The Fat Boy Chronicles (10 page)

Every day I go to gym, I get nervous thinking about what they're going to do that day. Not all the kids bother me but those who don't just stand around and watch. They're probably glad I'm there so they don't get picked on. Just once I'd like for someone to stand up to Nate and his buddies. Maybe tonight in church, something good will happen. Youth group is usually fun. I hope Paul is there. High school is hard.

Friday, 12–8

Remember the mousetrap car contest? Well, today was the day that counted. As a grade. Everyone in the class had fixed their car so it would go faster and I thought I should too. But when I let the spring go, it just barely rolled. I got so flustered, I had no clue how to fix it. Whatever I tried didn't work and finally I had my last try. The wheels hardly turned; a turtle could've crawled faster. Nate said, “Nice going, Winterpock. Aren't they supposed to do better the second day?” A few people laughed but I pretended I didn't hear them. I couldn't look at Whitney but I knew what she was thinking. If I had done nothing to it, maybe I could have won. Oh well, at least I had fun the other day when it went a long way. This kid named Leo won.

Now we have to turn in our data and our teacher told us that we should learn from our mistakes. If that's the case, I should learn lots.
What he meant was that our car should go farther the second time but mine didn't. I wish I could swap my days and then I would have been deemed the next Einstein. Turtle car to rocket engine all in one day. I still haven't figured out what went wrong.

Youth group was fun on Wednesday night. I am so glad too because the rest of the week was not too enjoyable. Paul showed up and we played SSX Tricky on the GameCube at church. Then we played some more Foosball, but Sable didn't chase the ball under the table this time. I don't know what we're doing this weekend, so maybe Paul can come over. There is a playoff game tonight but I don't think I'll go. Allen isn't going so I don't know who I'd sit with anyway. I'd sit with Sable, but she might be with her other friends and they don't really talk to me much. I'll stay home and watch a movie or see how fast I can go through the levels of Super Smash Brothers.

Sunday, 12–10

Paul wasn't allowed to come over this weekend. He's grounded again; his parents wouldn't even let him go to church. He's in bigger trouble than ever because last week he snuck out of the house and took his parents' car. He drove over to the predator's house and knocked on his door. The predator answered the door, and Paul said he had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Paul swears it was a Marlboro. He told the guy he was on a committee to protect the parks in the area and asked the guy if he would sign this fake petition he
had made up on his computer. Paul said the guy was real nice and signed right away. He even asked Paul if he wanted to come in for a Coke, but Paul freaked out and took off. When he got home, his parents were waiting for him. He said it was really ugly because his mother was drunk and his father was in one of his out–of–control rages. Paul hid out in the woods until his father calmed down. He said he felt safer in the woods where there was a murder than in the house with his father. I told him to let the whole murder thing go, but I know he won't listen to me. Guess I won't be seeing a whole lot of Paul.

Monday, 12–11

I saw another one of my sister's friends in the hall this morning. She is usually pretty nice to me, but when I raised my hand to wave she started talking to her friends. Maybe she didn't see me. As if that's possible. My bus was late this morning, so I had to walk into first period after class had started. Mr. Mackey stopped talking and waited for me to sit down. Then he said, “Well, Winterpock, thanks for dropping by.” I told him our bus was late and just as he began to say something else, the announcement came on that Bus 34 just arrived. He kinda smirked at me and went back to giving notes on plate tectonics. I had to catch up.

Lunch today was so good. Turkey and dressing and mashed potatoes, and it's not even Christmas. And we had rolls. Soft and warm, they must be the one thing that all cafeteria people learn how to make. Our cooks are actually pretty good for a school cafeteria.
Last year, our food was awful, but I would eat it anyway because I would be so hungry. The rolls would be hard and dry, like eating a piece of cardboard (not that I know what that tastes like but I can imagine). Everything would be brown—the rolls, the fried chicken, the corn, the lettuce, even chocolate milk.

You probably wonder if my mom still makes lunch for me. She does but I save it for the ride home. My bus driver doesn't say anything to me about it; he's probably glad I'm not throwing things or cutting up. We have one kid that used to cuss at cars. One day, he yelled at the wrong car. The man driving it was an off–duty policeman and he called his buddies and they stopped the bus. This kid Jeremy was so scared. They made him get off the bus and tell them his phone number. The police called his mom and told her what Jeremy had done. I think he got in big trouble. He doesn't yell out the window anymore.

Wednesday, 12–13

On the bus this morning someone threw a paper wad at me and hit the back of my head. I didn't turn around because that just makes things worse. I looked at the driver in the mirror above his head— he glanced at me over his glasses and went back to driving. Then I got hit again. I still didn't move and someone, I think it was this kid named Ricky, said, “He's got so much cushion, he can't even feel it.” I felt my neck turn red and I couldn't help it, but I spun around and yelled, “Yes, I can. Every time. All year I've felt it.” They were shocked. When I faced front again, our bus driver was smiling. The guys in the back were quiet for one second and then they went back to being obnoxious. For the rest of that ride, at least, they left me alone.

Friday, 12–15

Allen's coming over tonight to hang out and have some cake and stuff. My mom's an awesome cook and makes the best chocolate cake. I invited Spencer over, but he was busy with soccer again. Paul's still grounded for taking the car out. I feel sorry for him. Even before the murder, his parents picked on him all the time for nothing. Half the time his mom is so out of it, she yells at him for what she imagines he said, and his dad just looks for stuff to yell at him about. And then they get all mad because Paul can't take it anymore and goes nuts and starts screaming back at them. It makes it worse that Paul's the only kid. Now that his father is out of work, he has nothing else to do but sit around and wait for Paul to mess up. Well, I hope his dad is happy now, because Paul finally did something really bad (stealing the car, hello!) for them to get all bent out of shape about.

Paul told me that when he was a little kid, he would try to get lost at the mall so that another family would find him and adopt him. But that just backfired on him because his dad would whip him for fooling around and not keeping up. My dad calls stuff like that a catch–22. That's an air force term that means there's no way you can win, but you keep trying anyway.

Saturday, 12–16

Please Don't Read This Page

It stinks that Paul is grounded. Other than Allen, I don't have anyone to hang around with.

When I was little, it was easy to make friends. My parents would take my sister and me up to Lake Cowan in the summer, and after Mom spread the beach towels, I would run to the lake and jump in. My sister did the same thing. We both looked around for kids our own age, and in minutes we would both find someone to play with. My sister is two years older than me, so I wouldn't see her for the rest of the day. That was fine with me, because I found my own group of kids. We would play all day, and the new kids I met didn't care if I was chubby.

Mom always had a hard time getting me to come in for lunch. She enticed me with the promise of ice cream and candy, so I'd leave my buddies for the promise of sweets. It always worked.

When did it change? When did kids start caring about how fat I was? It wasn't until middle school, maybe 6th grade, that I noticed I was different from most kids my age. That's when the fat jokes started. Then Tommy Underwood pushed me down one day after school. I was waiting for the bus when he ran into me on purpose. I had a heavy backpack on and I lost my balance and fell over. “Humpty Dumpty had a big fall!” he hollered. “Four–eyed lard butt!” The other kids who saw me fall laughed, and Susan London said, “His heinie's so fat, he has to sit at a special desk.” That wasn't exactly true. In some classes, I sat at a table with a regular chair instead of one with an
attached desk, but there were some skinny kids who sat at the tables too. They were usually the slow kids or the ones with “emotional problems” or EPs, as some people called them. (Not me, though. I'm not THAT mean.) By the time the bus showed up, all the kids were whispering and laughing. I wanted to tell on them but knew that would only make things worse. So, I quickly got on the bus and sat in the first seat and acted like I was really into studying my math book. The kids didn't say much to me on the bus, ‘cause they didn't want to make Mrs. Westby, our bus driver, mad.

My face got all scratched up from the fall, and my mom asked me about it when I got home. I lied and said that I fell during PE. I felt bad about lying to her, but she would get too upset if she knew how bad things were for me. She set out a plate of her homemade cinnamon buns and a glass of chocolate milk. The reason I remember that day is not because I was knocked down at the bus stop, but because my mom only let me have three buns. “Might spoil your dinner,” she said when I reached for a fourth bun. I thought she was being mean, because she knew no matter how many buns I ate, I would always eat my dinner.

Sunday, 12–17

I told my mom I didn't want any more of her cinnamon buns. She uses butter in them, and that's really bad for you. I've been reading about obesity online, and found several sites that talk about weight loss. I printed out some of the pages and gave them to my
mom. She was really surprised, and then she got all sad. As she read the pages, she looked up at me and her eyes started watering. She said she would help me lose the weight. She even said she was thinking about signing up for Weight Watchers. She's overweight too, but it never seems to bother her that much. But I guess if you're heavy, it always bothers you. I tried to picture my mother skinny, like she was in her wedding pictures. She always jokes about how children equal weight.

My mom said the first thing we need to do is get rid of all the junk food in the house. We went through the pantry and took all the chips and cookies and candy out and put them in a paper bag. “We'll give them to the church,” she said.

I told her I thought we should throw them away. “Would you give a carton of cigarettes to the church? It's the same thing.” She laughed and then crammed them in the garbage.

Monday, 12–18

Great news! Paul is coming to our school right after Christmas break. But it's bad news too, because Paul's parents lost their house. They couldn't make the mortgage payments, and now Paul and his parents have to move in with his uncle who lives in our school district. He said his parents are worse than ever and complain because they have to live in his uncle's basement, but they don't have any choice. Paul said the basement isn't even finished, except the floor is painted, and it's eerie sleeping there at night. His mother hung blankets up to
separate the space into “rooms”; their kitchen is an old refrigerator and a microwave. His uncle gets all ticked off if they go upstairs too much. He's single and has girlfriends over all the time. My mom said I could invite Paul over anytime. Paul sounded weird when I talked to him, not the usual “my parents are screw–ups” weird, but like he was out there, not really listening, but not wanting to hang up. Paul is smart and a good student like me. You'll like him, if he gets in your class.

Tuesday, 12–19

Mom says if I really want to lose weight, I have to exercise. She wants me to walk with her in the mornings but there is no way. Instead, I'm going to run with Dad. We have to get up at 5:00, because he has to leave for work by 6:30 to avoid getting caught in traffic. Dad is in better shape than I am but he's had his share of cinnamon buns too. I asked for a Total Gym for Christmas. Dad said they're expensive, so maybe it could be a family gift. My sister thinks that's a waste of money, and we should do a family trip instead. She said it would take a lot more than the Total Gym for me to look normal, and I'm such a loser I wouldn't use it anyway. My mom heard her, and they got into another fight. My sister was born skinny and doesn't know how it feels to be fat. She stuffs her face with nachos and dip as soon as she gets home from school. At least she did, until Mom threw out the dip and chips. She also eats pizza all the time. But she never gains weight—my Nana says my sister's so skinny she must have swallowed a tapeworm. Nana Josie is from the
old school and believes in wives' tales and superstitions. My mother told me that Nana used to cover all the mirrors in the house after a relative died. Nana also believes the devil takes another wife whenever it rains while the sun is still shining. Nana has always been fat, but now she is so big she can hardly walk. I love Nana, but I don't want to end up like her.

My mom joined Weight Watchers and said she's learning a lot about nutrition. She has to follow some sort of point system that she says is pretty easy to remember. There's a program for kids, but you have to get special permission from your doctor and go to meetings. I'd rather die than go to meetings, so I'm doing a modified version of my mom's plan. Mostly, I'm cutting out junk food and eating more fresh fruits and vegetables. Absolutely no soda, not even diet drinks, and desserts only on the weekend, and then only one portion. No donuts or fried foods at all. Mom insists, though, that I drink milk with all my meals. My stomach growls all the time now. Mom said that will go away once it starts shrinking.