Fat

• Elise Holland, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2016

I walk down the hallway, why do I do this? One sizeable hand holds my paper lunch bag and the other, a cupcake. The homemade cupcake is the same as always: vanilla with pink icing in the formation of a pig. My mother knows how much I love pigs. My mouth waters every time I open my lunch bag and see it, neat and ready for me to devour.
Someone knocks into me as they race toward the cafeteria. I watch him as he rushes past, his hair whipping around him. Rolling my eyes, I reach the crowded cafeteria.
Everyone is seated as expected: the skinny cheerleaders laughing at the jokes made by the jocks; the nerds who discuss the latest math exam; and everyone else, sitting at the tables in groups, gossiping about the school's drama.
The table that I sit at is unoccupied. I throw my lunch bag onto the garbage-littered table. I land onto the three seats I fit on and pull my sandwich from the bag and eat it. I look into my lap, aware that my peers are laughing at me. I ignore them, accustomed to their scrutiny of my weight. I will say it loud and clear for everyone to hear:
I am fat.
I am 250 pounds and not proud. That's cliché: "I'm fat and proud." No one's proud to be obese at 16. I live with not being able to wear the nicest clothes. I live with being physically unable to do average teenager activities. I live void of friends. I LIVE.
"Amanda, you fatty!" Some jock a few tables away calls.
I'm impervious to the comments as I throw the plastic wrapping aside. Pulling the delicacy out of its paper case, it raises to my lips, readily filling my mouth with its sugary taste.
Someone comes up behind me, warm breath cascading down the back of my neck. "Oink, oink!"
I glare before taking another bite of the cupcake, its sweetness masking any sense of insecurity. As soon as I lick the remnants of the pink icing off my lips, someone sits beside me.
I freeze, from the corner of my eye I see who's here to torment me now. It's the boy who bumped into me earlier:
"Hey."
I stare at him, dazed at why he would be talking to me, Amanda Barnes; the fatty.
I don't speak. He says, "I'm new here, I was wondering if this happens to you daily? The laughing and the comments about your...weight?"
"Feels like every minute" I say quietly. I see the look on his face and say, "It's OK, I'm used to it."
He slumps, unsure of what to say. He looks me in the eyes, he’s pitiful. "You have no friends?"
I shake my head, staring into my lap.
"You're lying," he says, making me snap up. "You've got one friend."
Hope surges through me like a speeding train. "Who?" I ask, though I'm sure of the answer.
"Me."