The Fat Boy Chronicles (8 page)

People act like it's my fault that I'm fat, and maybe it is, but I don't eat any more than most teenagers. I just have a slower metabolism than a lot of kids my age, which means I have to work at it more. But no one told me this when I started putting on the weight. I mean, I didn't get like this on purpose. I was only a kid when this weight thing all started—I didn't know my eating habits made me this way until it was too late.

I don't get Mr. Gardner. Like, why didn't he show up in the lunchroom and hang around like he said he would? It's like he really didn't think it was that big of a deal. Like jocks picking on fat kids is normal. I bet he'd really freak if I started calling kids “dummies” because they don't get good grades like I do. I'd probably get ISS if I did that.

I mean, I have an uncle who died because he smoked when he was in the army and got cancer. What if when my parents and I went to visit him in the hospital, we didn't tell him we loved him. What if we yelled at him for smoking? It was his fault after all? Or, what if I laughed at the kids who crashed in that wreck last month? They had been drinking, so, it was their fault that they almost died. No one would dare say anything mean to them, because they almost experienced a tragedy. But no one understands how much of a tragedy it is for a kid to be overweight, especially a kid everyone makes fun of.

Aren't my feelings important? Sometimes I sit in class and wonder if anyone would notice if I were gone. I guess Allen would, and Spencer. Maybe Nate, in a bad way. That probably isn't what a kid my age should be thinking about, but I can't help it. Thinking that way makes me depressed and then I eat more, which causes me to gain more weight, which causes more depression, and on and on. It really sucks.

Last week we watched
A Tale of Two Cities
in history class. The first line of the movie was “It was the best of times and it was the worst of times.” At least I have half of that covered.

I don't mean to sound like I have the worst life, because I'm luckier than some kids. At least when I survive the bus ride home, I can be with my parents, my dog, and my video games. And church is great. People there accept me, all of me. And, I know that God sees inside my heart and knows how I treat others. Jesus was shunned by many people and he forgave them. I need to do that too. Last week at church, our pastor said that there are two ways to deal with life. We can see it as a problem or as a challenge. I'm not sure that there is much of a difference between a problem and a challenge, but I get the feeling that accepting life as a challenge is the better of the two. I'm not exactly sure why, because I like working out problems, like in math. But, I guess problems in life are more about self–esteem and relationships and stuff like that, which is harder, because there are lots of right answers. Talk about a multiple–choice test. Besides, problems never go away until you answer them.

Monday, 11–13

This weekend my family went to the mall. All day on Saturday, which was okay, but after a while, it started to get boring. My mom
and sister take so long to buy anything, especially clothes. In this one teen store, I thought my sister would try on everything. The lady was getting sick of her, and me and Dad couldn't take it any more either. We left and told them we'd meet them at the Discovery Channel store in an hour. When we went back to find them, they were still in that same store! Then we went to Macy's and I decided to look around the guys' department for a cool sweatshirt. My mom went with my sister to Juniors and my dad wanted to check out the watches. I didn't find anything I liked, so I went to Juniors to look for my sister, and noticed these two cute girls walking down the aisle. I smiled at them, and they started giggling. One of them said, “If I thought he was hot, I'd be gay.”

I tried not to let their words bother me, but they did. By the time I found the rest of my family, I was in a really bad mood. Mom suggested we go to the food court and have a snack, and that cheered me up some. They have a Chinese buffet place there that is so good. I got a box of Mongolian beef and two egg rolls. Then we got ice cream at the little corner store. It's the one where they're always standing there giving out samples. (Sometimes I walk by and get a spoonful, and then come back later, and it's a different guy, so I get another sample.) If you're ever in the mall, get the banana ice cream. It's great.

We went to the dollar movies to see
Spiderman 2
. It was pretty good but I liked the first one better. That's usually how it works with sequels. The monster guy was scary though. When he came crashing into the restaurant and threw the car through the window, that was pretty cool. I'd like to do special effects for the movies.
That way, you get to have things end up the way you want.

On Sunday, we went to church and then I came home and did homework. Paul called to see if I could come over, but Mom put the brakes on that. This time Dad didn't take my side. So I hung out on the sofa and watched some TV. Dad played a few video games with me, and we ordered pizza and watched some of the Bengals game. Those guys are really big and no one bothers them. I would love to be strong like them; it would help me so much with things. I did talk to Paul, and he wanted me to sneak out of the house.

“That's just about impossible, you should know that. Besides, I'm under heavy duty watch. Mom still suspects I had something to do with the MySpace picture.”

“Is Jessica still freaking out?” Paul asked.

“Things have kinda cooled with her. I think it's made her more popular. Mary Magdalene turned saint. And she's really eating it up too.”

“Mary who?”

“Haven't you heard of
The Da Vinci Code
?”

“Isn't that what they used to save the
Titanic
?”

“I don't think the
Titanic
was saved. Never mind.”

“Jimmy?”

“Huh?”

“Do you ever wonder what Kimberly felt while she was being murdered? Do you think she thought she would get away, or do you think she knew she was going to die?”

I thought about it for a second. “I don't know, man. She probably thought she would get away. At least hoped she would.”

“I can't stop thinking about her. And the boyfriend. I know he's innocent.”

“You need to chill, man. Let the police worry about it.”

“The police don't know anything. They nailed the wrong guy.”

“There's nothing you can do. We already got burned once. Next time we might get caught.”

“So are you telling me you're out?”

“I think we need to take a break, is all.”

“Just wait, Jimmy. When I catch the right guy, you're going to be sorry you weren't there with me.”

“I'll help when I can.”

“I knew you wanted in.”

Geez.

Tuesday, 11–14

Yesterday I had so much homework I barely had time to eat supper. It was insane how much I had. A ton of it in every class not to mention the paper you assigned us to write. It took me four hours to finish! I hope you're happy that it caused me to have no life. At least I got it done and today is not so bad.

I usually like writing persuasive essays, except for the research part. There was tons of stuff on the Internet about global warming to support my side, so that was cool. Now that I'm done, I don't know how anyone could doubt that we're killing the ozone layer. I mean, I like technology and computers and stuff as much as the next guy,
but I'd rather live like they did in the old days, like in the fifties and sixties, when there weren't so many mega cars and chemical waste eating up the environment. I worry about what the earth's going to be like when I'm as old as my parents. I feel sorry for people from primitive countries who have to pay for industrial countries' mistakes. Doesn't seem fair.

Which brings up another point. Why is it that teachers seem to pile on the homework all at the same time? Shouldn't there be some sort of a system, where teachers can check and see what projects other teachers are assigning during a certain time? Like if a research paper is due in English on one weekend, then the science teacher could wait until the next weekend to assign his big project. Then maybe kids wouldn't resent their teachers so much.

Hopefully, that won't happen again for a while—where I get so much in each class on the same night. Not that I mind doing homework but when it's that much, I despise every minute of it. I ate two big bags of Doritos tonight while I did my homework, so now my stomach hurts. I hate myself for eating so much. This isn't an excuse, but I couldn't stop myself. Whenever I stress out, all I want to do is eat. Seems like I'm stressed out all the time. Would serve my teachers right if I puked all over my homework.

Wednesday, 11–15

Please Don't Read This Page

After school today I rode my bike over to Paul's. His mother was already passed out on the couch when I got there. She has a major drinking problem. Paul showed me all the empty gin bottles in the garage. “She's like this most days. My dad tried to get her to go to AA, but that just made her worse.”

I couldn't imagine her much worse than she was. Her lipstick was all smeared and her hair was dry and ratty. I don't know where Paul's dad was. Maybe out looking for a job. Or a new wife.

“Why don't you take a picture,” Paul said. “Haven't you ever seen a drunk before? C'mon, we've got things to do.”

We rode our bikes for almost an hour before Paul stopped in front of a gray house with a shed out back. “This is it,” Paul said.

“Are you sure it's the right one? The grass is all cut and everything.” It seemed too nice to belong to a creepy predator.

“You knock on the door and talk to him. See what you can find out.”

“Why me? You're the one who found him.”

“Because, well, because you might bring back memories of Kimberly, because you're, you know, kinda heavy.”

“That's just great. I'll remind him of Kimberly, the girl he— KILLED.”

“You don't have to yell in my ear. Don't worry, I'll be watching. If he drags you in, I'll call the police. Give me your cell phone, just in case.”

“I thought we were going to act like we're selling things for band. We don't have anything to sell.”

“We can do that next time. Just talk to the guy.”

“Next time? There might not be a next time. Talk about what?”

“Ask him for a cigarette.”

“Like he's going to give me a cigarette.”

“He will if he thinks you're cute. Hurry up, Jimmy, we don't have that much time.”

I was too angry to be scared, so I stormed down the driveway and walked right up to the front door and pushed the doorbell. I pushed and pushed, but no one answered. A striped cat watched me from the front window, acting like she was bored. But no other sign of life. I hustled back up the driveway.

“Guess he's at work,” I said, getting on my bike.

“Or out killing someone,” Paul added.

By the time we got back to Paul's house, it was starting to get dark, and there were lights on in the house. I could see his mom walking around, so I guess she recovered. “I gotta go,” I said.

“Maybe we can catch him home on a Saturday,” Paul said hopefully.

“Oh, I really look forward to that. And what's this “we” stuff? I'm the one getting killed, not you.”

“Stop whining, Jimmy.”

Thursday, 11–16

I asked Spencer if he wanted to come over to my house and play Wii this weekend, but he couldn't because of soccer practice. And his relatives are in town, since next week's Thanksgiving and everything. But he said he would once soccer was over. He has practice every day after school, especially now that they are in the finals, so we talk mostly on the way to school. He started taking the bus because his mother can't drive him any more now that she has a new job. We joke around some, and since he has lots of girlfriends, I told him about the girl in my science and math classes I really like. He knows her really well, and told me not to bother with her because she's uncool. She seems nice to me, and she's one of the prettiest girls in our school. She has long blond hair and a hot body. I feel funny writing that to my English teacher, but that's what Allen says about the really cute girls. Even my sister. He says she has a great rack and that makes me want to puke. He also says my sister's a fox and can't believe we're related. He says he wants to spend the night at my house just so he can talk to her. He has a plan about how I'll pretend to have to go somewhere for an hour so he can be alone with her. Like she would even talk to him. She's a junior and hates freshmen.

You asked me to write more about my sister, so here goes. She's weird! She spends way too much time worrying about what to wear. She's not into cool things like video games. My mom tried to get her to play an instrument, but she wouldn't have any part of it. She's kind of rebellious and really sensitive. She hates it whenever I play my saxophone. (I practice thirty minutes a day.) When I practice, she
yells, “Shut up, you freak! You sound like a mule in heat!” My mom gets mad at her, and then they fight. I don't know why she's so mad at my parents all the time. They want her to get good grades and stop being selfish. Which she is, big time, I mean huge! She doesn't go out of her way for anybody. My dad calls her a princess, but I think she is a spoiled brat. I call her Princess Loser. She thinks she is better than me because she's skinny. But I get straight A's, and I'm in the jazz band.

Friday, 11–17

PE is still loads of fun. We walk around the track for an hour and then go shower. Wow.

Saturday's the big game between Hanover and Taylor. I might go. Mom and Dad keep asking if I'm going. I want to but who knows. Since we've won a few games, all the guys are pretty cool in PE now.