The Badlings

Chapter 15. The Hen Uncovers the Culprit

Where there are big bad characters, there are always little bad characters helping big bad characters do mischief. Sometimes authors themselves don't know what to expect and get so frightened by their characters' behavior that they hide until the trouble is over.

It was precisely this trouble that brewed over the children's heads while they were happily snoozing. Rusty snored with amazing regularity. Peacock lay still, an arm over his face. Bells' eyelids twitched—she was watching a dream. Only Grand didn't sleep well. He kept dozing off and snapping awake.

I miss my soft bed, he thought. It's so comfortable. He pulled up his legs and accidentally nudged Bells.

"Whuh?" she said, blinking.

"Sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"Grand? Is something wrong?"

He sighed. "Nothing. Just can't sleep."

"Why not?" She sat up, stretching.

He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"What is it?" she insisted.

He shrugged.

"It's probably because you're uncomfortable. The only reason I was able to fall asleep is because of you."

"Me?" He looked puzzled.

"You're so warm that you warmed the floor around you, so thank you for that." She smiled.

"Oh. You're welcome," he said appreciatively, and then added, "At least some use out of a fat kid."

Bells sucked in air. "Please don't say that."

"Why not?" He spread his arms with passion. "It's the truth. I am fat. Everybody thinks that."

Bells began to object.

"Yes, you do," said Grand stubbornly. "Don't deny it. I was fat my whole life. My dad died from being fat and I will die from being fat, so I might as well get used to the idea." His arms hung limp and he sagged.

"You're not fat," said Bells in the tone she used to contradict her mother.

"Sure I am," he said, "see this?"

He inspected his bulging stomach, his plump fists, his thick calves and big feet. "I hate my body," he concluded. "I wish I could stop it somehow, but I can't. When I feel bad, I have to eat a doughnut, or something sweet, it's the only thing that helps me feel better." He raised his eyes at her. "You honestly don't think I'm fat? You're not just saying it?"

Bells took a deep breath. "You are a bit overweight," she said tenderly. "That doesn't mean you're fat fat, you know? There are fatter people out there. It just means that you weigh more than a healthy eleven-year-old should, according to some stupid standards devised by some stupid doctors. What do they know? In my personal opinion, it's a load of nonsense. It's how you feel that's important. If you feel healthy, then you're healthy. And I can't imagine you any other way, I like you the way you are. You're like a...like a...cuddly bear cub." She suddenly threw her arms around him, surprising herself.

Grand's already red face turned bright magenta, and he thought it would melt off any second. "My mom says I'm fat," he mumbled in her ear. "She says if I won't stop eating sweets, I'll die like my dad."

"What an awful thing to say. How can she know?" said Bells fervently. "Moms sometimes say things they regret later. And sometimes they make us do things they think are good for us instead of just letting us be." She gathered her hair into a ponytail with shaking hands, snapped on the band, then pulled it off and started all over again. "It always snags," she complained. "And there is no mirror."