Teen Blue Bonnet Pageant might suggest, I’m still coming to terms with wearing swimsuits in front of people. Besides, I think I was too high on adrenaline that day to process much of anything, let alone embarrassment.
“Well, it leaves quite a bit to be desired.” She kicks her feet a little, letting the water splash up above her knees.
“Well, I don’t think I would let it stop me from going, but I do know that the thought of wearing my swimsuit at the public pool in front of everyone from school gives me a little bit of anxiety.” I sigh. “Which is silly, because it’s not like I’m not used to standing out.”
“I hear that.”
I laugh. “Well, you stand out for things that people think are strengths. You’re thin. Pretty. Smart.”
“Mexican,” she says.
“Well, yeah,” I say, a little taken aback. “But that’s not a bad thing to stand out for.”
She sighs. “I know. I just... I know it’s probably different, but I know what it’s like to stand out, too. I’ve got my dad and my abuela and my older sister, Claudia. And there are tons of other Latinx kids at school, but at homewith my mom, Keith, and Kyla... well, they’re all super white, and I am super not. Especially with Claudia out of the house. Sometimes people think I’m not even related to them. Then when people do find out I’m Mexican, they assume my mom is a cleaning lady or that I’m here illegally. Or that I have a fiery temper or that I’m a...” She holds her fingers in air quotes. “‘Sexy señorita.’”
“Wow. That’s really crummy.” In my head, Callie has had such a perfect life up until recently. Dreamboat boyfriend. Traditionally pretty. One of the most talented athletes at school. I may be fat, but no one ever questions whether or not I fit in with my family. Being white, that’s not something I’ve ever had to deal with. “I’m sorry, Callie. I get what it means for people to make decisions about the kind of person you are based on how you look, but I’m still sorry.”
Her lips spread into a faint smile. “Thanks. And hey, I guess if my BFF had this gem in her backyard, I’d keep my distance, too.”
“It’s not just that,” I explain. “I spend most of my summer at camp.”
“Oh.”
“Fat camp.”
I can feel her body tense up a little bit beside me.
“Eight summers,” I say. “Sixteen months, if you add it all up. I even had a camp nickname.”
“A camp nickname?” she asks.
“Yeah. Everyone at camp sort of chooses a nickname for themselves. Or sometimes the nickname chooses you. It kindof helps to separate everyday you from summer-camp you.”
She smiles. “That actually makes sense. So what was your nickname?”
“Don’t laugh,” I tell her.
She nods solemnly.
“Puddin’.”
“Oh my God!” she says. “Are you serious? I can’t believe it!”
“You said you wouldn’t laugh.” I can’t help feeling a little hurt.
“Oh no! It’s because my grandma on my mom’s side used to call me Puddin’. She moved to Arizona, but she still writes it in my birthday cards every once in a while.”
I bubble with laughter. “No way!”
