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Chapters (67)
  1. Big Boned
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. One Month Later
  60. Acknowledgments
  61. About the Author
  62. Copyright
  63. About the Publisher
  64. Backad 1
  65. Backad 2
  66. Backad 3
  67. Backad 4

“No, you’re not. You’re coming home, right now.” I could see she was trying to hold on to any semblance of power she still thought she had as a parent.

I shook my head. “No, Mom, I’m not. You don’t get to have this both ways. You don’t get to be my mom when it’s convenient for you.”

And with that, I walked away.

Things I Like about Myself by Lori Palmer

I’m a good sister.

I’m a real artist (despite what Blackwell says!).

I, Lori Palmer, am officially good with parents!

I have a voice. There is power in my art.

I am brave!

I am a great kisser!

I’m a good friend (even if I don’t really want to be just a friend).

My voice can start a movement!

My body is a work of art!

I have great boobs. I mean . . . AHMAZING!

I am hot!

I stand up for myself.

50

“Oh my God,” Guy gasped. “Did you really do all that street art?”

I nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell us? We leave you for five minutes, Lori Palmer, and you go and get yourself in trouble with the law!” Guy put his hands on my shoulders.

“That’s insanely awesome that you did that,” Thembi said to me.

“Thanks.” I looked over at Jake. He was smiling at me.

“Sorry I also didn’t step forward and claim responsibility,” Andile said in a small voice. “But you know, I’m a Black male, I’d probably be the only one arrested for it. It’s street art when someone like you does it, not so much when someone like me does it.”

We all turned and looked at him. His words had stopped us dead. They were sad yet true, and we all fell into a moment of silence as we considered their implications.

“I’m sorry,” I said to him. But what was I sorry for? Sorry for the way the world worked? In that case, sorry wasn’t nearly a big enough word.

He shrugged. “I’m cool,” he said, and then walked up to me and draped a big, protective arm over my shoulder. “I heard what you said to your mom in there. It couldn’t have been easy.”

“Not that she didn’t totally deserve it,” Guy said, also resting a hand on my shoulder.

I nodded at them both and smiled. I was okay. I had finally said what I needed to say to my mom—okay, so I hadn’t imagined it happening with such a large audience. “I’m good,” I said.

“So . . .” Andile declared loudly. “We’re all dressed up, looking gorgeous and have nowhere to go, and I’m desperate to dance.”

“Me too,” Guy said. “Where to?”

“I know, let’s go to Le Beach,” Thembi suggested.