Project Fat Suit

Four: He Has a Name?

Chapter Four: He Has a Name?

“This is not going to work,” Kurt complained as he duct-taped another pillow onto my backside.

“What other choice do we have Kurt? I can’t exactly go to school looking like me me without it being suspicious.” Thanks to Cashier Guy I had lost my only fat suit and I had to order another one, which was coming in three to five business days. So, my only option was to go to school with pillows taped to my body.

“You look way too,” he trailed off to find a decent word, “lumpy.”

“It’ll be fine.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was trying to reassure him or me.

Kurt still looked unconvinced, but he let the subject go. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

The car ride consisted of me fixing my assortment of pillows and Kurt giving me a look of disbelief about every ten seconds.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kurt asked me again as we walked into the school. Well, he walked while I shuffled awkwardly next to him.

“Yes, I’m very sure. I just have to worry about is falling asleep.”

“What? Why?” Kurt asked me, confused.

“. . . Because I have so many pillows on it feels like I’m on a bed and people tend to feely sleepy on beds,” I explained.

“That wasn’t funny,” Kurt told me bluntly.

“Well, no one asked for your opinion,” I mumbled in embarrassment and walked away from him, slightly stomping along the way.

I stopped at my locker and fumingly pounded on it when it didn’t open. As my locker opened, I could feel something drop from my side.

“Crap,” I said to myself as I picked up the small pillow that I had taped to my side, but as I bent over the tennis balls I had taped to my other side fell and scattered all over the hall.

I stared after them with wide eyes, hoping no one had notice or will notice.

As I picked up the last tennis ball, I looked up to find my locker neighbor staring at me, mouth agape with her chewed up gum showing.  

  “What?” I asked harshly. “I stuff my bra. You think beauties like these come naturally?” I gestured to my chest, which tennis balls were indeed strapped to.

She still stood there with her mouth hanging open as I rushed to the nearest bathroom.

I was in the middle of taking off my oversized sweatshirt when I heard the door open and a very male voice call out, “Serena?”

Thinking it was Kurt coming to my aid, I came out of the stall and nearly flinched a yard backwards when I realized it was Asshole peeking his head into the women’s bathroom.

“What do you want, Asshole?” I asked, suddenly feeling the need to cover up even though I was wearing a tank top and shorts covered by miscellaneous objects.

“I see your putting that name to use,” he commented as he came completely into the bathroom. “I saw your trail of tennis balls and thought you could use this,” he explained as he held up a very welcome and familiar object.

“My fat suit!” I exclaimed happily and snatched my fat suit out of his hands. “Did anyone see you holding this?”

“No, the halls were empty.”

“Good. Now get out.”

“Yeah, I know. By the way, I like that picture of you in the corner. It depicts you well,” he stated while exiting the bathroom.