Chapters (38)
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- epilogue
I glanced at my phone, surprised to find I’d passed two hours navigating a sea of confusing notes. The day was sunny and I’d had enough reading. In two minutes I had my faded tank suit on, covered by a huge white Birmingham Barons t-shirt. I fixed a sloppy peanut butter and banana sandwich, barbecue potato chip and Diet Coke feast to enjoy poolside. Halle stared after me at the living room window, no doubt cursing my freedom and food. The pool area was usually deserted this time of day. I was banking on complete privacy. No one wants to see the pale chubby girl basking in a lounge chair with banana and peanut butter smudged on her chin. I’d start my diet tomorrow.
As I licked my fingers clean—it occurred to me I was turning into my fat, lazy cat’s white twin—I heard a door close and approaching footsteps. Jake Hodges came into view, strutting in A&F swim trunks and no shirt to cover his perfect pecs. Jake ran the complex’s gym and worked as a personal trainer to the few who could afford it. Suddenly I was on an episode of The Biggest Loser, longing to melt into oblivion, a humiliated peanut butter and banana puddle left to sizzle on the cement.
“Hi, Ronni,” he grinned. Haven’t seen you in the gym lately.”
I squinted up at him. “No, I’ve been working most of the time. I’ll be back soon.” I gathered my used napkin and Diet Coke can, hoping the napkin conveyed freshly consumed celery and carrot sticks. As I tugged my shirt into place I found the inevitable Jif mark where I’d dripped. It could have passed as baby poop, which I’d consider less embarrassing.
“I’ll come by for a workout soon, Jake.” I stood awkwardly and headed to the safety of my apartment for a nap.
“Good.” He caught his reflection in the pool and our conversation was complete. I wondered if he’d drown retrieving a mirror tossed in the deep end.
I trudged home and inspected myself in the bathroom for signs of sun exposure. There were none, not even my usual brilliant pink hue. My reflection revealed a large, very white girl, likely descended from Irish mole people who would never tan. I took my hair out of its ponytail and shook it loose to fall in a series of droopy blond curls down my back. My eyes were dark blue and slightly red from the sun. I blinked several times and tried to imagine myself with a smooth, sleek bob with bangs like Kait’s. My face would look like a vanilla Moon Pie.