Post by lindsey on May 16, 2017 15:21:23 GMT -5
The mean girls from my new school linger outside Haven Diner. I'll have to walk past them to meet Birdie. I scan Harvard Square hoping to spot someone from my old school who can walk into the diner with me, hoping to spot Erica even though we haven’t talked since June.
Today there’s no one I recognize. So I count to ten and visualize the colors of the rainbow backwards. Instead of praying for a parking spot, like Birdie always does, I pray for a smart retort to their teasing. I’m so sick of being the outcast, but can a fat girl be anything else?
I feel the girls notice me before the tallest one says something. She calls out. "I met someone who knows you. She said you’re a dyke.”
Her friends giggle, but she doesn’t crack a smile. My face is burning. One week at my new school and I’m already dodging rumors. I need to quash this, now.
“That’s really cute that you believe everything you hear, Clarice. Or was it Charice? There’s so many dumb blondes, it’s hard to tell you apart.”
Before she can settle on a comeback, I pull open the diner’s heavy door and hurry in. I’m in my safe place now.
Haven smells like fried onions. The afternoon regulars hunch over orange vinyl stools, shouting complaints like usual. I spot Birdie at the counter, his backpack claiming my stool. I slide in beside him and feel my heart well up with joy.
Today there’s no one I recognize. So I count to ten and visualize the colors of the rainbow backwards. Instead of praying for a parking spot, like Birdie always does, I pray for a smart retort to their teasing. I’m so sick of being the outcast, but can a fat girl be anything else?
I feel the girls notice me before the tallest one says something. She calls out. "I met someone who knows you. She said you’re a dyke.”
Her friends giggle, but she doesn’t crack a smile. My face is burning. One week at my new school and I’m already dodging rumors. I need to quash this, now.
“That’s really cute that you believe everything you hear, Clarice. Or was it Charice? There’s so many dumb blondes, it’s hard to tell you apart.”
Before she can settle on a comeback, I pull open the diner’s heavy door and hurry in. I’m in my safe place now.
Haven smells like fried onions. The afternoon regulars hunch over orange vinyl stools, shouting complaints like usual. I spot Birdie at the counter, his backpack claiming my stool. I slide in beside him and feel my heart well up with joy.
