He runs toward his dad,

stops, comes back, and adds,

“Oh, and save some food

for the rest of us, would ya?”

The little boy gets

a high five from his dad,

and everyone at their table dies laughing.

In a flash, my dad’s at their table.

The little boy’s dad stands up.

Dad towers over the guy.

Now I can imagine

what Dad looked like

growing up on the Panhandle ranch

and wrangling bucking bulls.

A hush falls over the restaurant.

“You. Owe. My. Daughter. An. Apology.”

“I’m sorry she’s fat?” The boy’s dad chuckles.

The manager comes over,

steps between them.

“Let’s all remain calm.”

Mom stands up.

“Stop, Phillip. Let’s go.

We’ve been humiliated enough.”

We?!

“We are out of here.”

Mom tugs on Dad’s arms as

she tells us kids to go to the car.

Like I said,

Mom always decides what I get.

A COMET’S TALE

I’ve been keeping a secret,

Viv texts.

You’re scaring me.

Are you okay?

See for yourself.

She sends me a link to a video.

A mascot that looks like a snowball,

but with a blue-and-orange flame tail,

dances onto a football field.

The crowd yells,

“Go, Comet, go!”

The band’s drums pound:

pum, pum-pum, pum.

Comet wags the tail

at the opposing team:

whoosh, whoosh-whoosh, whoosh.

The home team erupts in

cheers.

Comet dances until

the football players run onto the field,

its arms morphing into snakes

and hips making figure eights.

I recognize those moves!

Viv is the mascot!

Then Viv and I video-chat, and

it’s so good to hear my friend’s voice.

“I’ve never been cheered on

by my classmates before.

Being chosen as the mascot

is a huge honor.”

“I’m so proud of you!

So happy for you!”

I mean it.

But I’m also envious.

Viv’s found a cool way

to be okay

with her size.

How do I do that?

To me,

that seems as impossible as

finding a unicorn.

LIAM’S WISH

In English class, my teacher says

that even the worst villain

has a bit of good inside.

She obviously hasn’t met my brother.

I find an extra notebook in my backpack

that Mom must have thought was mine

when she was straightening up.

I flip it open.

It’s Liam’s writing journal.

Having a fat sister stinks.

We can’t do stuff

like go to amusement parks

‘cause she can’t fit on the rides.

And when we go out,

people stare at all of us,

not just her.

Sometimes it ticks me off,

and I want to punch people.

Mostly I just wish I didn’t have

to be seen with her.

Liam is so full of hate for me,

I can’t even think of him

as my brother anymore.

DNA doesn’t make you family.

Love does.

Actions do.

Outside, in a rage,

I tear page after page