Worthy of Love

Cover

Worthy of Love

Andre Fenton

Formac Publishing Company Limited
Halifax

For those I love.
This is for you.

Chapter 1 What Is He Eating?

It’s always an awkward question, no matter the context. I mean, I wonder if the person asking ever feels like they shouldn’t ask — it’s a need to know thing. So I was a tad confused, not really sure why everyone in this room needed to know how much I weighed. It was the beginning of the school year, and we were in Gym class. Mr. Stephens, the teacher, had us come into the weight room in groups of fives to “See where we’re at,” as he put it. The school’s new wellness policy required health check-ins during gym class. Every student had a file that held information about their height, weight, eye colour, hair colour and so on. I really wasn’t a fan of stepping on a scale and revealing how much I weighed, though. I was with a group of five that included myself, Donny, Lewis, Matthew, and Tyler.

“All right,” Mr. Stephens announced. “Donny, you hit the scale first.”

“Whatever,” Donny said.

Donny was a childhood friend of mine. We grew up together in the North End of Halifax. We were like brothers — though time sometimes put distance between us. He would hang out with the more rebellious teens while I was somewhere in between the shy kid who stood against the walls at school dances and the nerd who sat by himself during lunch. But at least I was brave enough to go to a dance, right?

Donny stepped on the scale. He had much longer hair and darker skin than I did. He was also in great shape but didn’t do a lot with it. Mr. Stephens would often hassle him to play football, and Donny would always ignore him. Donny was more of an artistic guy but not pretentious. He was the most humble, genuine guy I knew.

The numbers on the electronic scale went from zero pounds to 193 pounds.

“Not bad,” Donny said as he stepped off.

“Lewis, you’re next.” Mr. Stephens pointed.

Lewis was an asshole. I hated that guy. He was seventeen, a year older than all the other students in the room. He was held back a year. Now he was in class with us. It wasn’t glamorous for him, so he spent most of his time making my life a living hell like it was his hobby. He was what most girls would call a douchebag. I wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud.

Lewis gave Mr. Stephens a sneer with his stupid face and stepped on the scale with his chubby frame, shaved head, and pale skin. It went from zero pounds to 220 pounds.

“Hmm . . .” Mr. Stephens took note of that in his book.

“Yo, what was that ‘hmmm . . .’ about, Mr. Stephens?”

“It means we have work to do,” he replied.