The Fat Boy Chronicles (6 page)

Mom and Dad wanted to leave our old neighborhood, Adams Farms, because it had turned upside down. My parents said that it was once a respected place to live. I thought if that was true then I'm Elvis Presley, because it's not even close to that now. There are gangs all around the neighborhood and my mom doesn't like the school district very much. She worked with the school so she knew what went on there. She compared Hanover's test scores with Adams's test scores. Adams wasn't even in the chase!

One fateful night my mom and dad made a decision that would change my life forever. We were moving. I thought, “Hey, this might be kind of cool.” However, at that time I had no clue how much of an impact it would have on my life. It hadn't sunk in yet that in two months I would be a thirty–minute drive from all that I've ever known. From the only house I've ever lived in. I was in major denial.

So, we started looking at houses and finally found one we liked. We thought it would be the perfect home. Apparently, God had different plans for us and someone outbid us. Luckily, we found another house near our first choice. When I heard that we actually bought a house in Hanover, I was bouncing off the walls like a maniac, I was so happy. However, many happy things come to an end.

The next day when I started to gather things from my room to put in our new house, it sunk in. I felt terrible and wished we were not leaving. I thought about my friends, my teachers and all the memories. “We're going to move,” I whispered to myself. “We're going to move.”

The rest of the day I kept to myself while my family tried to cheer me up. It was a miserable day as all of my memories came back to me. Good, bad, funny and sad memories came back to me that day, no matter how little or insignificant they were. I just couldn't get over the fact that we were moving. “Will I ever see my friends again?” I thought. I didn't have many friends, but at least I had some. I wondered if I would find even one friend at my new school.

I woke up to reality and tried to deal with it as best I could. I helped move stuff into the new house, and helped my sister with her belongings. Within a week we were all moved in. I waved a final farewell to my friends at Adams Farms, and then I was out of there.

So now I have been here for two months. I still talk on the phone to my old friends, but not very often. My mom and dad are happy with my school and our neighborhood. Even though I'm trying to fit in, I still wish that we had never moved.

The End.

Friday, 10–20

Please Don't Read This Page

Today I was in the gym when it started again with the guys in the locker room. Of course, there's never anyone around, but I don't want teachers to have to protect me. I'd like to fight back but I know I'd get pounded on, big time. “Melon Boy” and “Man–Boobs,” they yell at me. I hate it and it makes my neck turn red. The worst is Robb. He apparently comes to school for the purpose of playing football and making my life miserable. Most of the time he starts it and then the others join in. Today, he said, “Hey, Jimmy, are you gellin', because I see your melons!” He has figured out that talking about my chest really bugs me. But he doesn't care. As long as he's getting laughs, he just keeps on going. He's like the Energizer Jerk. And then I find out Nate's been switched to my PE class. He laughs harder than anyone when Robb starts in on me. I can take the teasing about me being too big, but when the jokes about my chest start up, I just crumble inside. The more they say those things, the more I believe that what they say is true. That I don't care. That I am fat and lazy.

It's interesting how the sermon this past Sunday seemed to be speaking to me. It made me wonder if my parents had said something to the preacher. He opened his Bible and talked about Peter 3:3–4. It's the part about inner beauty and how it doesn't matter what you're like on the outside. What counts is on the inside.

I have a good heart and try to treat people right, but it seems everybody worries more about how you look. When we're in line at the grocery store, every magazine has all these pictures of beautiful
women and muscle men and movie stars. Then I look down at myself or I catch someone looking at me and I cringe. But it helps to hear my preacher talk about these things. Otherwise, I would get really depressed. I just wish some of the kids in gym class could hear what he says.

Sunday, 10–22

Saturday, I had to rake and rake and rake leaves. Man, was it a lot. I never knew there were that many leaves on a tree. Me and Dad started at 9 in the morning and didn't finish until noon. At first it was cold and I could see my breath but then I got hot from working. Mom brought us some hot chocolate. By the time we finished there was a pile of leaves as big as a car. Tomorrow, we'll burn them in the back corner. I did fall in the pile once, just like when I was little. My lazy sister didn't help at all. She sat on the sofa and talked on the phone. I think she should major in communications when she goes to college.

Mom made a pot of chili for lunch. She makes it with mushrooms, peppers and big hamburger chunks. I ate three bowls while watching the UC game. I have some homework to do, which includes re–writing an essay for your class (Remember, the one on pollution you marked up with your “screamin' demon” red pen?), reading a chapter in history and then some math homework. Actually, I need to study for a math test. Who gives tests on Monday? Someone who doesn't care about students, that's who. I hope you're not planning on doing that anytime soon. Like ever. If you do, then I take it back. I know you care about us.

Maybe this week, I'll go to the football game. It's homecoming and I want to see if the girl I voted for wins. My sister's friend Asha is on the court but she is such a snob, she doesn't deserve to win. She came over today and when I walked in the TV room, she said, “Freshmen make me sick.” I said she could always leave. My sister asked if I had something to do that didn't involve being at home. I went to my room and played video games. When my sister is mean or lets her friends be mean, I really enjoy hunting for aliens. If there was some way to put Jessica's face on the monster, I would.

I'll try and talk Allen into going to the game so I can sit with someone. If Asha doesn't win, I can't wait for her to come back over to our house.

Tuesday, 10–24

I heard Mom talking on the phone with Mrs. Johnson from where we used to live. I might get to go back there for Halloween and go trick–or–treating with my old friends. That would be too cool. If I can't, I probably won't go at all—it's no fun to walk around if you don't know anyone. Mom would insist on following me and I would be so embarrassed. This year, I want to be the dad from
The Incredibles
. Mom is good about making my outfits if I give her enough time. One year, she waited until the last couple of days before trying to make my Spiderman outfit. It came out a little small and I wore it anyway. I was standing in front of this one house and I bent over to get a
Reese's and my pants ripped. I couldn't hear because of my mask, so for the rest of the night, every time I walked away from someone's door, they would start laughing. It wasn't until Mom ran into our old next door neighbor at the grocery store that I even found out.

Wednesday, 10–25

Tonight was youth group night at church. We don't always go to church on Wednesday but I'm glad we did this time. With all the video games we have at church, I have a good time playing the other kids. You would think church would be boring but I always enjoy it a lot. We even have our own band and it's awesome. Last night we played some really good tunes. I was bummed Paul didn't show up, because we really smoke when we're playing the sax together. I don't get it. He lives for youth group—at least that's what he told me. I think it's this whole murder thing. That's all he thinks about. I'm beginning to think he's afraid that the murderer will come after him, since it happened so near his house.

It might sound like all I do at church is play games and practice with our band, but we have classes and the preacher talks to us. It's a bit more relaxed on Wednesday than on Sunday. One game that I love is Foosball and we have one at church. I can twirl the men really hard. A few weeks ago, I was playing when I spun the thing so fast it kicked the ball across the room and under the ping–pong table. Sable Moore—the same one that's in our English class—went to get it and crawled halfway under there. Right when she reached for the ball
she saw a bug or something that moved and she screamed and raised up. Her head bonked into the table and that made her squeal again. Everyone came running. Then we got yelled at for being too loud. It was way too much fun.

Going to church on Wednesday really helps me get revived for the rest of the week. I can't wait till next week. Maybe Paul will be there. I have to go do some other homework now, but I hope you're reading our journals. I didn't think I would like doing this but it's okay for something I have to do. I have to admit that even though you aren't supposed to be reading the ones we tell you not to, I like writing them. It makes me feel like I have a good friend that listens. Even if it's just me.

Saturday, 10–28

I went to the game last night, mostly because I wanted to see who won Homecoming Queen. Allen went with me and his dad took us. Before the game, the cheerleaders rode the floats around the track and threw candy and little plastic footballs into the crowd. I almost caught one, but Allen knocked my arm and some kid behind me got it.

The theme for this year was “Reach for the Stars,” but it should have been “Let's Boo and Terrorize the Freshmen Float.” Ours was first in line and I admit that it was pretty cheesy. We had a cardboard cutout of a space shuttle and some kid dressed up like an astronaut, but the problem was that he couldn't see out of his helmet, and he
was waving toward the football field instead of the crowd. The man driving the float wasn't paying attention to the cars in front of him, and he had to stop real quick. He hit the brakes and all the people on the float went flying forward. Everyone in the stands laughed. Then the astronaut kid couldn't get up, and when he did, he head-butted a cheerleader's rear end and knocked her down again. That was really funny. When our float got in front of the senior section, the seniors started throwing the candy back at our float. The cheerleaders got behind the space shuttle, but the astronaut got hit with a little football right on top of his head. When that happened, all the seniors went crazy cheering.

It was exciting when our team finally ran through the big banner onto the field. Parkwood is either really bad or we're better than I thought, 'cause we were way ahead by halftime. Robb Thuman started as quarterback, and he played awesome during the first half. Maybe it's okay that he picks on me.

Just before halftime, me and Allen went to get some popcorn and a hot dog. Nate and his dad were in line behind us, but neither of them said anything to us. When I walked by, Nate stared at my hot dog and puffed out his cheeks. Allen and I were having such a good time, we just ignored him. We got back to our seats just when they were announcing who won the float contest. The freshmen came in last, big surprise, but I think we were the most entertaining. The junior float won, which made the seniors mad, but I bet they lost because they terrorized our cheerleaders and astronaut.

I did see my sister sitting down front with all the cool kids. She was pretty sure Asha was going to win, and started chanting Asha's
name along with the rest of her crowd. When they announced Halle Murphy as the winner, Asha was the last one in the court to congratulate her. Figures. She's such a stuck–up Paris Hilton wannabe. I know I shouldn't be this way, but next time Asha is over to our house and says something mean, I will ask her how the homecoming vote went. She says mean things to me all the time, but I'll probably chicken out. I know how it feels to have your feelings hurt.

You know what, Mrs. Pope, it's funny how the “accepted” kids expect me to put up with their comments, but they can't take it when someone says something smart–ass to them. Just for a day, I would like Asha or Nate to be me. Then they'd know what it feels like. Fat chance of that happening.

At the end of the game, Allen texted his dad to come pick us up. While we were going to the steps out of the stadium, the football team was walking off the field so everyone stopped to cheer for them. They went through the crowd on their way to the locker room. Most of them were real dirty and sweaty, but some were clean and I knew they didn't get to play. One of the guys who bothers me in PE was a clean one. He saw me standing there cheering for the team. He kind of nodded at me and then he stuck out his hand for me to high–five. I hesitated at first, thinking he might pull his hand away. He didn't.

I think I will go to another game this year. Maybe my dad will go too.

Sunday, 10–29

Paul spent the night again Saturday. He's all bummed because the boyfriend confessed to the murder. The kid said when they were having sex, he pressed too hard on Kimberly's throat. She started yelling at him about it, but he kept on doing it, and then he ran off and left her in the woods. He didn't think he killed her though. Paul still doesn't believe the boyfriend did it—the cops haven't released his name, even though they could because he's eighteen. Whether the kid did it or not it doesn't matter; he's already incriminated himself, and he's busted on account of statutory rape. Paul spent all night on the Internet and figured out the street Kimberly lived on and found a sexual predator who lived a few streets over from her house. The guy had been arrested on counts of child pornography, which I guess means purchasing videos and stuff online. Really sick stuff. Paul wants to go over to his house and check out his brand of cigarettes. I asked Paul how he knows this guy smokes, and Paul said he can just tell by how bad his skin looks. I don't know how he can tell that from an Internet picture. Most of the sexual predators we've seen have really bad faces, but that doesn't mean they all smoke. Paul said if you're a predator, you smoke to relieve the nervousness of committing that kind of crime.