“Spit it out! Now!”

But the salt made my mouth so dry,

I couldn’t.

“Dad! Dad! Come quick!”

Anaïs yelled as she and Liam watched.

Dad came in just in time to see

Mom try to pry my mouth open,

determined to remove every crumb,

as if I’d swallowed poison.

Then my parents had

one of their biggest fights ever.

Liam slipped a note under my door that night.

If they split up,

it’s all your fault.

Hope the stupid crackers were worth it.

I haven’t eaten saltines since.

PEACEKEEPER

Most every weekend I make time for

temple and church.

I’m Jewish because of Dad and

Christian because of Mom.

They taught us about both faiths

when we were young,

and then let us choose our own

when we were ready.

Anaïs and Liam chose Judaism.

But I chose both religions.

It’s part of my self-imposed

peacekeeping mission, since

I already cause

a whale-sized rift

between my parents.

SECRET STASH

In the ripped-open side of a stuffed animal.

In the pockets of an old backpack.

In a hollowed-out book.

These are just a few

of my secret hiding places

where I stash food.

Years ago, one of Mom’s diets for me

left me starving.

My stomach grumbled,

my hands shook,

and the room spun as

my body demanded more food.

Viv unknowingly rescued me by

inviting me for a sleepover.

Her mom baked cookies.

I snarfed several and

snatched three to sneak home.

When I got there,

I ripped out some stitches

on an old teddy bear

and tucked the cookies inside.

Ever since then,

every chance I get,

I squirrel away food.

I feel powerful and powerless,

free and bound,

all at the same time.

TUG-OF-WAR

It’s never a good sign when

they pick the fat girl first in gym.

We’re playing tug-of-war.

War is a fitting name since

middle school’s one big battlefield.

“I guess it pays

to have a lard butt around sometimes,”

Marissa says as she ties the anchor loop

around my waist.

My fellow teammates laugh.

“No fair!”

Kortnee yells from the other end of the rope.

“Splash could anchor a navy ship.”

Kortnee’s team cheats,

tugs even before

the PE teacher blows the whistle.

Several people in front of me aren’t ready,

and we all

fall

like dominoes.

I feel the anchor rope tighten around me

as Kortnee’s team drags me across the floor.

“Heave-ho, the whale must go.

Heave-ho, the whale must go.”

Kortnee starts the chant and

soon the words echo throughout the gym.

This is how I’m going to die—

with people laughing at me—

same as how I’ve lived.

Surely, someone sees me struggling.

Yet no one stops the war to help me.

Not even the teacher.

When Kortnee’s team wins,

I remove the rope and

relief floods my body,

until Marissa and some teammates

come over and yell at me