Skinny • Book 1 In The Reality Series

Katy

Per usual my weekend was as luster lacking as the cafeteria chowder, a delicacy I braved only once and after puking it up after a rather intense PE session, refused to ever endue again.

Monday was equally uneventful, Calum and Michael had apparently forgiven one another and were back to their normal selves, well, as normal as they could be. Annie who’d been out of school since the crowded hallways were too dangerous of a place to handle without her brother there to protect her, was back, and as more and more time passed, the accident was more or less forgotten.

By the time the following Monday rolled around, as much as it pains me to admit it, Luke was more or less completely forgotten and the petty, irrelevant worried of high school restored, like who would be taking who to homecoming.

Such topics had never interested me much so I was rather surprised, when sitting on the wet metal bench in the girl’s locker room, tying my shoes, someone plopped down next to me and struck up a conversation.

Confused since Annie had already left to go find Michael and tell him how she’d proven herself the most flexible after doing a back bend which would make most Olympic gymnasts weak in the  knees, I stared hard at my shoes, not wanting to make eye contact with the person next to me.

Clearly oblivious to the strong, ‘I’m invisible please don’t acknowledge my existence,’ vibe I was trying to create, she looked over at me and smiled.

“Hi.” She greeted.

Panicking internally, I glanced up momentarily, my eyes narrowing at the sight of Sierra. Lipstick stains on Calum’s neck Sierra. Sierra with the good boobs. Unconsciously my eyes wandered to her chest and the two undeniably perky lumps of fat which dwelt there.

“It’s Kathy right?” she questioned.

“Katy.” I said slowly.

“Oh, right.” She laughed, pulling her gym t-shirt over her head revealing the kind of bra one typically associates with a stripper, or a model, or a stripper model hybrid.

Forcing a smile, I tried not to watch as she removed a black, Velcro brace from her locker and wrapped it around her middle, instantly making her sit more upright.

“Are you going to homecoming?” she questioned, casually, as if we were old friends and not more or less complete strangers.

“No.” I replied quickly.

“Why not?”

Why do you care?

I shrugged.

“Didn’t anyone ask you?” she pressed, as if she didn’t already know that being seen within a hundred feet of me was more or less social suicide.

I shook my head.

“No one asked me either.” She laughed, “I was going to go stag but if you’re up for it we can go together, as friends you know, girl power or whatever…If you want.”

Surprised, I looked over at her and watched as she pulled a baggie sweatshirt over her head, concealing the brace completely.

“I’d skip it.” She continued, “But my Mom is like, obsessed with this kind of stuff, we bought my dress in July.”

“I don’t have a dress.” I mumbled awkwardly, wondering how much it would cost and if my meager Burger Hut wages would even come close to covering it.

“We can go shopping for one!” Sierra breathed, in that stereotypical way girl’s usually do when referring to shopping, “There’s this place at the mall that has like, the cutest dresses, if I didn’t already have one, that’s where I’d get mine.”

Looking down, I finished tying my shoe, then looked back up at her, “I don’t know if I can afford it.”

“We can go to the Thrifts Store.” She said, not skipping a beat, “They always have super cute dresses around this time of year, I have this friend, her Dad lost her job, she got her prom dress there….Prom. Like you only have one prom, and she found a dress and it was super cute.”

“I don’t know.” I said slowly.

“It’ll be fun.” She coaxed, “My brother’s fiancé owns a beauty salon so she can do our hair and nails and markup, it’ll be great!”

“Don’t you have other friends you’d rather go with?” I asked, pulling my hair into a low ponytail.

“No.” she sighed, “I used to hang out with my sister and her friends, they all graduated last year, and everyone else has a date.”

Hesitating for a moment, I turned to look at her, “You wouldn’t be embarrassed, to go with me? Aren’t you embarrassed talking to me?”

“No,” Sierra laughed, “Why would I be?”

“Everyone else is.” I muttered.

“Who cares what everyone else thinks, this is high school,” She sighed, standing up and tossing her brown hair, which she’d recently dyed back to its original color over her shoulder, “Everyone else sucks.”