would assume I’m jealous. And that’s not what this is about. This is about him making it perfectly clear that people in bodies like mine are failures.”
Clem nods sympathetically. This—fatness—has always been the one frontier where we have trouble connecting, but she’s always been here to listen and always stands up for my body—even when I’m the one bashing it.
“I know being fat wasn’t easy for him. It’s not easy for anyone, but the difference is that I think I’d enjoy my life a hell of a lot more if I didn’t spend every ounce of energy trying to starve myself. Even now, you’ve seen the way he is with food and how intense he is about working out. He’s terrified of ever looking like me again. There’s nothing wrong about thinking about what you eat or working out. I love dancing!”
“I know you do,” says Clem. “And singing. And lip-synching. Which is exactly why you should take a chance and sign up for amateur night.”
“I don’t have time for that, and even if I did . . . there’s no way.”
She pushes at my shoulder. “Stop it! You were amazing at that party. Now’s the time!”
I shake my head. But then I remember the sheer joy I felt performing on that coffee table. “I would only do it if you were there with me the whole time.”
She’s not so quick to answer. “I have something on Friday, but maybe I can make it work.”
I scoff playfully. “I’m sorry to interrupt your super-busy schedule.”
“It’s not that. It’s just that there’s a meetup happening in Odessa for University of Georgia incoming first-years. It’s like a chill coffee-shop thing and there aren’t even that many of us, but I should totally be back in time. I’ll have to meet you there, but I promise I’ll be there, okay?”
“How are you even getting there?”
“I thought I could take Beulah?”
I scoff. “You’re scared of driving outside of parking lots.”
She shrugs. “Time to face my fears.”
Soon Clem and I won’t have to deal with who needs the car to go where, and I’m going to miss every second of it. I haven’t done a very good job of supporting her and her big move, but it’s time I do. “I should drive you. There will be more amateur nights.”
She shakes my shoulders. “No! Heck no. This is way too big to miss. We’re going to be doing lots of things apart from each other pretty soon. Think of this as practice.”
“I don’t wanna,” I half joke.
She takes my hand and runs her finger over the silver polish on my nails. “I’ll get Hannah to drive you and I’ll meet y’all there. I promise.
“You promise-promise?”
“Promise-promise.”
Thirty
After giving myself a full day to mope, I wake up on Wednesday morning ready to make something happen.
Yesterday after first period, Tucker handed me a note. I waited until last night to read it, and after a good angry cry, I fell asleep with it balled up in my fist.
Waylon—
By now I guess you’ve heard that I dropped out of prom court. I was only in it for you, honestly, and I’d rather people vote for Hannah instead of me, anyway. Before I quit, I talked to Principal A and got the OK for us to paint a wall in the 300s hall. I marked it with an X. I can still help you with the project, though. All you have to do is ask.
—Tucker
Ask Tucker Watson for anything? Fat chance.
The real problem is that I need something from Kyle, and in order to talk to Kyle, I have to talk to Kyle.
I stay behind after choir is dismissed, shooing both Clem and Hannah ahead of me, and catch him on the way out the door. “I think we should talk,” I tell him.
Alex looks to Kyle, who nods.
Kyle leads me back into the choir room, which is empty since Ms. Jennings left for lunch.
We sit on the bleachers, and at the same time, we both blurt, “I’m sorry.”
“Let me go first,” I say.
“No, no, please. Let me,” Kyle says. “I need to say something.”
I nod. “Go ahead.”
“I . . . when you said all those things you said the other day, my first instinct was that you were wrong and that you couldn’t see past yourself. So that’s why I apologized, because I figured I would say sorry and it would be over and we could graduate in two weeks and move on. But then everything you said started to