Cover

Dedication

To every kid who’s ever been told, “You’d be so pretty or handsome, if . . .” You ARE beautiful. Now. Just as you are. You deserve to be seen, to be heard, to take up room, to be noticed. So when the world tries to make you feel small, starfish!

FOR JUST A WHILE

I step down into the pool.

The water is bathwater warm

but feels cool

compared to the blisteringly hot air.

Kick. Gliiiiiiide.

Stroke. Gliiiiiiide.

Side to side

and back again.

Dive under the surface.

Soar to the top.

Arch my back.

Flip. Flop.

As soon as I slip into the pool,

I am weightless.

Limitless.

For just a while.

NAME-CALLING

Eliana Elizabeth Montgomery-Hofstein.

That’s my name.

My bestie, Viv,

and my parents call me

Ellie or El.

But most people call me Splash

or some synonym for whale.

Cannonball into a pool,

drenching everyone,

and wear a whale swimsuit

to your Under the Sea birthday party

when you’re a chubby kid

who grows up to be a fat tween

and no one will ever let you live it down.

Ever.

SPLASH IS BORN

Now, whenever I swim,

I use the steps to ease into the water,

careful not to make waves,

because the memory

of my pool party plays

in my head like a video on a loop.

It was my fifth birthday.

I wanted to be the first one in, so

I ran to the edge and

leapt into the air and

tucked my knees into my chest.

Water sprayed up

as I sank down.

I bobbed to the surface,

expecting cheers for

the splashiest cannonball ever.

That didn’t happen.

“Splash spawned a tsunami!”

my sister, Anaïs, shouted.

“She almost emptied the pool,”

my brother, Liam, chimed in.

I dove under,

drowning my tears.

I wish I could tell everyone

how they made me feel that day—

humiliated,

angry,

deeply sad.

But every time I try to stand up for myself,

the words get stuck in my throat

like a giant glob of peanut butter.

Besides, if they even listened,

they’d just snap back,

“If you don’t like being teased,

lose weight.”

FAT GIRL RULES

Some girls my age fill

diaries with dreams and

private thoughts.

Mine has a list of

Fat Girl Rules.

You find out

what these unspoken rules are

when you break them—

and suffer

the consequences.

Fat Girl Rules

I learned

at five:

No cannonballs.

No splashing.

No making waves.

You don’t deserve

to be seen or heard,

to take up room,

to be noticed.

Make yourself small.

WHAT, WHY, WHO, HOW, WHEN

The first Fat Girl Rule

you learn hurts the most,

a startling, scorpion-stinging soul slap.

Something’s changed, but you don’t know

what.

You replay the moment in your mind from

every possible angle, trying to understand

why.

Why the rules exist and

who.

Who came up with them and

how.