"Hey, fat girl! You hungry?"
The football player threw a red bag to the floor. I looked down and saw the bag labeled 'Doritos'. I looked up and had eye-contact with the jock.
'Was this ever going to end?' I asked myself.
I walked away, hearing the football team, laughing hysterically, giving each other high-fives.
Tears filled my eyes. I thought to myself, 'don't start crying, you've done enough of that.'
I headed towards the school exit. The bell had rung several minutes ago and I had a feeling I'd have to walk home. God, does this suck.
As I reached the doorway, several jocks ran and pushed me away.
"Move outta the way, your fatness is in the way," one screamed as he passed.
My body slammed against the lockers. My arm hurt. I managed to not cry and keep walking.
I walked out of the doors and saw as the bus pulled away.
Oh, god, no! This meant walking 7 blocks home!
I started walking... And walking... And walking.
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
*20 minutes later*
A car pulled up near me.
Oh god, please don't have them kidnap me!
The white, shiny Kia was driving at the slowest rate next to me. The window rolled down.
"Hey, you need a drive home?"
I turned and faced the jock that thrown me the Doritos' bag. The jock that had poured milk on my hair. The jock that had taken a picture out of the elementary school year book and put it on display at the high school bulletin board. The jock who had the cheerleaders beat me up. The jock who-
"Hey, you getting in?" He interrupted my thoughts. I didn't even know his name and he had bullied me practically all my school years.
"Never," I said, making sure the hate was heard in my voice.
"What for? So you can laugh at me? So that you can try and fuck me? So that you can pull my hair? So that you can make n of my clothes and where I live? So that you can tell everyone, 'I gave fatty a ride'? No thanks."
I realized I had stopped walking and his car had stopped moving.
"Look, I know now is too late, but I'm sorry. Can you please get in and we will talk about it?"
I looked at him in the eye for the first time. His green eyes sparkled, and for as hard as I tried not to believe it, I saw shame in his eyes for what he had done to me.
"Not a chance." I started walking away as fast as I could. Behind me, I heard a car door slam and footsteps following me.
His hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me gently toward him.
"Just come with me and if after you have heard me, you don't ever want to see me again, I'll understand."
His green eyes sparkled with hope. His light pink lips were so kissable.
I gave in. What did I have to loose?
"Okay, fine." He let go if my wrist and I followed him back to the car. He grabbed the door handle and pulled and moved aside to let me in like a gentlemen. Then he ran to the driver's side and got in. He started the car again and drove off to a cafe far from the neighborhood. I have a feeling he did that so no one would see he was with me.
He parked his car at the end of the street.
"We are here."
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
We sat on an empty booth near the back. The cafe was almost empty, with 2 couples in front of the cafe and us here in the back.
The waiter came to our table. She was wearing a red skirt with a black v neck shirt. Her heels clicked on the white tile floor as she came to our table.
"Hello, welcome to La Paris Cafe. I will be your waiter for the evening, can I take your order?" She eye-raped the jock sitting in front of me. She twisted her fingers on her blonde, straight hair. Then, she made eye contact with me. Her eyes gave me a nasty look. You'd think she was this jerk's- I mean Jock's- girlfriend.
"Yes, I'll have a caramel frappe and a chocolate slice of cake, please."
He looked at me, waiting for me to order. I shook my head, "I'm not really that hungry."
The waiter walked away, but before she did, she glared at me, trying to intimidate me.
"Why didn't you order? The desserts here are great. Ill call the waiter again so she can take your order," he lifter his hand to call her again. I reached over and pulled his arms down.
"I'm not hungry. And I don't do sweets."
"Why not?"
"Just..."
I was not about to tell him how I starve myself until I can no longer. I'm not about to tell him I'm on a diet. He'd laugh, because to everyone I'm still fat, even if I have lost 60 pounds and now weigh 105 lb.
He started at me but let it pass. After a few minutes, the waiter came with his order. The chocolaty smell filled my nostrils. I was tempted to reach over and wipe my finger on the chocolate frosting.
"Are you sure you don't want some?" He asked, pinning his fork into the cake. He pulled it back up and moved his hand, making the price of cake on the fork point at me. He reached out, the cake only a few centimeters from my face.
"Come on, try it."
"No." I moved my face back, making me have a double-chin.
"Come on, it's good."
"I told you, I don't do sweets."
"Why not?"
My head started spinning. What's happening to me? I lifted my hand up to move the fork out of my face, but my arm seemed suddenly heavy. I looked at him. He was staring at me with a worried expression on his face.
"Hey, are you okay?" I stood up and so did he. He wrapped his arms around my waist. My knees got weak and I felt my heavy body topple over.
I head landed hard on the white tiles and bounced. Then everything went black.
