when you look up the definition of gym:

gym (noun) \´jim\

: school-approved body-shaming session.

Well, that’s what it should say.

Athletes love PE, an easy A.

Everyone else just tries to survive it.

If you don’t have hang-ups about your body

before you take phys ed, you will after.

You’re literally graded on

what it can and cannot do.

Like a pack of feral cats

with a trapped mouse,

the other team tortures me slowly

during dodgeball by

making me the last one standing.

Then the players pounce,

zinging me with all the balls at once,

leaving stinging welts.

Outside and in.

Afterward, I change in a bathroom stall

instead of the locker room.

But my clothes aren’t hanging

on the hook where I left them.

Laughter bounces off

the cement-block walls.

I don’t have butterflies in my stomach.

I have pterodactyls.

Fat Girl Rule:

When you hear laughter,

someone’s laughing at you.

Still in my gym uniform,

I square my shoulders and

slam open the stall door.

I find Marissa trying on my

new orange peasant top.

“Hey, Kortnee,” Marissa yells,

“two people can probably fit

in Splash’s shirt! Try it on with me.”

“No way,” Kortnee yells back.

“Not getting fat girl cooties all over me!”

When I hear a seam rip, something rips in me.

I turn into a feral cat cornering two mice.

“Enough, Ski Slope Nose

and Moon Crater Face!”

Each girl freezes—like an armadillo in headlights

under my glare.

I snatch my shirt out of Marissa’s hands.

“Got something to say about my body

when you have obvious flaws, too?”

“We were just joking.

Lighten up,” Marissa tells me.

They silently slip on their clothes,

and I go back to the stall to dress.

I won’t raise my hand in any classes today

so no one will see the rip

in the armhole.

Standing up for myself

is a good thing, right?

So why do I feel

so mean,

so sad?

SIBLING BRIBERY

Forget sibling rivalry.

I’m all about sibling bribery.

Mom, Dad, and Anaïs are busy,

so Liam’s supposed to drive me home,

but he offers me twenty bucks

to take a DART bus instead.

I take it and make him give me

cash for the fare, too.

Liam’s taking some girl to the mall.

I get it—who wants their kid sister tagging along?

But I’m not supposed to use

public transportation until I’m thirteen.

That’s a little over a year away,

so I’ll be fine.

With an app,

I figure out which bus I need.

But as soon as I sit down,

I realize I’ve made a mistake.

Two teenagers start in on me.

“Please, I beg of you,

kill me if I ever look like that.”

“Oh, trust me, I would.”

An old woman pats my hand.

I think she’s trying to comfort me