Big is Beautiful (2 page)

"You're not."

Sure.
"Anyway. Thanks for stopping."

He smiled, showing his famous dimples. I was so gawking at him. "No problem. I'll see you later."

"Okay." I watched him walk through the double doors and snapped out of my daydreaming when the ten-minute bell rang. I started walking then hesitated. See me later? We didn't have any classes together.

I didn't dwell on that long. I had to get to my locker, get my books and to class before the bell rang again. Walking through the doors, I started mentally saying my mantra.
Head high. Eyes up. Shoulders back. You are just as important as they are to God. Head high. Eyes up…

I walked through the halls, which were filled to the gills with students. Easton High desperately needed to be rebuilt with more rooms, but so far it wasn't in the budget. So, for now and probably for my entire high school career, I'd be cramped in these halls, teetering like some sort of Thanksgiving float.

Stop that!
Suppressing my inner depressing monologue was another thing I had to do daily. If I let myself, I could go down the same path the others did and start calling myself names and getting myself down. Luckily, I had others to do that for me.

To keep my sanity, I had to stop. I wasn't ugly. People told me I had a pretty face and shiny hair. It was brown and long, to the middle of my back. Except every time I pulled it back in a ponytail I wondered how many chins I appeared to have. If it was two or less, I considered it a good morning. Of course, on the day I actually talked to Matt Taylor, my hair was pulled back in a slick ponytail — a three chin day. Joy.

I finally, blessedly, made it to my locker jammed between lockers 344 and 348. In an ironic turn of events, I'd been given a half locker, the locker that had to be miniature-sized for the whole unit to fit against the wall in the limited space. I had just enough room for my books and notebooks but nothing else. I couldn't throw my coat in there. Even my purse, when I had one, had to be kept on me. It stunk to have the
skinny
locker, quite frankly. The paranoia in me had to wonder if even the faculty was picking on me too. Surely not. Surely it had been a coincidence.

And on top of being in the 'skinny' locker, I was also right at the girls' bathroom. Being that close to the hub of sophomore female necessity meant there was a lot of traffic. As my luck would have it, I tended to block the door trying to get my books out of my backpack every morning. Anyone's booty would block it by the way the lockers were set up, but since mine was bigger than most, I got the awesome comments.

A very loud, very annoyed screech echoed toward me, and I knew the instant it berated my eardrums who it was. "You know, I'm all for helping the different and needy among us, but come on. Can't you move your butt so we can get to the restroom?"

Le sigh
. My morning meeting with Kendra Moses. Beautiful Kendra Moses with hair as blonde as an angel and the light blue eyes of a saint. Of course, she had the attitude of a know-it-all and the grammar of a sailor, so it all balanced out. She'd always been snarky, but when senior Matt Taylor started dating little sophomore her, she became even more so. When he broke up with her, she let the filter go completely. I guess I could understand. If someone as hot as Matt dumped me, I'd probably be a bit snarky too. Secretly, I wished they would get back together so she'd ease up on me.

"Sorry." I actually was pretty sorry that my
ginormous
bottom kept her and her friends out of the lavatory. How dare I take up more than my allotted space?

Trying not to push over Thomas Jenkins, band member, I moved over as much as I could. Thomas was nice enough to scoot over so I could have some extra room. After my butt had passed the bathroom door barrier, I heard Kendra's footsteps clomping by me, the breeze of her entourage followed close behind.

Then, as quickly as they started, they stopped. Here it went. My eyes rolled behind their lids, and I steadied myself for whatever insult Kendra had to throw at me. "You know, Big. I like your new coat."

My eyes opened automatically, and my defenses completely left me. A compliment from Kendra. Seriously? "Thanks," I said bewildered, and I wondered what the catch was.

"Yeah, it's very retro. Like from that '80s movie. I hear the giant marshmallow look is in." She laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. I had news for her. It wasn't.

"As are witches, lucky for you, since you don't have to wait until Halloween to dress up."

"What did you say to me?" Never had I seen her so upset. Smoke might have literally puffed from her diamond studded ears.

I simply smiled back, shut my locker and walked away. She yelled behind me, but I kept right on walking. I felt pretty good about myself. Score one for the backbone. One thing was for certain; Kendra wouldn't let my little remark go unanswered.

Chapter Two

First period English went fine. All about some dead poet I'd never heard of… which pretty much summed up all dead poets. Poetry wasn't my thing. Non-fiction things weren't either. Maybe if I were a history buff or something I'd like those types of stories. Personally, I'd rather read a romance… or a scary classic.

I muddled through English, trying my best to stay awake and then walked the Green Mile to math, more specifically, Geometry. I liked
math:
real American math that dealt with actual numbers, adding, and subtracting. I could even divide with the best of them.

But geometry…

My brain shut down and cried in a lonely corner when it came to geometry. In my mind, the devil's name wasn't
Lucifer
. His name was
Geometry
, and Hell consisted of nothing more than constant missing angles and the Pythagorean Theorem.

One would assume geometry would be easy. Most kids learned shapes in preschool or even younger. All of my shape-naming awesomeness went by the wayside in August during the first week of school when Ms. Bennett introduced us to congruent angles. It all went downhill from there.

With dread, I entered the brightly painted classroom. The joyful yellow and purple colors on the walls mocked me. It appeared the room knew how evil it was, so it disguised itself as something
not
, like a clown… or a politician.

If today was a good day and God found it in his heart to be by my side, I would simply walk to my desk, sit down, pull my papers out, and disappear into the ugly paint. Unfortunately for me, neither God nor the day had found favor with me so far. Two steps from my desk and Ms. Bennett called my name.

Pain gripped my chest. Sweat beaded on my brow. Time stood still…

Okay, none of that actually happened, but I did swallow hard, turn around, and saw the sweet little lady sitting at the podium at the front of the room motioning me toward her with a crooked finger. Her stylish, black-rimmed glasses made her big green eyes as large as mini-doughnuts. Much to my chagrin, they were shining.

When I arrived in front of the podium, Ms. Bennett hung her glasses on the collar of her white, buttoned-up blouse, shifted her legs under her ankle-length scarlet skirt, and smiled warmly. My stomach tightened, already knowing where this was going. "Hello, Brittany."

"Hi." My lips, without my consent, smiled back. I was too polite for my own good.

"Your mother called me yesterday."

Five more words I had never wanted to hear. "Yes, ma'am."

"Did she tell you about it?" She pushed a rogue strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Ms. Bennett always kept her hair in a bun or clip.

I shifted on my right foot and lowered my eyes to a very interesting string on my new, not-so-awesome coat. If only I could hide the stupid white thing in a nice, normal-sized locker. Oh well, silly dreams and all. "She did this morning."

Ms. Bennett sat up straighter in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "And?"

And… what? And I hated the idea of being even more humiliated at school? And I didn't want to have to stay at school any longer than I was forced to in the first place? And I was afraid people would find out and have more to tease me about?
Gracious, Big! Fat and stupid. Wonderful combination. Your mom must be proud.

Ms. Bennett hadn't moved or flinched or even twitched. She sat perfectly still, waiting my reply. Well, she wouldn't like it. "And I don't think I need it."

"You don't… think you need it."

Oh, I was sure I needed it but not at school, and definitely not during daylight hours. Maybe at home late at night when everyone else in the neighborhood had gone to bed. Maybe by a private tutor named Pierre who only spoke French and wouldn't tell anyone about me. "No, I think I'm doing fine."

Her brow rose higher than I thought humanly possible. Deep lines formed on her otherwise smooth forehead. "You've failed the last three quizzes and are barely…
barely
passing the semester, and I mean that by the slimmest of margins."

"Barely is better than not." I laughed nervously. From the way her head tilted down and her eyes drew together, I figured it was the wrong thing to say.

"You're pretty close to not. Face it, you need extra help. I have your tutor all lined up."

Of course you do.

"You may not believe this now, but geometry is important."

"Yeah, Big. Don't you know that?" Rodney Jacobs, sophomore slacker, slapped the hand of the guy beside of him like he'd come up with the funniest joke ever. He, of course, didn't understand geometry any more than I did, but he had people to cheat off of. I had no such friends. My bestie, Jillian, a freshman, hadn't gotten to geometry yet.

"Mr. Jacobs, call her that again and you'll find yourself in detention. Do you understand?" Ms. Bennett was a lady of small stature, but when she got ticked off, grown guys had been known to crumble. Rodney wasn't smart enough to crumble.

"I got it, Ms. Bennett." He winked, ran his hands though his greasy black hair, and nodded at her. "It's just…. It's geometry. How stupid can you be not to get it? It's shapes for crying out loud. If Big would spend more time studying and less time eating, she'd be a lot better off."

Ms. Bennett only smiled. "Rodney, since you have all of this free time to spend thinking of ways to mock people, I'll give you twenty extra problems to do for homework. Get that superior brain of yours working."

He sat up straighter in his chair. "You can't do that. I have baseball practice till seven."

"Twenty-five."

"Ms. Bennett, you can make me."

"Fifty." She glared like she was daring him to speak again. "I'd take the hint, Mr. Jacobs."

Rodney sank back in his seat; this time others were snickering at him. It was a strange feeling to see someone else on the receiving end of the laughter. His olive skin turned an angry shade of red, and he glared at me.

Ms. Bennett leaned closer to my ear, not taking her eyes off of Rodney. I leaned closer as well so whatever she had to say wasn't broadcast to the entire class. "Don't let him get to you, Brittany. You are a beautiful, sweet girl. Don't forget that."

Wanting to get to my seat as soon as possible at the back of the room, I nodded but didn't believe her. Mainly I agreed in order to get to her leave me alone. Adults were like that. If you agreed with them, even half-heartedly, they dropped it.

She nodded back, solidifying my theory. "I'll see you after school then."

"After school."

When I made it to my desk, I sank down into it. The bell rang and the class finally focused on Ms. Bennett who stood at the board explaining the Pythagorean Theorem. I couldn't say it, much less do it.

I opened my book to the page she instructed. As I looked over the words and symbols, it just looked like Chinese with some space language thrown in for good measure. It made no sense. At all.

The truly, embarrassingly sad part was that I tried to do my classwork on my own. I tried to find the right answer without having to ask for help. At the end of the period, Ms. Bennett checked my problems. All but two were wrong. She looked at me… I looked at her… and I knew. I needed help, but it didn't mean I wanted it.

The bell rang, and I got my stuff together, threw it into my bag like a messy backpack hoarder, and tried to get to the door as fast as I could. At three o'clock (and every three o'clock after that) I'd have to see the room again anyway. On the way out, my coat caught on the white board marker holder, and I had to fight to get away. Since I just 'had' to be one of the first ones out, several other people were waiting for me to move. Some tapped their feet. Some coughed words not fit for the civilized world. Trying to hurry to get away from them, I tugged too hard and tore a hole in my new coat. That settled it. The coat was cursed.

Even with the delay, I made it to my locker and third period biology without another incident. Nobody yelled or screamed, "Wide load," so I chalked it up to being a grand day at good ole EHS.

Lunch came. I dreaded it like always. Lunch for a person on the bigger side of life in high school could be equated to torture. If I ate too much, people shook their heads. If I didn't eat much, not only did people laugh and assume I was on a diet, but I did, in fact, remain hungry the rest of the day.

Since I had tutoring, (The word sounded nasty on my tongue. Even hand sanitizer guzzled by the gallon probably wouldn't make my mouth clean now.) I had no intention of not eating. After a brief time of contemplation, I settled on chicken strips and a salad. The salad was a risk. Most of the time, people saw a larger girl with a salad and rolled their eyes. At the time, I didn't care that much. I liked salads, especially when Margie was there to cut up real bacon. The other cooks only put out generic bacon bits, but not Margie. Margie was a good woman.

Luckily for me, Kendra Moses was in the dining room talking about her new car. She'd gotten her hardship license to drive early, so people wouldn't notice me as much. Small favors and all.

I took my tray to the table and sat with Jillian. She and I had eaten lunch together every day since August. It happened by accident, actually. I'd been sitting. She was new and didn't know where she fit in. She sat with me, and we'd been sitting together ever since. Slowly, we started chatting and found out that we had a lot in common, specifically our love of sci-fi TV and old '90s movies.