Big is Beautiful Read Free Page B

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.
    Jillian wasn't a knock-out but not dog-ugly either. She had a sweet, heart-shaped face, petite frame, pretty honey-blond hair past her shoulders, which she normally wore in loose curls, and a smile that made everything okay. I wish I had classes with her.
    It was nice to talk to her through lunch, but I didn't tell her about tutoring. Truthfully, I didn't want her to know. It was embarrassing enough without my friend finding out about it. Of course, I knew she would someday, but it didn't have to be today. So, I mainly listened as Jillian went on and on about Oliver Donaldson. Oliver, I found out, was new to the school and sat behind her in Algebra I, a math class I could get behind. They had talked; numbers were exchange… well, I think they were exchanged. I might have missed that part. Jillian talked a mile a minute when she was excited.
    I was very glad for my friend, who deserved to be happy, but a bit sad for myself. If things went the way they were supposed to, Jillian and Oliver would be all over each other. She might even stop sitting with me at lunch and wait to eat with him (She said he ate at the end of fourth period which she could swing with her classes.), and where would I be? The third wheel. Or even more depressing: alone. It was selfish, but it hurt.
    Still, I plastered on my brightest smile knowing my cheeks must look like Santa's jolly ones. I'd win an award for acting if anyone could see my insides because I was miserable. I didn't end up eating my chicken because my stomach was too upset. Jillian, Oliver, tutoring, Kendra and the