The Fat Girls Club

Chapter 6

I walk into our own blue suburban home, my feet dragging against the wooden floor. My dad is laying on the couch in a grey suit that is slightly too big on him, with him having lost muscle mass after leaving the fire academy. He must have had interviews today. I grab one of the throws and drape it over his sleeping body, making sure not to wake him up.

The entire house is spotless, with everything put away where it belongs, not a single cookbook or utensil out of place in the kitchen. My dad only cleans this much when he’s stressed. I reach up and grab a glass for fill with water from the fridge. With my mother being a restaurant owner, our kitchen is pretty advanced compared to the rest of the house. It seems as though every month my mom is getting the latest appliances under the pretense of them being for work. I’ve heard them fighting about it late at night when the rest of the world is asleep.

“Hey, honey when did you get in?” My dad yawns, kissing me on the head and going to make coffee using the expresso machine. He struggles with the controls and starts jamming random buttons, huffing in frustration.

“Let me help you,” I laugh, placing my glass on the counter and with the press of a few buttons, the machine starts whirring and sputtering coffee into his empty mug.

“Thanks,” he smiles in relief, “what would I do without you?”

“Have no coffee,” I joke, and his eyes dramatically widen at that. “So, Dad, can I ask you something?” I cease my opportunity before I chicken out, unsure of how this conversation is going to go.

“Anything, my love.” He takes a sip of his coffee, wincing at the strong taste but then promptly going for another sip.

“You can’t tell mom.” That gets his attention, he grabs a chair and motions for me to sit next to him behind the counter.

“Proceed,” he says sipping his coffee. He must know that it is important because there are very few things that my dad will keep from my mother. She tends to overreact in situations where keeping a level head would be more beneficial, so we have only a few things we agree to keep from here, like that one time he caught me reading some rather steamy Harry Styles fanfiction. Or the time I found out that he had been secretly donating Mom’s old appliances. She would completely lose it in both instances.

“Well, I was just wondering, hypothetically right?” He nods slowly, “What you would do if hypothetically knew someone that was being hypothetically hurt?” I shrugged, trying my best to speak with ease to not make the question as heavy as it really is.

“Hurt how, Cora?” His thick brows furrow in contemplation.

“Just hurt by someone close to them,” I mumble my words I quick succession.

“Cora,” he says my name in warning, knowing full well that I am withholding crucial information.

“Dad,” I mock his tone, trying to lighten the mood but it doesn’t work, his stare only intensifies.

“Cora, I will call you mother home right now if you don’t tell me what’s going on. Is someone hurting you?” His usually playful features turn hard and that’s when I know that strict dad-mode has been switched on and friendly dad is nowhere to be found.

“Fine, fine,” I plead, not willing to test his bluff, “there might be a girl at school whose boyfriend seems like he is a bit rough with her.”

“A bit rough?” He stresses, “What exactly does a bit rough mean, Cora?”

“I don’t know for sure Dad,” I sigh, rubbing my face with my hands, “I just saw him holding her and it looked like he was hurting her and she said that he gets like that sometimes which makes me think that it wasn’t the first time.”

“I’m calling Katherine.” he pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts calling my principal, Heather and Asher’s mother, “Give me his name, the board can schedule a meeting with his parents. I am certain the little punk will be expelled so-” I grab the phone out of his hand and press end before she can pick up.

“Cora Amara, what are you doing?”

“You can’t call her cause, uh,” I stammer, looking for a reasonable excuse because I know that if I told him that the boy was older, we would be heading straight to the police station, “It’s not real, okay? It’s for a school project on… Peer pressure? Yes, it’s on peer pressure and you can’t call the principal and tell her that I’m getting help from my dad. They would fail me for cheating.” I settle, pleased with my answer.

“And what class is this project for? Might I ask.”

“s*x-Education?” I say but it comes out sounding more like a question.

“They’re teaching you about abusive relationships in s*x-Ed?” He doesn’t look to be buying it.

“Yes, Dad. Abusive relationships can lead to s****l abuse and thus we need to learn to interject in situations we feel might lead to that,” I maintained, trying my best to hold eye contact as to not give away my lying. I can’t give this away because it’s not my secret to tell but I can’t just sit back and let it happen either. And before he can answer I’m hopping off the bar stool and skipping to my room.

“I better go work on that now, actually,” I rush, “thanks for the help, Dad!” His response is drawn out by me closing my bedroom door.

I throw myself on my bed face first and the soft thud it makes is much less satisfying than I anticipated. My groan of frustration is drowned out by my pillows and I reach for my LED lights remote and switch them to a dreadful blue to match my inner state.

The conversation with my dad makes me realize that my hypothetical scenario and its implications might be more real than I had prepared for. Whether or not Zen has turned 18 yet, it still feels wrong for her to be with that guy, especially after today. They’ve only been dating a few months and the acceptance when she said that he gets like that sometimes is alarming. No one should ever get used to a situation where they are used to being abused.

You just let people walk all over you, Cora.

And you never do anything about it.

Kallum’s words invade my mind once again. Who am I to judge Zen when I am in the exact same position, if not worse? She’s only known her abuser for a few months, and I’ve been letting mine get away with it for three years. I have been too much of a coward to simply ask my oppressors why they despise me so much, why they get so much joy out of tormenting me, what started it all that day.

I shouldn’t be looking forward to leaving high school and never looking back, I should be making friends and going to parties, and picking out prom dresses with my girlfriends. I should be allowed to have fun with boys and make mistakes over and over again. I should be allowed to live in those halls are more than just the shadow I’ve been reduced to.

I hop off of my blush pink comforters and race to my desk in search for a pen and notebook. My fuzzy socks sliding along the wooden floors, almost sending me crashing into my desk from the speed I am going. My mind is working in override as I write down all the things, I have been robbed of having and those I still have time to achieve.

1. Friends

2. Parties

3. School clubs

4. School dances

5. The Hall of Fame

The Hall of Fame is something I had dreamed of being a part of as soon as my little chubby feet entered that school. The giant class covered display is the first thing you see when you enter the school and on it is hundreds of pictures of students who have achieved extraordinary things in the school. That dream was crushed the moment I was chosen to be the target of the most popular and beautiful kids in the school. Bullied people don’t go on The Hall of Fame and unfortunately neither do fat girls. Heather and Asher already have their spots waiting for them along with a bunch of other people that have barely done anything but look good in a picture. But not anymore, I am done letting these people dictate what I can and cannot do with my life.

The next few hours are spent drafting a detailed plan of revenge. The first plan of action is recruiting the members of my rebellion. There are five beautiful girls in my senior class that I know for certain have been mistreated because of the labels that come with being overweight. Recruit number one is Zenaida Morris of course, one of the sweetest girls I have ever met who deserves nothing less than an eternally memorable high school experience, in the best possible way.

Next is Sarai Mitchell. She is someone I would consider one of the more popular girls in the school. Her fiery red shoulder length hair fits her fierce personality immaculately. She bounces around the school hallways with confidence that is not found every day and as a result of that she has both girls and boys falling at her feet. Her social standing can be one of my strongest assets.

Valencia Garcia is one of the girls that sits at the back of the class in every class. I have never seen her speak to anyone in the school besides her mother, Ms. Garcia. Her mother being a part of the school cleaning staff is the butt of every joke that is thrown at that girl and that should not be the case. She should not be made to feel embarrassed or ashamed that her mother essentially takes care of us all. Without her, that school would be an absolute jungle and that is something to be proud of. Valencia reminds me of myself in the sense that I’ve adopted the shadow persona and she has mastered that of the ghost. 

Noor Bashir is someone that I haven’t quite figured out yet, I don’t think anyone has. She is not the most lonesome girl, and neither is she the most popular. She is one of the very few Muslim girls in our school and walks with her head held high despite the horrific things that people have said to her. The admiration I have for her and her self-control is something that cannot be explained through words. Her sharp features are always schooled in an expression of cool indifference, making her incredibly hard to read.

Paisley Anderson is by far going to be the hardest to recruit. She is the type of girl that you don’t approach in the hallway without good reason. Even the popular girls in the school are too afraid to bully her after someone tried and the next day somehow ended up with poison ivy in their underwear on a school trip that Paisley hadn’t even one to. There are many rumors that surround her and her family about what they get up to when the sun sets, and her majestic long white hair doesn’t help ease them. I don’t care about any rumors though. This girl is going to be my superpower. With her on our side, we can conquer anything that tries to ruin us.

I spend the rest of the night drafting five personalized letter to each one of the girls, knowing that I can’t approach this in the same way to each individual. They’re each going to get something different out of this and I need to make that known from the outset. However, I can’t exactly tell them why I’m trying to get them all together, not yet at least. Some might take it as an insult but I think there is something that will get them to change their minds, the very thing I deliberately left off the list incase anyone else ever found it, the thing that we all well and truly deserve: revenge.

-------------------

The hours fly by and the bell signaling the end of the last period comes fast. My nails have been chewed raw and the knots in my stomach haven’t disappeared since I put those notes in the girls’ lockers. I made sure to come to school earlier than usual and drop my letters of invitations into their lockers. There was a lot of guessing work involved but as the day went by, I made sure to check that everyone got their letter. I felt like a bit of a creep snooping around corners and watching various girls open their lockers to find secret letters, but it had to be done. I can’t imagine the scandal if those notes were to end up in the wrong hands, specific gel tipped hands that belong to one dangerous Heather Turner.

 I don’t waste any time in rushing to the basement, my legs shaking as I take two steps at a time. My heart is pounding in my head when I reach the door and pulled on the handle. There’s no one inside. My heart sinks to my feet. They didn’t come. No, there’s still time, they are coming

“Hi,” a small voice comes from the very back of the room and standing there is Valencia Garcia. She is better than I thought at this whole invisible thing. She shifts uncomfortably under my gaze and I walk towards her and not really wanting to spook the girl any further, I offer her a handshake rather than a hug.

“Hey, Valencia,” I smile when I see her visibly relax, a small smile forming on her thin lips, “Thanks for coming.”

As soon as those words leave my mouth, a soft thudding can be heard down the hall and with the look on Valencia’s face, I’m sure she knows who those boots belong to, we both do. I motion for her to sit down on one of the chairs that I made sure to lay out accordingly in a little semi-circle during my lunch break. She takes the seat closest to the door, probably wanting to be the first one to leave if anything went south. I don’t blame her. I have no idea how any of this is going to go.

Paisley enters the room next, as we suspected, and sits down next to Valencia without so much as a look in both of our directions. She ruffles through her blazer before pulling out a cigarette and placing it in the corner of her mouth, pausing momentarily before flicking the lighter.

“You mind?” She addresses Valencia who shakes her head frantically, “Bet.” Paisley lights the cigarette before blowing an enormous puff of smoke, directly at me.

“What, so is this is three-person situation or are we waiting for more company?” Paisley asks leaning back in the plastic chair and I don’t get the chance to answer her before Noor and Sarai are walking in the room one after another and promptly sitting down.

“Hi, everyone,” Sarai pipes up, waving at everyone in the room while Noor just nods her head in acknowledgement of us.

“Okay, I guess we can get started,” I say, checking my watch for what feels like the tenth time, glancing at the door then the last empty seat. I guess she isn’t coming.

“Aren’t you the girl that lets the twins wreck her locker every year?” Noor asks but it comes more out like a declaration than a question.

“Let’s is a strong word,” I defend myself. Is this what everyone thinks of me, that I just let them do whatever they want? In a way they’re right and I’m ashamed to admit that.

“Can we hurry up a bit? I have homework to do.” Valencia speaks up, her black hair curtaining her face and I clear my throat, finding my place on the chair that I placed in the center of the circle, facing all of the girls.

“Okay ladies, I’m assuming that you all got your invitations seeing as you’re here,” I announce, “I’m glad that you could joining me in our first official meeting. The reason I wanted to start this club was because I saw a very sweet girl being treated like trash just because of the way she looks.”

Zenaida walks in and mumbles apologies for her tardiness before taking the last seat. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face, my club is complete. “I’ve already briefed you in your letters about what this club is going to be about, to get girls like us back on the map, we’ve been overlooked in every single aspect except for one but we are more than just a size on a piece of clothing,” I finish my little speech, hoping to have moved some of them but all I see are blank faces staring back at me, except for Zenaida, she’s beaming and even just that is enough for me.

“We know why we’re here. Is it always gonna be in this dingy basement?” Noor asks, standing and walking over to the window, waving away the smoke that now clouds the room from Paisley’s cigarette. She drags a short finger across the dusty surface of the windowsill, and I can’t help but I shudder at the memories that cross my mind. His face flashes in my mind and I shift in my seat, adjusting my shirt.

“Just for now. I’ll find us a better meeting place once we’re up and running, I suppose,” I hesitate, knowing that this is the only room we’re going to get, especially because I haven’t spoken to the principal yet about starting a new club and am still dreading the conversation.

“This is my first club,” squeals Sarai, “I am so excited!”

“This might be a dumb question, but how are we going to, how exactly did you put it, dismantle the hierarchical and oppressive social systems of high school?” Her words are dripping in sarcasm, making my statement in question sound absolutely ridiculous.

“Our first plan of action, going to the first senior party on Friday night,” I ignore Noor’s sarcasm, nothing can bring me down. I have a full proof plan and all my members seated in front of me, well almost all of them. My chest puffs up at the fact that even though she is skeptical, Noor is still here and so are the rest of the girls, meaning they must want to be here one way or another.

“I’ve never been to a party before,” Valencia breathes quietly, her eyes barely maintain contact with anyone but the floor in front of her.

“I don’t do parties,” Noor declares pointedly gesturing to her blue hijab that matches perfectly with our school uniform.

“We’ll work out all the kinks later, I just need to know that everyone’s in,” I plead, not caring how desperate I sound, “I can’t do this alone. Please, I need you guys.”

“What’s the name of the club?” This is the first thing that Paisley has said since the meeting started and in all honestly, I am a bit nervous to answer her. She’s sitting at the back of the room, next to a very nervous looking Valencia, a cigarette handing out of the corner of her mouth.

“Okay, hear me out before you react,” I caution, “I wanted to choose not just any ordinary name but something that will give us back our power and-” My ramblings are cut short.

“What’s the name of the club, Hall?” Paisley sits up in her chair impatiently tapping her inked nails on her knee and for a second, I’m worried that there’s no barrier between her and myself for the statement I’m about to make.

“The Fat Girls Club,” I announce trying my best to not shrink away from all the glares in the room that are immediately thrown at me. Even Valencia’s head snaps up at that.

“No way!” Noor protests at the same time that Paisley bangs her fist on the table and shouts, “Hell yeah!”

Well, this is going to be interesting.