SPASE

BEFORE: CHAPTER FOUR

Ninety minutes later, the bell rings for lunch and Maddie lets out a sigh of relief. Maddie shuffles through their scuffed-up, black book bag and finds a honey oat granola bar they tossed in their backpack two weeks ago. They thought they'd be hungry walking to school, but often, they get lost in their own head instead.

Honestly, they are just running late most of the time. Maddie recalls speed-walking through Mr. Larson's cornfield just this morning, treading lightly in between the high corn stalks trying not to disturb them. At this point in the season, the corn could be considered as "cow corn," it's ready to be harvested, but he seems to be letting the ears dry a little longer than normal. If he noticed the corn is disturbed, he would say something to their dad. The last thing that they wanted is to have to talk to him.

Maddie pulls out the bar. It's totally squashed like the mashed potatoes Momma used to make: lumpy, but good enough to eat. With the thought, they don't seem desperate enough to eat it and places it back in the bottom of their backpack for later.

People look at them and already think they overeat at 310 pounds. With Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and hypothyroidism, they might as well not even have a metabolism. Last year, Maddie attempted to join track, thinking all of the running would help them lose weight. Instead of losing pounds, they gained muscle and laughs from people when they came in close to last.

"No one wants to see that jiggle! Go home." Greg's laughter blares like a siren through Maddie's brain. The memory makes them walk faster as if they're going to tackle down the door.

As they walk into the room, Ms. P greets them with a squeal and a hug, making Maddie goes stiff and places their hands to their side. They never know how to act when it comes to the matter of getting attention.

"EEEEE! Maddie, pla-leeeeessse tell me that you finished your portfolio for RISD? You know they only have a certain amount of art scholarships available and the deadline for early acceptance is this Friday!" Ms. P says, forcefully shaking them by their shoulders.

The Rhode Island School of Design is Maddie's ticket out of town. There are only so many cornfields and cows one person can look at. For a town that's only 1.92 square miles wide, there isn't much to see; one grocery store, one gas station, one post office, one bar... one of everything. The outskirts are miles of open fields, inhabited by either corn, soybeans, cows, or pigs. Everyone's the same. #growinguprural was the number one hashtag used by students. Out here, how else could anyone grow up?

They want to be free and do what they love: art. It's just a bonus that one of the best schools in the country for animation is over a thousand miles away. Maddie feels the tension in their neck release with the thought of going so far and staying that far for good.

"Yeah, I know. I'm almost done I guess, but..." Maddie hesitates, putting their fingers through their short, pixie cut, making their bangs fall farther into their face. They were hoping that when they cut it and dyed it black that it would make them further invisible. It didn't work.

Ms. P interrupts Maddie before they could even get any form of an excuse out, firmly gripping her shoulders and making direct eye contact with them.

"Mad, the Rhode Island School of Design has been your dream since freshman year. You can do this. Your work is phenomenal. You were born for their animation program, and I told you I would write as many recommendations as you need, but you have to make the effort too," Mrs. P proclaims, trying to give Maddie the confidence to show up for themselves, " Just do it, kid."

She looks at Maddie as if they are going to give her some excuse. Ms. P waits for an answer with both her arms crossing in front of her and tapping her left foot. Ms. P always has to be moving. That's what makes Ms. P a creative; she's always coming up with new ideas, starting another project before the first is ever finished.