The Fat Girls Club

I have never felt sentimental about high school or anything that it embodies, especially this school, but the first day of senior year has to have some significance in everyone’s life. It is one of the last firsts that I am going to experience within these walls, and I have never been happier. Silver Oak is a place that I will gladly leave behind and never look back. Silver Oak High School: a place where your appearance ranks how successful you will be. It is like a much smaller version of the town we live in, Port Bo. Port Bo is the type of place you've never seen on any map but instead would accidentally stumble upon while taking a road trip. The scenery consists of large mountains that enclose the beachy area and the thing that makes most people stay is the unexpected amount of wealth for such a small town. Almost all the businesses and boutiques are independently owned, albeit by the same two families, and because of that, most of the wealth generated is kept in the town. However, once you stay for longer than just a weekend visit, there are certain things that you start to notice. The locals stop being so welcoming, their bright cheery smiles morph into expressions of annoyance and judgmental scorns. The greenery starts to look dull while the once inviting ocean suddenly turns ice cold and the warm sun has been replaced with a biting wind.  There is a certain front that is put up to the outside world about how perfect this little town is and how lucky one would be to live in such a place but in reality, it’s all lies. It's a town full of fake people portraying fake images and sadly that can already be seen in my high school peers and how their image in important above all else. The pristine walls and polished floors reflect my distorted reflection back to me as I enter the building. My blue and white school uniform hugs my curves tightly, making me remember to ask my mom to go shopping for bigger sizes soon. She has been busy the entire summer working at her restaurant while I've been her guinea pig, trying every single new dish to provide feedback. I tug my skirt down a little bit, noticing how much more uncomfortable I feel in these halls than I did when I tried it on at home, I could have sworn it wasn't this tight.  I have watched myself grow in many ways in those reflections and today I can proudly say that I walk with my head held high, prepared for anything that this year is going to throw at me.  People are standing in clusters, guys fist bumping and girls squealing at each other and unlike other years where I would have just scoffed and looked the other way, my heart aches a little bit at the realization that I am going to be leaving this building exactly as I entered it, alone. Well, that is not entirely true, I was with him before the doughnut incident. That was before he moved away right after. Just thinking about him makes my stomach flutter ever so slightly but I shove those feelings deep down and scold myself for still thinking about him after all these years. Every single year since Freshman year my personal tormentors have taken it upon themselves to make a point of decorating my locker in their own creative ways. The first time it was doughnuts stuffed so deeply into the crevices that it took me a week to properly get the grease smell to go away, the second time it was cookies that were dunked into milk and that sludge took me even longer to clean especially because of the infestation of ants that it had created. Last year was probably my least favorite as the first day of school fell on my birthday and let’s just say it put me off cake for a very long time. This year however, I came prepared. I am simply not going to give them validation that they seek, I will keep my head held high, look at the mess, and make my way to my first class. I am not going to run and cry in the bathrooms as I have previously because why should I be ashamed of a mess that I did not create? My heart starts to race as I near my locker, the not so discreet snickering and giggles getting louder with every step and I hear more commotion as I’m about to turn the corner to face the what I know will be the worst prank yet, it being senior year and all that, when someone knocks into me to hard that the books I am carrying almost go flying everywhere. Before I lose my balance there are hands steadying me and gently pushing me against the lockers behind me. “What the-” I start and then immediately swallow my words when I realize who is standing in front of me. I swallow hard, almost chocking from the shock. I haven’t seen him in years since that dreadful day. Kallum Taylor stands looming over me with a blank expression painted on his face and my heart rate involuntarily picks up. I try to hide the surprise in my face but I can't and his indifferent expression throws me off considering the fact that this is the first time this boy hasn’t been to our school in over three years and yet here he is basically pinning me against the lockers. Silky strands of his dark hair fall into his face and almost reach his eyes, but not quite. His hands are braced on either side of my head and his white school shirt is rolled up above his elbows where little swirls of ink peek through. The dark ink can be very easily traced through the thin material of his shirt that clings to his arms. I never thought of him to be the type to get tattoos but looking at them makes my mouth go dry. “Cora,” he says my name nonchalantly, in lieu of a greeting. "How have you been?" He asks, his eyes taking me in from my feet and finally landing on my eyes. Still looking down at me with that bored look, he casually glances around the corner then back at me as if expecting me to say something. But I can’t, not when the last conversation we had was an argument about which Pokémon we were dressing up as for Halloween. We both picked Charmander, but he ended up going as a hot firefighter, at least that is what I had heard from all the girls gushing about it at school on that Monday. I was not invited to the party. “Kallum,” I mimic his tone, trying my best to seem as uninterested as one can be while pinned to a locker by their estranged childhood best friend, “Can I help you?” My voice quivers and my façade of disinterest is blown. I have so much that I want to ask him, starting with simply how he is. I wasn’t there the day he was given the news about his mother’s passing but from the heartbreaking scream and cries I heard down the hall from my own classroom, I knew it was bad. They had to pull him and his older brothers out of school that day and they never came back. Until now. He does not answer and instead his eyes slowly find mine. I try to hold his gaze but fail miserably. Noticing my discomfort, he drops his hands from the sides of my head and takes a small step back, giving me back my personal space. It doesn’t aid in my shock but at least I have space to breathe and it gives a chance to properly look at him. His then smooth jaw has hardened drastically and there is a light shadow of stubble peaking through. I might not have recognized him had it not been for his eyes. The dark pools reflect my own and he holds my gaze so much behind that stare that I can’t quite decipher. “You do not want to go there,” he says sternly, gesturing to the direction of my locker, “Trust me,” he emphasizes. His statement makes my blood boil because he has no right telling me anything about that situation especially because was there that day when all of this started. He was there and he turned his back on me. I had been looking forward to starting high school the whole summer and I walked into school with the biggest smile. Excitement fueled me because I was finally going to see my best friend after being on a family trip and barely talking to him for the whole of summer vacation. I had a melting Charmander shaped Swiss chocolate in my clammy hands to gift him and I knew he would absolutely love it. There was so much I had to tell him. When I got to my locker there was a crowd of some of the kids that we had went to middle school with, and they were laughing hysterically at something that I couldn’t see. When I got closer and saw the cruel prank they had pulled, I turned to Kallum with big glassy eyes and when I called out to him, he turned his back and joined the popular kids. We haven’t spoken since that day. “Trust me, I’m used to it. Thanks for the warning though, how about instead of warning me, you tell your friends not to vandalize my locker?” I spit unable to control my temper and attempt to walk away but he blocks my way again. “Those people are not my friends,” he hisses through clenched teeth, leaning on the lockers next to me. I have to tilt my head up quite significantly to meet his gaze, but I don’t back down. “What do you want from me, Kallum, after all this time?” I sigh, not emotionally prepared to be having this conversation, not today. I was prepared to walk out of this school never seeing Kallum Taylor again and I had made peace with that fact. “I was just trying to help you, but you know what?” he pauses, stepping out of my way, “Go ahead and let them make a fool of you. See you around.” He turns on his heel storms away, leaving me standing alone in the hallway. I watch him as he retreats and I am not surprised to see that he still has kept one thing from his childhood, his temper. I stand there with a sinking feeling in my stomach and I am not sure what to do for a while. Only after regaining my composure I sigh and turn around. All my confidence has been lost. Maybe Kallum is right and the best way to deal with the situation is to avoid it. Walking in the opposite direction, I can’t help but feel a bit like a poser, I had spent the most of summer vacation preparing for the moment where I got to look Heather and Asher Turner dead in the eyes and after years of running away and crying, this time I was prepared to grin and maybe even swipe a taste of the dessert they had left me. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t have gone that far. Heather and Asher Turner. The two people who have singlehandedly made my high school experience absolute garbage. Just thinking about them makes me grind my teeth. They are the notorious poster twins for Silver Oak High, quite literally they are on the poster on the side of the building. Heather being the student body president for almost two years running now, while Asher is the captain of the basketball team, and lastly the little crucial detail that is always somehow left out of every school pamphlet; their mother is the principal. Thus, meaning they can get away with almost anything they want, and the administration always turns a blind eye. That's how most things work in this town, however. If you do not fit their preconceived notion of what an ideal person should be like, you are immediately written off and they will not hesitate to turn a blind eye. And as someone with flabby arms, a thick waist, and afro-textured hair, I'm at the absolute bottom of the food chain. I find my way to my favorite place in the entire building, the basement. There is nothing particularly special about the basement, most of the old classrooms down there are occupied with cleaning supplies and outdated computer equipment. But there is one room at the end of the hall that I always gravitate to which is the old sports equipment room. Most of it has been cleared out with the gym having gotten a massive renovation a few years ago, so the room remains out of use. I make sure to wait until no one is paying attention to descend the stairs leading to gloomy hallway that is always vacant save for a few of the cleaning staff and grounds keepers. They don’t mind that I come down here though, I feel like they can relate to being treated like nobodies by the entitled student body of this school. As usual the hallway is deserted and while some might find it creepy to be walking down a dim hallway by yourself, I find it comforting. No one to stare or judge me. Walking up to the door of my own secret escape, I see that the door is slightly ajar and that alarms me because no one ever comes down here. I reassure myself that it is probably just Ms. Garcia, the head cleaning lady of the school, looking for something perhaps. When I open the door, I am greeted by a dark room and so I flick the light switch only to find Heather Turner and Shaun Davis, making out on one of the dusty tables as if their lives depend on it. Heather yelps and jumps as far as possible from Shaun before frantically grabbing all of her stuff that had fallen out of her purse that was sprawled on the desk. She composes herself and fixes her uniform before turning to face me with that famous blinding smile. Our blue and white school uniform hugs her petite frame perfectly as if it were specially made specifically for her. Her perfectly cropped shoulder length blonde hair shapes her face, allowing her soft features to be even more pronounced. If I didn't know who she was, I would think that she is the sweetest girl, based solely on her aesthetic. But I've come to learn that aesthetics can be misleading and just because someone dresses like a soft girl, doesn’t mean they don’t have the sharp tongue of a snake. “Excuse us, love,” she says in her usual honeyed voice, grabbing Shaun by the tie and pulling him towards the door where I stand, “To be young and in love is so magical. Surely, you know the feeling.” She winks and saunters past me, insulting my nostrils with her sickly-sweet perfume. She doesn’t even give me a chance to answer before she is striding down the dim hallway with her boyfriend in tow, her heels creating an eerie echo. I’m surprised she is not upstairs waiting to humiliate me together with her brother and then promptly acting surprised when their dearest mother shows up. But then again hers and Shaun’s blooming relationship has been the talk of the school since he asked her to junior prom last year so I'm sure them walking out from the basement looking disheveled was exactly her goal to remind everyone that they are still the hot topic.  For the second time today, I am left standing alone with a heavy feeling in my chest. First period hasn’t even started yet and already I am so drained. I close the door with a little more force than expected and internally wince when it bangs against the frame. Setting all my stuff down, I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to remember everything that I promised myself during summer break. I will have a good day because it is my choice. I will have a good day because it is my choice. I will have a good- The door clicks behind me and I slowly open my eyes. “No freaking way,” I gasp to myself and spin around to face the door. I immediately reach for the doorknob and twist, hoping that my ears are playing a cruel trick on me. Nothing, it doesn’t budge. After a few more unsuccessful attempts, I huff and slide down onto the floor with my back against the door. I’m locked in here and there is only one person who knows that I am in here and would have access to school keys. I had a feeling she wouldn't just let go of the fact that I avoided their locker prank and interrupted her make-out session with her boyfriend. I promptly check my phone and curse loudly when I see the little no service in the corner. Before I can even comprehend the severity of the situation that I am in, I hear a loud shrill ringing coming from all around me. I know that sound. It's the fire alarm.