The Whale - 1. Part I, chapter 1

AMY

- I -

You know how there is always one person nobody likes and everyone ridicules? It's not just a misfit -- misfits usually hang out together. No, that person is a total loner, loser, beyond annoying, and sometimes, disgustingly fat. Not cheerleader-opinion-fat -- 120 pounds -- no, that person is fat fat. Like 260 with a height of 5'3. Yeah. Seriously, you look at her and you want to gouge your eyes out. But then you think, hey, why would I make myself suffer? I'll just make her suffer, right? She is worse than an eyesore; she makes me taste bile every time I see her -- and you gotta be blind not to see her, she is a freaking elephant! -- so it'll be just a fair payback. And then you don't even feel bad about throwing junk in her hair, spitting on her back, wiping snot on her clothes. Hell, when you land a good spit, you feel proud! You get the picture, right? Everyone knows what it feels like to have that one person around that you can harass and feel righteous about it. Yeah, well... I am that person.

I didn't have weight problems until I turned sixteen. When that happened, my body said, "Okay, that's it! We are going to balloon to an enormous size, and you will help me out a lot with that task if you keep loading on all that greasy goodness. Don't even think about saying no, because I will give you cravings that will make you jealous of pregnant women." So I never said no. At first, it didn't seem like a big deal. I mean, a hamburger or two a week is not going to hurt you, right? It didn't. But then it was like, "Well, it's not going to be too bad if I add some fries on top of that... And maybe a sundae... And a milkshake..." When I noticed that I gained five pounds, it didn't bother me too much. My mom always told me that I was way too skinny anyway. So I ignored it. I don't really remember how it became my habit -- to have two Big Macs, large fries, a sundae, and a large Coke every single night. When my clothes got too tight, my mom said that I was simply growing out of them, and it was totally normal. "Amy, you can't expect to remain size three forever," she said. And I agreed.

Seriously, it took me five months to get from size three to size twelve. And three more to get to my fabulous 260 pounds. For some strange reason, it didn't even bother me. People at my school seemed like they couldn't care less if I looked like a beached whale. I wasn't popular even when I could wear short skirts to begin with, so it didn't even matter. I loved eating. I loved food. I loved everything that was filled with greasy, artery-clogging goodness. And don't get me started on sugar! I would kill for Red Velvet cake. I guess someone might say that it was my reaction to my parents' nasty divorce, that happened several months before I all but dove into the fat-filled sea of food. Maybe that's right, I don't know. I mean, my dad totally dropped the bomb when he said that he was moving out because he couldn't stand my mom's whining and nagging any longer. So he moved in with her best friend instead. And a month after the divorce was finalized, those two got married. I guess I started eating when he called me and said that Sarah -- his new wife -- was pregnant.

I was the only child, and I hated that my entire life. I had a ton of imaginary friends, and sometimes, I would be so caught up in my own little world, that I would start talking to myself out loud in public. My mom would always be super-embarrassed. She'd look at me and hiss, "Knock it off, Amy! People will think that you are a mental patient!" I never understood why she cared so much what some total strangers would think. I mean, she would never see those people again, right? But I would always stop and feel guilty. I loved my mom; loved her so much that I would almost cry every time she mentioned dad's name. I saw pain in her eyes. Pain, disgust, hatred, and even fear. Soon enough, I started to hate my dad for what he did. And six months after that -- TA-DA!! An elephant coming through! Watch out, everyone!

I guess I would keep on eating, and probably would die of a heart attack at a tender age of twenty-five or so, but then my mom decided to sell the house and move the hell away from that place. She said that all the memories and tears wouldn't let her sleep at night. So she sold the house, and soon enough, we moved to a different one. In a different city. In a different state. And worst of all -- I had to go to a different school. I didn't realize how much it would affect me until my very first day there. When I saw the faces of my new classmates -- some were amused, some disgusted, some just plain mean -- watching me squeeze through the doors, my heart immediately sank. I quickly looked around and realized that there was not a single person in the entire class who'd be even remotely overweight. Great, I thought bitterly. I am in Skinny-Land. That's just great!

And then I saw him. God... I knew that I was going to hate this guy with a passion. He was one of those people that you take a single look at, and immediately feel like every single alarm in your head is going off. "Get away from him! He'll hurt you!" You know the type. The one that looks smug all the time, the one that has bully written all over him. The type of person that would push you down the stairs just to see how many times your head can hit the steps. I immediately knew that this guy was going to make my life miserable, because the minute he looked at me, there was that malicious glint in his eyes that made him look like some sort of an evil genius.

"Attention, everybody!" The principal decided to introduce me to everyone himself. I guess he figured that with the way I looked, I needed all the help I could get. He was right.

"Attention!" he called again in a louder voice and everyone fell silent. "Thank you. This is Amy Bauer, she is your new classmate. Be nice to her, do not harass her, make her feel welcome!" he looked pointedly at the evil genius guy, who reminded me of one of The Simpsons characters. I almost expected him to start rubbing his hands together and murmur, "Excellent, Smithers..."

The guy blinked and turned away, a tiny, cruel smile playing with the corners of his mouth. Ugh, I knew that this entire year would be hell for me. Unless this guy dropped dead. Or moved. Or maybe got arrested.

"Okay, everyone!" the principal looked somewhat convinced that he just did me a great favor. "Take a seat, Amy! Have a great day!"

'Take a seat, Amy'... Right. I looked around and saw several empty seats. One of them was next to the guy with the glint in his eyes, and I thought that I would kill myself before I sat next to him. Thankfully, there was a completely empty desk in the back, and I sighed with relief. I walked towards it, and when I was walking by the evil genius' desk, he indifferently stuck his foot forward, and of course, I tripped. Thank God, I didn't fall. If I did, I think I would kill myself for sure.

"Mr. Russell!" the principal barked.

"Oops," the evil genius said sincerely. "Sorry. Didn't see you waddling here..."

Everyone laughed at that. Great, he is the class clown as well. Great personality and awesome sense of humor. Fantastic!

"Mr. Russell, did you just ask for detention?" The principal's voice could cut glass right now.

"No, sir," the evil genius said immediately. "Was an accident, sir! Will never happen again, sir!"

More laughter. The principal took a deep breath, as if he was trying to restrain himself. It seemed to me that he was somewhat used to Russell's attitude though.

"Have a good day everyone," he said evenly and walked out of the classroom.

I got to the empty desk and silently prayed for it to be big enough. If I get stuck in here... I shuddered. Happened once. Wasn't pretty. I carefully squeezed behind the desk and was enormously relieved when the desk was big enough and I even had some room left. Not too much, but at least I could breathe.

I pulled out my books and tried concentrating on the subject of history, when Russell turned to me and quickly threw a small, folded piece of paper on my desk. I blinked. A note? What, he is telling me to go get a hamburger because I look too skinny? I carefully unfolded the paper. "Welcome," it said. "Gym is next. Can't wait to see you wearing something really tight, you chunk of love, you!" I threw the paper aside, my face immediately burning hot. Why can't he just let me be? This is my first freaking class in here, and he already made me feel like wailing and beating my head on the wall. I will have to spend five days a week with these people and him in particular. I mean, I didn't do anything to him! Why can't he just leave me alone?! I grasped the pencil so hard that it broke. Russell who was watching me like a hawk after I unfolded his note, laughed, and I wanted to stick this broken pencil into his ear and push it until it came out of the other ear, covered in grey matter.

"Pencils are fragile," he whispered loudly. "You might wanna get something out of rubber, so you can squeeze it all you want!"

"Luke..." the history teacher said tiredly after the entire class started giggling. "Knock it off, will you?"

"Yes, ma'am," he turned away from me.

I sighed and tried to concentrate on my book. I am not going to show how much it bothers me or I will never get any peace. These people are hyenas. And the pack leader's name is Luke Russell.