She turns to me with her arms crossed in mock insult, but I’ve got her pegged. “I told you. He’s not my type.”
I lean back with my arms spread out behind me, propping myself up. “What does that even mean? Y’all seem to really make each other laugh, and isn’t that a good place to start?”
“Well, things with Bryce started in a coat closet at a party, so that was also a good place to start.”
“You’re avoiding the question,” I tell her.
“He’s just...”
“Fat,” I say.
She grimaces. “Heisa bigger guy. And I do like his personality a lot, and he is kind of cute. Okay, maybe really cute.”
“You can use the wordfat, by the way. It doesn’t bother me.”
“It seems rude.”
I smile. “Because you’ve only ever used it in a rude way.”
She looks skeptical.
“Just use it,” I say. I grip my stomach and then I pinch the slightest bit of flab on her arm. “Fat. We both have it. I just have enough of it for it to be the first thing you notice about me.”
She cringes, but then her face relaxes. “Fat.”
“Actually use it,” I say. “Like in a sentence.”
Her eyes scan the sky for a moment. “I feel fat?” She says it like a question.
“Well—”
“You can’t feel fat,” calls Willowdean from the other side of the gate. “You either are or you aren’t.”
Willowdean and Ellen giggle as they fiddle with the gate before spilling into the backyard.
I turn to Callie, and in a quiet voice I say, “That’s actually true. Fat is definitely not a feeling.”
Callie nods. “Noted.”
Willowdean and Ellen whisper back and forth, their laughter growing as they shuffle through the backyard gate.
“Shhhh!” Callie and I both reprimand them in unison.
“We hada beer,” says Ellen.
Willowdean holds one finger in the air. “Singular!”
“Let’s get them inside,” Callie whispers.
I nod and the two of us guide Willowdean and Ellen back inside and up to Amanda’s room.
“Does it make me a huge nerd that I’m impressed you have keys to the school?” I ask Malik.
When I asked Malik if he was sure we’d be able to get into the school building on a Sunday afternoon, he assured me that he had it all taken care of, and he did not disappoint.
“Only if it makes me a huge nerd tohavekeys to the school,” he tells me as he opens the door to what was once the school newsroom.
Mr. Garvy, Malik’s journalism teacher, has tried reviving the program more than once, but the district can’t be convinced. Which means this room just sits here empty with an unused news desk while my announcements are the closest the student body gets to actual news, because the school paper is a joke that publishes sports schedules and quizzes ripped from the pages of magazines.
