VIC'S VIEWPOINTS (Private)

Victim#8: eat

Victor stood in the shower, eyes closed as the hot water ran over his aching body. The dance studio had been packed to the brim with giggling preteens running around like banshees. And then the teenagers! One gaggle of girls, most likely in their first pair of dance heels, wore the skimpiest of costumes, and another group dressed as if it were gym glass. Some came ready to learn, but others, to preen and flirt.

And the divas were in abundance.

Several boys arrived to brush up on their ballroom technique, but others seemed offended that hip hop wasn't offered.

Of course, the studio owner, Marta, would choose today to be sick, leaving Adam Sinclair, the manager, in charge. The irascible instructor had taken one look at the hormones attending the seminar and put Victor, a teen himself, in charge of the other teachers and the seminar.

He could only groan, put on the headset and make the best of a horrid situation.

By the end of the seminar, four hours later, Victor had a massive headache.

"I love your accent. You dance so well," said one father, shaking Victor's hand with too much enthusiasm. "So, what language do they speak in your country?"

Victor sighed. "I'm British. We speak English."

"We loved the seminar," gushed a mother, shoving her teen toward Victor, who stuck to him like flypaper. "My daughter loves to hear you speak. One day we plan to visit the land down under."

"That's Australia. I'm British, ma'am," he replied, peeling the daughter off.

After his shower, Victor threw on an old pair of sweats, wrapped the towel around his neck, and opened the door. To his surprise, Rosetta, Jason, and a girl he didn't know stood in the hall facing the bathroom door. He raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, never had a welcoming committee after taking a shower before."

Jason pointed to Victor but spoke to the girl. "See? My brother eats like a vacuum cleaner and look at him. Doesn't he look healthy?"

Victor goggled at him.

But the girl nodded, gazing at the older teen with starry eyes. "He's beau... I mean nice."

Victor sighed. He only wanted to lounge in bed and reply to his latest victim on Wattpad. The last submission seemed quite a delicate subject and stayed on his mind. "So, what's going on?"

"Vic," Rosetta tugged on her brother's arm. "Marissa's mother says she's gonna get fat and ugly, and people won't like her and has her on a stupid diet. So, she eats hardly anything. Isn't that unhealthy?"

Jason nodded. "Marissa is my study partner for math. It's been going on for a while, and now she can't even concentrate."

The anger boiled in his gut. Marissa looked like a typical preteen, perhaps a tad underweight, but hard to tell as the clothing she wore seemed oversized. Putting a child that age on a diet could not be a good thing. Worse, it could ruin her relationship with food, leading to an eating disorder. He tilted his head toward the room he shared with Jason as an idea came to mind. His latest viewpoint on Wattpad might come in handy. He only hoped she hadn't taken to her mother's message.

"You lot come with me. Jason, log up to the next victim, would you, mate?"

Inside the room, he told the younger set to have a seat at the desk while he threw on a shirt. Victor took the remaining seat. "Marissa, I have a site on Wattpad called Vic's Viewpoints. It's tacky but a bit of fun. I've already read the story, but would you like to join in the recording? You can be my special guest if you'd like, love."