Halfway to Perfect (2 page)

You’d never
know it to look at her skinny little self, but Dyamonde loves food. If there were a class in eating, she’d get an A plus every time.

Dyamonde treats all food fairly. She likes Mexican tacos, Chinese egg rolls, and Cuban beans and rice. She eats beef hot dogs, turkey
burgers and fried chicken. Actually, she likes just about anything that has chicken in it: noodle soup, potpie, even chicken salad sandwiches.

Dyamonde doesn’t have much use for vegetables, but she loves broccoli, mostly because each spear looks like a tree. And she loves fruit—especially peaches, cherries, and grapes of any size or color. Dyamonde also loves some foods that other people don’t, like cottage cheese and applesauce mixed together.

“Yuck!” said Free the first time he saw her eat some.

“Oh,
puleeze
!” said Dyamonde, stirring in a little more applesauce. “You just wish you had a bowlful!”

Yes, Dyamonde loves all sorts of food, but her absolute favorite food in the whole wide world is spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread. And guess what Mrs. Daniel had made the last time Free and Damaris came over?

Dyamonde couldn’t wait to sit down for dinner. The minute the bowl of spaghetti was placed on the table, Dyamonde’s mouth began to water. Free licked his lips and reached for the bowl.

Dyamonde cut her eyes at Free with a look that said,
Not yet!
Damaris closed her eyes and waited until Mrs. Daniel finished saying grace, then she reached for the basket of garlic bread.

“Don’t forget the salad,” said Mrs. Daniel. Dyamonde scrunched up her nose, but she grabbed a few lettuce leaves to make her mom happy. Free plucked out a couple of tomatoes and a slice of cucumber, but Damaris filled up her whole salad plate.

“Yum,” said Damaris.

“Double yum!” said Free, his
mouth already smeared with spaghetti sauce.

“Gross!” said Dyamonde. But Free ignored her. He was too busy making his tummy happy.

Mrs. Daniel smiled, especially when Damaris asked for seconds.

Free looked like one of those cartoon chipmunks, his cheeks were so full of food. Mrs. Daniel shook her head.

“Free, if you don’t watch it,” she said, “you’ll blow up like a balloon!”

“Yeah,” said Dyamonde. “Then I’ll have to poke a hole in you and
watch you fly around the room backwards till all the air comes out!”

Dyamonde and Free looked at each other and laughed.

Damaris didn’t laugh, though. She just put down her fork, saying she was full.

“What about dessert?” asked Mrs. Daniel. “You saved room for that, didn’t you?”

“No, thank you,” whispered Damaris. “I think I’ve had enough.”

Free shrugged. “More for me!” he said, grinning. But something
in Damaris’s voice bothered Dyamonde.

“Are you okay?” she asked her friend.

Damaris nodded, so Dyamonde let it drop.

Dyamonde was amazed
at the silly things kids talked about at school. Take the next day. Dyamonde was in the girls’ room, taking care of her business, when she overheard three girls blabbing away over the loud sputter of the water faucet going full blast. It
was the Three T’s, Tanya, Tylisha and Tameeka. Dyamonde would know their voices anywhere. Damaris was there too, but Dyamonde didn’t know it.

“Well, I may be the youngest in class,” said Tylisha, “but I also weigh the least.”

“So what?” said Tanya. “I’m the most popular.”

“You wish!” said Tylisha.

“Ugh!” said Tanya. “I’ve got to go on a diet. I don’t want to turn into a little piggy like Amberline.”

“She’s not
that
big,” said Tameeka.

“Are you kidding? Have you seen her pouchy belly?” asked Tylisha.

“Oh,” said Tameeka. “Yeah.”

“She must be stuffing her face when no one’s watching,” said Tanya.

“Like when she’s by herself,” said Tameeka.

“Which is all the time, since nobody wants to be her friend,” said Tylisha.

“I know!” said Tameeka. “It’s sad.”

“Well, it’s her own fault,” said Tylisha. “That’s what she gets for being so pushy.”

After that, Dyamonde heard the faucet switch off. The girls’ voices faded away as the three left, their sneakers squeaking against the tile floor.

Dyamonde straightened her clothes and went to wash her hands. That’s when she saw Damaris pinching her waist and frowning at her reflection in the mirror.

“What’s the matter?” asked Dyamonde.

Damaris dropped her arms to her sides when she realized Dyamonde was there staring at her.

“You scared me!” said Damaris.

“Sorry,” said Dyamonde. “But what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Damaris, switching on the faucet.

“Then how come your face is all scrunched up like you’re about ready to cry?”

Damaris bit her lip, scrubbing her hands as if they had never been washed.

“It’s no big deal,” she said.

Dyamonde wasn’t having it. She knew something was wrong. She crossed her arms and waited, staring Damaris down.

After a minute of this, Damaris
felt her shoulders sag. She dried her hands and turned to face her friend.

“I think I’m getting fat,” said Damaris, almost in a whisper.

Dyamonde blinked. “What?”

“I think I’m getting fat.”

Dyamonde started to laugh, but Damaris gave her such a sharp look, Dyamonde stopped mid-giggle.

“I’m sorry,” said Dyamonde, “but who told you that?”

“Nobody. But you heard them call Amberline a piggy, right?”

Dyamonde nodded.

“Well, I’m practically the same size as Amberline, so I must look like a piggy too.”

“No, you don’t!” said Dyamonde. “They were just being mean. Amberline is not fat, and neither are you.”

Damaris did not look convinced.

Dyamonde put her hands on Damaris’s shoulders and spun her around to face the mirror again.

“Look at you,” said Dyamonde. “You are perfect just the way you are.”

Dyamonde gave Damaris a squeeze.

“Maybe not as perfect as
me,
” said Dyamonde, “but you’re at least halfway, and that’s pretty close!”

Damaris was surprised to see her lips curling into a little smile.

Dyamonde bumped hips with her. “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

Damaris followed Dyamonde out into the hall. Dyamonde didn’t know it, but by the time the girls reached homeroom, Damaris’s smile had slipped away.

“Ooooh!”
said Dyamonde later that day when she and her friends entered the lunchroom. “Check out the menu. They’ve got chicken nuggets and mashed potatoes. Yum!” Dyamonde licked her lips. Her taste buds began to sing before she’d even taken the first bite.

“Now
this
is what I’m talking about!” said Free, digging in. “This is way better than that nasty meat loaf they had yesterday.” Those were the last words Free spoke until his plate was clean. He was too busy shoveling food into his mouth to talk.

“Dang, Free!” said Dyamonde. “You act like you’ve never seen food before in your life!” Free grunted and stuffed another forkful of food into his mouth.

Hopeless,
thought Dyamonde.

Just then, Tylisha passed by, took one look at the plate in front of
Damaris and whispered in her ear, “If I had your hips, I’d skip the mashed potatoes.” Then she joined Tanya and Tameeka at another table.

Damaris winced.

“What?” asked Dyamonde. “What did she say?”

Damaris made herself shrug. “Nothing,” she said.

Dyamonde didn’t believe her, but she didn’t press.

Damaris glanced around the cafeteria and noticed Amberline sitting nearby, nibbling on a carrot. Damaris immediately sucked
in her stomach and sat up a little straighter. Then she picked up a baby carrot with her fork and took a teensy bite.

“Summer break is almost here,” said Damaris.

“Three weeks!” said Dyamonde.

“You know what that means,” said Damaris.

“Picnics,” said Dyamonde.

“Trips to the zoo,” said Damaris.

“Italian ices!” said Dyamonde.

“The city swimming pool!” said Damaris.

“Cotton candy,” said Dyamonde.

Both girls put their forks down.
“Coney Island!” they said in one voice.

Free burped loud enough to remind them that he was there.

“You did
not
just do that!” said Dyamonde.

“What?” asked Free, all innocent.

“Oh,
puleeze
!” said Dyamonde. She shook her head.
That boy has no manners!

Dyamonde turned her attention back to her meal, stabbing her fork into one chicken nugget after another until they were all gone. She was scraping the last bit of potato off her plate when she
noticed that Damaris’s plate was still full.

“Why aren’t you eating?” asked Dyamonde.

“What are you talking about?” asked Damaris. “Didn’t you just see me make those carrots disappear?”

“Yeah, but you hardly touched anything else,” said Dyamonde.

“Well,” said Damaris, “I guess I’m just not that hungry.”

“Okay,” said Dyamonde, not sure whether to believe her friend.

“Hey, if you’re not eating those nuggets, can I have ’em?” asked Free.

Damaris nodded, pushing her plate across the table. She finished off her carrots and then the three friends headed out to the school yard until the bell rang.

Dyamonde stole a few glances at Damaris, wondering if her friend had told the truth about not being hungry. Dyamonde got her answer back in the classroom when she heard her friend’s stomach growl.

For the next couple of days, Dyamonde studied Damaris at lunchtime to see how much she ate, and every day she watched Damaris move food around her
plate without actually eating more than a bite or two. Dyamonde started to worry about her friend, especially when she noticed Damaris’s blue jeans starting to sag.

“I know what you’re doing,” Dyamonde whispered to her one afternoon. “You’re dieting, aren’t you?” It was more of an accusation than a question.

Damaris shrugged. “So what?”

“I knew it!” said Dyamonde. “But why?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” said Damaris. “You’re already like
a toothpick, but I need to lose weight.”

“No,” said Dyamonde, “you don’t. I already told you that you are fine just the way you are.”

Damaris shook her head. “You’re just saying that because you’re my friend.”

“No, I’m not,” said Dyamonde. “I mean, yeah, I’m your friend. But that’s not why I said it.”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?” begged Damaris.

“Okay,” said Dyamonde. But
it wasn’t. Dyamonde was worried about her friend. She’d seen pictures of girls who practically looked like skeletons from dieting too much. She didn’t want to see that happen to Damaris.

I wish I could make Damaris see herself like I do,
thought Dyamonde.
But how?