Big Fat Disaster (35 page)

Mom sends Drew to Leah’s to feed the dogs, and she orders me to my room. She barks, “Stay!” and pulls until my door scrapes closed.

I lean against it and eavesdrop on her Skype conversation with Brenda, her old teaching partner in Northside. She tells Brenda everything that’s happened, and she’s sobbing by the time she’s finished. Mom wails, “I’m not equipped to deal with this—
this shit
—by myself! I knew that Colby had food issues when we were living in Northside, but it’s gotten worse! Just when I start to think she’s going to come out of this okay—I mean, she tried to stop Ryan from killing himself, so she’s not
totally
stuck inside herself—but then she goes off and does something like this, and I don’t know how to get her to stop!”

Brenda’s voice is soothing. “Aw, honey, you’re doing the best you can. Maybe if you call the high school, the counselor will be able to recommend someone who can help her. Have
you
thought about getting counseling, Sonya? You all might need it after what you’ve been through since Reese…you know…”

Mom’s not calming down. If anything, she’s ramping up the hysterics. “I don’t know how I’ll
pay
for a therapist! Reese won’t even help me with the medical bills I already have. He claims he’s broke, and—”

Brenda interrupts, “But don’t you remember how our school counselor would refer people to the mental health center? They didn’t have to pay, or if they did, it was very little. There is help available, Sonya. Colby’s eating like she is for a reason. I’m taking a psychology class for my master’s degree, and—”

Mom blasts, “Well, I wish she’d stop eating so much! People can’t even tell that she’s mine, and to tell you the truth, sometimes I prefer it that way. I look at her, and all I see is Reese. They used to do these baking sessions together, laughing and eating the whole time, and it always disgusted me. Food, food, food. No wonder they’re both so fat.”

Oh, my God. Why didn’t that truck run me over? Oh my God I want to die.

My eyes fill with tears and I feel as if I just slammed into the side of the road again. My mom has said awful things before, but this is a whole new kind of
awful
. It’s
awful
times a thousand.
Why did I have to listen in? I’d give anything to unhear that.

Brenda is silent for a long time.

Mom asks, “Are you still there? Did our Skype session freeze up?”

Brenda’s voice is high when she finally speaks: “Can Colby hear you, Sonya? I’d hate for her to hear you talk about her that way. And, you know, maybe she misses her dad, and she’s using food like a Band-Aid. Have you thought about that?”

Mom sounds defensive. “Brenda, you
know
I don’t have a mean bone in my body. Anyway, Colby’s in her room. She
shouldn’t
be eavesdropping; I’ve made clear to her that listening to other people’s conversations is unacceptable. Let me check…”

Mom’s footsteps thud toward my room. I rock back and forth, trying to get to my knees, but I can’t. I reach up, pull my iPod off my dresser, and slip in my ear buds. I pull
The Scarlet Letter
off my bed and open it to the middle, then shift so that I’m leaning against my bed. I lay the book on my lap and try to turn on my iPod, but my hands are shaking too hard. I pick up the book and pretend to read it as my mom forces my door open. I act like I don’t see her come in.

“Colby?”

That’s it; nod your head to the beat of the nonexistent music.

“Colby?” She steps in, nudges my foot with her toe.

I snap my head up and one of my ear buds falls out. “Huh?”

She gives me a close-mouthed smile that doesn’t match the look in her eyes. “Nothing. Just checking on you. Wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

My eyes fill with tears, and I hope she doesn’t notice. My voice sounds like Kermit the Frog’s when I answer. “Yeah. I’m just fine.”

She starts to pull my door closed but stops. “Did I give you back your iPod?”

I nod.

“Hmm. I guess I don’t remember doing it.”

I slide in the ear bud and pretend to start reading again. Mom pulls my door closed, and I stare at the words in the open book. My teardrops fall on the pages and I rub them in, darkening a conversation between Roger Chillingworth—who is Hester Prynne’s husband, and Arthur Dimmesdale, Hester’s minister and Pearl’s father. They’re talking about secret sin. Chillingworth says that he can’t understand why some men would rather hide their sins than confess them, and Dimmesdale says that if certain people were revealed to the world as sinful, they could no longer do God’s work. Turns out, Arthur Dimmesdale is getting sicker and sicker, trying to keep his secret about being Pearl’s dad.

I close the book and think about telling Mom the truth about Ryan. I trace the title on the cover and the red icing stains on my fingers are enough to convince me that my mom can’t handle finding out any more about me right now.

Mom drives us to school the next morning. She kisses Drew on the forehead and sends her on to the elementary wing, then barely says “Bye” to me before she heads toward the counselor’s office. I play dumb, like I don’t know she’s on a shrink-seeking mission. “Where are you going, Mom?”

She snaps, “Don’t worry about it.” Then she smiles, but her lips curl like they did when she spied that empty icing cup on the floor in the bathroom.

My body is in my desk during class, but all I can think about is what Mom said to Brenda. She’s
relieved
when people don’t realize she’s my mother?

At lunch, I slide my tray onto the
Nobodies
table and sit across from Anna. She looks surprised, but she doesn’t yell at me or flip me off, so I get the idea that it’s okay for me to stay.

Sean says what Anna’s probably thinking: “Oh, so you decided that we’re good enough? Yesterday you sat with
Abercrombie and Bitch
, and we figured you’d gone over to the
Dark Side
.”

I snort. “I’d burst into flames if I went there. I was just trying to find out who made the Facebook page in my honor.”

Anna asks quietly, “So, did you?”

I shake my head. “Not for sure, although I’m pretty sure that Kara did it since she had Ryan’s cell phone.” I drag a French fry through ketchup and think about what happened in the bathroom at Sugar’s yesterday. I remember sneaking the icing and Mom banging on the door, but everything in-between is fuzzy.

Maybe I’m crazy. Seems like eating four cups of cake icing in ten minutes would be a memorable thing. To tell the truth, though, I often don’t remember everything I eat when I pig out. It’s a blur, and I can’t feel myself.

Which makes me think…maybe that’s the point?

In English class, Mr. Van Horn moderates a debate on the nature of Pearl, Hester Prynne’s daughter. He assigns half the class the point of view that Pearl is a little demon seed, so she’s bad for Hester’s soul, and the other half is to argue that Hester is bad for Pearl. In other words, we’re supposed to explain Pearl’s problems—like, she runs at other kids, screaming and shouting at them—by deciding if she’s possessed by Satan or if her mom’s a crazy bitch.

I tune out the discussion of
The Scarlet Letter
and imagine the class debating my nature.

I pull
The Scarlet Letter
out of my backpack, plop myself onto the bleachers, and settle in for P.E. class. My classmates head for the bay door and the sunlight, but I don’t exactly mind that the cast on my arm is keeping me from participating.

From the doorway, Coach Sharp blasts her whistle. I look up. “Come on, Denton! Your excuse note is only for strenuous workouts. You can walk the track and get some fresh air. Starting tomorrow, I’ll expect you to dress out.”

Shit.
I shove the novel into my backpack and crab-crawl off the bleachers. Coach Sharp waits, as if I’d go sit back down or something.

I blink in the sunshine and frown: Becca is waiting just outside the doors for me. I do a double-take because she’s wearing her pearl-snap western shirt over her gym shirt and shorts.

“Get moving, ladies. Walk one, jog one; walk one, jog one. If you can jog more than one, go for it. I’m looking for cross country candidates.”

I snort; Coach Sharp snaps, “Something funny, Denton?”

My voice drips with sarcasm. “Um…I’m not exactly in shape. I doubt you’d want me on your team.”

Coach Sharp shrugs. “No time like the present to find out what you can do, is there?”

We aren’t five steps into our lap when Becca says, “So? Have you thought about it? Are you going to do the right thing and tell the truth about Ryan?”

I ignore her question and take off in as much of a burst as I’m capable of, but she must be a charter member of Drew’s
Ask a Million Questions
Club, because Becca’s every bit as annoying as my little sister. She catches me easily, and she won’t shut up.