and show girls with

rolls and curves.

Girls like me.

I learn big girls,

even obese ones,

were once seen as

normal,

preferred,

beautiful.

I can’t imagine a world so . . .

safe.

As I flip through the pages,

I start thinking that if I’d lived back then,

it could have been me

in the pictures,

as sculptures,

as art.

My body seen as

pretty.

Mrs. Pochon comes and

checks to see how I’m doing.

“Finding everything okay?”

“I’m finding a lot,

and it’s fascinating.”

“Yes,” she says.

“Ideas of beauty change with time.

Who knows what people will think

years from now about

what we consider beautiful today.”

After she leaves, I think about this.

It would be great if people realized that

we’re all different, in all kinds of ways,

and different is okay.

But I bet there will always be some

who don’t get it.

What’s important is that

I do.

SPEWING ANGER

When it comes to Doc,

I’m learning to expect the unexpected.

Today she’s dressed like the White Rabbit

for Halloween.

“Do you celebrate?” she asks.

“Not so much.

Mom’s not a fan because

of all that candy.

I’m not a fan because

costumes never fit.

It’s truly a night of horror.”

Doc nods and we both laugh when

her rabbit ears fall off.

When I fork over my list of ugly words,

Doc flips through them and stops.

“Tell me about this one: chair.”

I explain what happened in math class and

show her some of my bruises.

Doc’s whiskers twitch when she winces.

“You should be angry

from all the bullying,

but I don’t see you

expressing that emotion.

Come with me.”

We go outside,

and Doc hands me a bottle of soda.

“Give it a good ol’ shake.”

I do, as I show her some side-eye.

“What’s this all about?”

“Patience is a virtue.”

Her rabbit nose makes her sound

as if she has a cold.

“Patience is a virtue, Doc,

but impatience is a gift.

And I’m gifted.”

She laughs until she snorts,

sending the fake rabbit nose soaring,

while I keep shaking the bottle.

“Now open it, Ellie.”

“But it’ll go—”

“Humor me.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Doc.”

A frothy, fizzy fountain

spews all over us.

“That’s a perfect example of

what happens when

you bottle up anger.

Whenever you do release it,

it’s going to make a huge mess.”

MISMATCHED

I spot Mrs. Pochon

wheeling a cart full of books

to the library.

“If that cart were a book character,

it’d be Cartniss Everdeen.

Quiet and stealthy,” I say,

coming alongside her.

She laughs.

“You’re so clever.

That reminds me.

I’ve been thinking

you’d make a great student assistant.

I could really use some help

shelving books and

creating displays.

You could pack your lunch and

eat in the library workroom.

Interested?”