Blob
Blob
Blob
Frieda Wishinsky
O
rca
C
urre
n
ts
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
Copyright © 2010 Frieda Wishinsky
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording or by any information storage
and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without
permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Wishinsky, Frieda
Blob / written by Frieda Wishinsky.
(Orca currents)
ISBN 978-1-55469-182-1 (bound).--ISBN 978-1-55469-181-4 (pbk.)
I. Title. II. Series: Orca currents
PS8595.I834B56 2010Â Â Â Â jC813'.54 Â Â Â Â C2009-906831-1
First published in the United States,
2010
Library of Congress Control Number:
2009940776
Summary:
Eve is overweight, and her self-image is suffering until she
joins a mentoring program and learns to accept herself the way she is.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing
programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada
through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts, and
the Province of British Columbia
through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Cover design by Teresa Bubela
Cover photography by Getty Images
Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 5626, Station B
Victoria, BC Canada
V8R 6S4
Orca Book Publishers
PO Box 468
Custer, WA USA
98240-0468
www.orcabook.com
Printed and bound in Canada.
Printed on 100% PCW recycled paper.
13 12 11 10 ⢠4 3 2 1
Contents
“I never forget a face, but in your case I'll be glad to make an exception.”
âGroucho Marks
It's the first day of school and my heart is pounding. It always pounds on the first day, but this year is worse. We moved to a new neighborhood this summer, and I'm starting high school. I know almost no one at South View Highâexcept Sarah.
I'm glad she'll be there. I've known her since grade three. She was away in California this summer, but we spoke on the phone last week. She's as nervous about high school as I am.
I hurry toward the red brick building.
Phew!
Sarah is standing on the top step talking to Zoe Campbell. I didn't know Zoe was going to South View. Zoe towers over Sarah. Zoe used to be short. I can't believe how much she grew over the summer.
I'm almost at the bottom step. I'm about to call out to Sarah and tell her to wait up. Before I can say a word, I hear Zoe. “Are you still friends with Eve?” Her words blast out.
What? I stop walking. Why is Zoe talking about me? Why is she talking so loudly that all the kids rushing into school can hear?
Sarah nods.
“I saw Eve on the street this summer,” says Zoe. “She's gotten
so
fat. She looks like a blob.”
I feel like a herd of horses are stomping through my chest. I want to turn and run, but my feet are glued to the pavement.
“She's just a little overweight,” says Sarah.
“Have you seen her gut? It jiggles like jelly. She must have hit on every candy bar in the city. I'd be embarrassed to be seen with her.” Zoe tosses her long brown hair.
“I'm not embarrassed.” Sarah's voice is shaky and uncertain.
I want to shout,
Sarah! This is me
you're talking about. Me! Eve! Your friend.
Tell Zoe I'm not a blob. Tell her I'm your
friend, and you don't care what she says.
But Sarah says nothing. Kids pass me up the stairs and into the building.
I watch Sarah and Zoe walk into school as the bell rings.
Blob!
The word hammers through my head.
Blob. Blob. Blob.
I know I've gained weight this summer. Almost none of my clothes fit me anymore. I'm wearing a pair of jeans that were loose last year. Now I can barely zip them up. And I can't button the top button. I've used a safety pin instead.
My dad's big shirts cover my bulging middle, but he's complaining that he has nothing to wear. I've been taking all his good shirts.
It was that dumb job at the convenience store. Every time the owner barked at me, I ate. She barked all the time, so I ate all the time. I ate cookies, pretzels, potato chips and ice cream. A double chocolate cone always cheers me up.
Now I'm fat and I'm going to be the butt of Zoe's jokes. Why does she have to go to this school? Why is she being snarky about me? What did I ever do to her?
And what's with Sarah? It looks like I can't count on her to stand up for me.
Why did I let myself snack all summer? If I hadn't, I wouldn't look like this. Then Zoe couldn't call me a blob.
The bell rings again. I know I have to go in, but I can't move. If I don't run, I'm going to be late. Then everyone will stare at me when I walk into class.
I force my feet to move. I dash into the building. Now I'm sweating. My armpits are getting so damp little ponds are forming. I race down the hall and sweat drips from my face. I dab at it with a crumpled tissue. I hope I don't smell as sweaty as I feel.
I fly into room eight, my new homeroom.
I spy Sarah sitting in the third row, and I slide in beside her. She gives me a half smile. I take a deep breath. Calm down, I tell myself. She's still your friend.
That's when I see the note. Sarah tries to shove it into her English book, but I read it before she hides it. It's written in big black letters.
No one wants to hang around with
a Blob, Sarah. Trust me. See you later.
“A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked.”
âBernard Meltzer
I know Zoe wrote the note. Zoe and I never hung around together in middle school, but we weren't enemiesâat least not till today. Why is she treating me like this?
“Hi, Sarah,” I mutter.
“Hi, Eve,” Sarah answers, but she doesn't look up from her book. I know she wonders if I read the note.
Our homeroom teacher, Ms. Roberts, talks about rules, schedules and clubs, but all I can think about is that note in Sarah's book. All I can hear is the word
blob
ringing in my ear.
I remember Annie Lucas in middle school. Annie was tall and fat. Kids called her Porky, Blubber, Beach Ball, Elephant Girl. They came up with a new nasty name every day. Annie never said a word. She hardly spoke to anyone. She sat alone at lunch, munching the same sandwich day after dayâegg salad with gobs of mayonnaise. I used to feel sorry for her, but I never tried to be her friend. I never said anything more than hello to her. I wasn't mean or anything, but I ignored her.
Sarah pokes me in the side. I look up.
“Eve Richards, are you here?” asks Ms. Roberts.
“Yes,” I answer.
“I've called your name twice already. Please pay attention.”
“Sorry,” I mutter.
I see Zoe roll her eyes at Sarah. She mouths the words “stupid blob.” A blond girl sitting beside Zoe laughs. Zoe puffs her cheeks and laughs too.
“What's going on?” Ms. Roberts snaps at Zoe.
“Nothing,” says Zoe with a straight face.
“Then let's continue,” says Ms. Roberts.
When the bell rings, I check my schedule. I have English with Mr. London after homeroom. “What's your first class?” I ask Sarah.
“Math.” Sarah sticks her schedule into her backpack and stands up. “See you.”
“Great. See you at lunch.”
“I don't know if we have the same lunch hour,” she says.
“When's yours?” I ask.
“Twelve.”
“Mine too.”
“Oh,” says Sarah. “I guess I'll see you then. I'd better hurry. Math is on the second floor.”
Sarah gives me a half wave and hurries out of the room. Zoe and the blond girl walk out too. I hear Zoe call, “Hey, Sarah. Wait up.”
Why does Sarah want to be friends with Zoe? Why is Sarah unfriendly to me? I'm still the same person I was last year. Why is everything different now? Is it because I gained weight?
Thoughts whip around my head like a cyclone.
I want to stop thinking about this, but I can't. I don't want to go to my next class. I want to go home.
I take a deep breath. I tell myself I don't care that Sarah doesn't want to be friends. If that's the way she's going to act, she's not worth it. But no matter what I tell myself, I still feel like I've been socked in the stomach.
I pick up my backpack and head for room twelve. I walk slowly. Each step feels like a mile.
I can barely swallow. My saliva tastes like sour milk. I rummage in my backpack for a mint. I pop it into my mouth, but it doesn't help. Oh great! Now I probably have bad breath too! I am fat and sweaty, and I have bad breath. I'm a mess.
What if I'm Annie Lucas this year? What if I sit alone at lunch every day? What if I have no one to talk to, and Zoe keeps calling me names?
No! No! I can't be Annie Lucas. I have to do something.
I imagine punching Zoe in the face and knocking her teeth out. A toothless Zoe would have trouble calling me names. I smile at the thought. I know I could never do that, even if she deserves it. I've never hit anyone, except Robbie Peters in kindergarten. He had stomped on my toe to grab a racing car before I did. I had to sit in the time-out seat for half an hour for that. What can I do about Zoe? Maybe I could call her a snake. Match her nasty name for nasty name. She's as skinny as a snake and just as poisonous. But snake doesn't sound that bad. I have to think of a nastier name.
I feel a sharp jab in my shoulder. I hear someone yell, “Ouch!”
I look up.
I've collided with a boy. “Watch where you're going, stupid,” he snarls.
“Sorry,” I say.
He growls and walks away.
It's only 10:00 am, and I hate school already.
“If you let a bully intimidate you, he's going to do it again.”
âCharles Djou
Mr. London talks about the books we'll be reading, the essays we'll be writing and the exams we' l l be taking. Why does school always start with lists and schedules?
Luckily in the last five minutes of class, Mr. London gives me another idea. He tells us about how he volunteered in a literacy program in Africa this summer. He visited an animal preserve and saw lions, tigers and gerenuks, which are a kind of gazelle. He says it's amazing how tall gerenuks are when you view them up close. He showed us a picture of one and it's a skinny, weirdlooking animal.
Gerenuk! That's what I'll call Zoe. She probably has no idea what a gerenuk is. It sounds like something ugly though, and if I say it in just the right insulting voice it might work.
I'll fire off my insult as soon as Zoe hits me with
blob
. I have to stand up to Zoe or she'll never stop. Annie Lucas never stood up to anyone, and the kids pounded her with insults day after day. I can't let that happen to me.
I feel better as I head off to art class. Ms. Holmes, my art teacher, only spends ten minutes talking about schedules and rules. We start a project right away. We have to design ads for our favorite food. Favorite food? Easy! Chocolate, of course. I come up with this:
WANT TO GO TO HEAVEN AND
STILL STAY ON EARTH?
EAT CHOCOLATE.
Ms. Holmes says it's original, fun and to the point. I feel great.
I draw a giant chocolate bar with angel wings. The bar is sailing through the air toward the open hand of a girl. She's looking longingly up at it. She can't wait to grab it. Eat it. Enjoy it.
The bar looks so delicious I want to eat it. I wish I had chocolate with my lunch. But I'd be nuts to eat chocolate. It will only make me blobbier. No matter how much I love chocolate, I have to resist it. It's healthy food from now till all my fat is gone.
The bell rings. Kids fly out of classrooms. I walk alone down the crowded hall toward the lunchroom. All I can think about is Zoe and Sarah. What if Zoe has the same lunch hour as us? What if she makes another crack about me in front of everyone? What if Sarah ignores me?
I tell myself it's just lunch. It's not the dentist or jail. But my stomach feels like marbles are banging around inside it. My mouth feels as dry as if I jammed a box of stale crackers into it.
