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Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Quinn, Kate Karyus.
Title: Not hungry / Kate Karyus Quinn.
Description: New York : West 44, 2020. | Series: West 44 YA verse Identifiers: ISBN 9781538382691 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781538382707 (library bound) | ISBN 9781538383353 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Children’s poetry, American. | Children’s poetry, English. | English poetry.
Classification: LCC PS586.3 Q566 2020 | DDC 811’.60809282--dc23
First Edition
Published in 2020 by Enslow Publishing LLC 101 West 23rd Street, Suite #240 New York, NY 10011
Copyright © 2020 Enslow Publishing LLC
Editor: Caitie McAneney Designer: Sam DeMartin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer.
Printed in the United States of America
CPSIA compliance information: Batch #CS18W44: For further information contact Enslow Publishing LLC, New York, New York at 1-800-542-2595.
I'M A LIAR
A liar who tells only one lie. The same one again and again. As I skip lunch for the third time that week. Or pass on the tub of popcorn —the biggest they offer— as it travels between my sister, my mom, and I. Or pick at a piece of pizza before tossing it in the trash. In all these situations the same three words work. I’m not hungry. This is my lie. A simple one. A huge one. Truth is: I am ALWAYS hungry. Truth is: I’m starving. I must be a good liar, though. No one ever calls me on it.
MY BEST FRIEND LIKES TO GOSSIP
She’s so anorexic. Lacey whispers as Stasia Keene wafts by. Caught shoplifting, she says of Dane and Darcy, the Vinet twins. She even knows the details. Dane tried to get a power drill down his pants! Darcy lifted her shirt as a distraction! Usually, though, it’s less reporting facts and more Lacey has a hunch. Heard Simone Avet puking during third period. The upchuck diet is big with the Perfects. Perfects. That’s Lacey’s name for the popular girls. Bet she’s trying to size down in time for prom. Actually we later learned Simone Avet was pregnant. Lacey still claimed it as a win. I knew something was going on!Lacey thinks everyone has secrets, but really she means everyone who isn’t us. Never, not once, has she ever guessed at mine. When I have: five baby carrots, four bites of an apple, three swallows of nonfat yogurt, and one nibble at the edge of an Oreo… Lacey is too busy scanning the cafeteria to notice. Anyway, what’s there to see? Just another fat girl on a diet.
I NEVER LOSE WEIGHT
The best I can do is misplace it. Give it a month, maybe two. I find it again. Rounding out my hips so my jeans won’t z i p. Beneath my chin, making mine a D O U B L E W I D E. Even at my lowest, I’ve never been skinny. I can’t stop trying though. My dream isn’t to be a n o r e x i c. But for people like Lacey to think I could be.
ONCE I DIDN'T EAT
for two whole days. After my second night not eating dinner I passed out walking up the stairs to my room. My mom was screaming. Are you sick? We can’t afford an ambulance! What’s wrong? So I confessed. She went quiet. Then finally she said, softly, Wish I had that sort of self-control.Like she was… proud of me. Once I won the spelling bee at school. I brought a trophy home. I was so happy. But Mom only glanced at it and said, Well, that’s good I guess, but don’t get too full of yourself. You’re only spelling the words, not inventing them.But the night I passed out she helped me stand. Put me on the couch. Propped up with a pillow. Then she heated a can of soup. Chicken noodle without the noodles. She picked them out. So I had broth and carrots and a few sad chunks of gray celery. We don’t want all your hard work to be wasted. She stroked my forehead in a way meant to be motherly. Except she wasn’t that type of mother. It just felt weird.
MY SISTER, MAE,
is beautiful. She wakes up two hours before school starts. Paints her lips dark red and ripe. Her cheeks pink dots on glowing skin. Long dark hair hangs down her back, in long, silky ringlets. My sister, Mae, is beautiful. Every day she wears a dress. Polka dots or stripes. Sweetheart neckline and a nipped-in waist. Wide flowing skirt and cute little kitten heels. Like a glamorous ’50s housewife on her way to high school. My sister, Mae, is beautiful. Sometimes she’ll complete the perfect picture with a plate of brownies she stayed up late to bake. Not from a box, either. It’s her own extra gooey, extra chewy triple chocolate brownie recipe. Mae gives them to her boyfriend, Erick. Er- ICK. Emphasis on the ick. Erick, star of the wrestling team. Neckless wonder. A guy who says, Mae, get your fat butt over here.Erick. The love of Mae’s life. He gets Mae’s specially baked brownies. Erick eats half of them while handing out the rest like a king. Everyone at school knows about Mae’s brownies. Tweets go out: Brownies sighted!Erick loves the attention. And Mae loves him. I guess it all works out that way. My sister, Mae, is beautiful. She counts herself L-U-C-K-Y to have Erick in his varsity jacket. Even when he grabs her chest in the middle of the SENIOR HALLWAY. And yells HONK, HONK, HONK. My sister, Mae, is beautiful. But she’s a liar, too. Because she LAUGHS and says, It’s just a joke. OR He doesn’t mean it. OR I don’t mind, really I don’t.My sister, Mae, is beautiful. And the BEST person I know. Sometimes, when my arms are too heavy and too tired to lift up and wash my hair… Mae will do it for me. In the kitchen sink like when we were kids playing beauty shop. Her hands are soft and exact. She combs out the tangles, then blows it dry, too. My sister, Mae, is fat. The doctor actually said she’s obese. Fat is ugly. Everyone knows that. My sister, Mae, is a mystery. She’s both fat and beautiful. She is completely herself. Like she doesn’t know how else to be. I once said to Lacey, Everyone knows Mae. And everyone likes Mae. So Mae must be popular.Lacey laughed. That’s not popular. Popular is everyone wanting to be you.Our mom’s sister, our aunt, who is both scary and skinny, once told Mae it was a shame about her weight. She could’ve been a real beauty. Like Mae’s beauty was trapped --------------- --------------- ----under---- her own flesh. And not sitting out on TOP where everyone could see. I see it, though. I see Mae. And she is beautiful.
I ATE
The hunger was unleashed. Usually it growls and strains at its chain. Today it burst free. I ate all the leftover takeout rice. It fell out of the container solid like a brick. I bit into it cold as it crumbled in my hands. Scooping up the bits that fell to the floor, I shoved them in, too. It wasn’t enough. I ate leftover off-brand Oreos forgotten at the back of the cupboard. I ate the smashed bits of chips left at the bottom of three different bags. I ate instant pudding mixed with milk not waiting for it to set. And then I licked the bowl. I ate bread. Toasted with butter and honey. Slice after slice. Fast as the toaster spit them out. I ate slices of pepperoni. Old and crusty at the edges from that night long ago when Mae and I made pizzas from scratch. (Really Mae made them and ate them while I watched.) I ate until mid-chew— I felt IT. Then I ran.
AT THE BACK OF OUR HOUSE
There’s a row of hedges HUGE and OVERGROWN. I leave a little shovel out there to quickly re-dig my hole. “The purging place,” I call it. Where I bury my shame. Now I throw up, eating in reverse, closing my eyes so I don’t have to see. The ground is not like the toilet, whisking all away with a brisk flush. It just takes it into itself. Isn’t that what dirt is anyway? The guts of the earth. The things underneath we don’t usually see.
SHAKY, I STAND,
wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve. That’s when I see him. A boy near my age lOOking over the fence. STARING at me. His expression… Unreadable. I blink. Once. Twice. Sorry, he says. I heard… I didn’t… I thought someone needed help.I swall
ow. My throat is raw and my mouth tastes like garbage. I’m fine, I say. My second lie. A new one for me. It’s not convincing. I give it another try. Really, I’m fine.A bob forward, an awkward sort of bow. And then I flee. Back into my house where I BOLT the doors behind me. It doesn’t help to keep my questions away. Oh god. Oh no. Who the heck was that? And how much did he see?
WORSE AND WORSE AND WORSE
He’s at school the next day. I see him in the hall after first period. Our eyes meet. I look away, my face burning. At lunch Lacey has ALL the details. Toby Watkins. Sophomore. Like us. Popular. UNlike us. Basketball star at his old school. Lacey hesitates. My breath catches. This is it. Toby told EVERYone what he saw yesterday. But Lacey only sighs. I’ve got bio with him... he’s really cute.And I realize she has one of her hopeless c r u s h e s again. On him. Toby. The new boy. Who saw nothing. Or maybe everything. But said nothing to anyone. At least not yet.
ONE WEEK PASSES
Then two. Then three. Toby the new boy becomes simply Toby the popular boy. Someone with no bearing on my life. Except Lacey is officially obsessed. Lacey knows Toby’s ENTIRE class schedule. Lacey knows his middle name. She knows he’s allergic to peanuts. The next day and every one after, Lacey packs a cheese sandwich instead of her usual. PBJ. Every time she takes a bite, I wonder exactly what she hopes will happen to make this switch worthwhile. Lacey knows he doesn’t have a date to the Homecoming Dance yet. But he’s going. All the student athletes are encouraged to attend for RAH RAH GO TEAM school spirit. And Toby is already part of the basketball team. Lacey explains all this breathless. Eyes sparkling behind her glasses. We’re joining the dance committee. She announces this, certain I’ll say yes. Only after I shake my head and make a face does she add, Please? Oh please. I’ve got to be at this dance. If we’re on the committee we have an excuse to be there. I sigh. Or… we could just buy tickets, I counter. Lacey shakes her head, annoyed I’m not getting it. I don’t want to just be there watching. I want to be part of it. I want to be seen.I put down the french fry gone cold after I’ve fiddled with it for 15 minutes never taking a single bite. In these last three weeks I’ve lost 12 pounds. In these last three weeks I’ve watched Toby, too. Our eyes keep snagging as we C C R R I O S S S S the same hallways. He lOOks. He sees. It’s getting harder and harder to look away. I imagine him and me at the dance. I imagine our eyes meeting while music pumps and lights flash. I imagine him saying… I don’t know what. But… I want to keep pretending I might find out. I agree to join the Homecoming Dance Committee.
I'M HOME ALONE
Mom’s working late. Mae’s out with Erick. This is when I find it hardest to be hungry. This is when I eat. I pace the kitchen, opening and shutting cupboard doors. I want to eat. I want to feel full. But I can’t. I keep looking over my shoulder. Certain someone is there. Certain someone will see. I cut raisins into quarters and chew each bite 20 times. I drink diet soda and chomp the ice. I pretend it’s enough.
THE DOORBELL RINGS
It’s Toby. TOBY. Standing on the cinder blocks stacked outside our front door. Sorry, he says. I’m not— I hope— I don’t— He’s upset. Unable to form a full sentence. Finally, he gives himself a shake. My grandmother. She fell in the shower. She can’t get up. She won’t let me in. There’s no one else. She said to give her a minute. But it’s been thirty.The words fall out fast then slow like he’s unsure how much to give away. All the while I nod stupidly. Then I realize. It’s my turn to say SOMETHING. I panic. I’m June. Toby frowns. Confused. Hi. I mean, yeah, I should’ve said I’m Toby. I live next door. I figured you…Knew. He doesn’t say it aloud. I hear it anyway. Of course I know who he is. And he knows me. Maybe not my name. But everything else. Can you… help me? Maybe? He breaks the awkward silence. With your grandma? He nods. Yeah. My face is flushed. My palms are sweating. Sure. Yes. Of course. Happy to. Yeah. Let’s go. Lead the way. It is word vomit. How appropriate. At least it works. He turns. I follow.
MY FRONT DOOR CLOSES BEHIND ME
We cross the grass wet with rain. His front door opens before me. All the while I wonder… is this happening?
NAKED OLD LADIES
are slippery and grumpy and rude. They yell if you help and yell if you don’t. They snarl and curse and threaten to bite. They do NOT say thank you. And yet I’d help a hundred more if every time after Toby smiled and said, Oh wow, you saved my life. Thank you. Seriously, I owe you big time, June. I shrug. Mumble, No problem, a million times and turn to leave. Wait, Toby calls. You… busy now? Want to… hang out? I nod. Yes. Yes. Yes. I do. I do. I do.
EVERYONE HAS SECRETS
Toby talked to me. Everyone has secrets. He said lots before that, but those three words stuck. And left me wishing I’d asked, What’s yours?
THE NEXT DAY
at school I see Toby in the hallway between classes. Our eyes meet and hold. Instead of looking away, I smile and raise my hand to wave. Suddenly, Toby turns back into the empty classroom he just left. My hand F A L L S to my side. But the stupid smile stays while I keep walking down the hall. Hanging on my face like a light left on in an empty room.
THERE ARE TWO TOBY’S
Lacey tells me all about Toby Number One. Toby talked to me. Do you know what he said? She sighs. Then quotes, “There’s toilet paper on your shoe.” Wasn’t that sweet of him to let me know? I agree he’s sweet. But Lacey has already moved on. He’s awful at math. Maybe I should offer to tutor him?He is awful at math. I think this, but don’t say it aloud. I know this because Toby lies on my bedroom floor most afternoons and groans until I push aside my own books and help him understand algebra. This is Toby Number Two. The boy who leans in to me and says, Mmm, your hair smells nice. The boy who tells Mae her brownies are worth millions and then begs to lick the spoon. The boy who makes me lick that same spoon. One for him. One for me. Passing it back and forth until finally he says, Last lick for you. The boy who breaks my heart every day when he goes to school and... Toby Number Two reverts back to Toby Number One. The boy who looks the other way when we pass in the hallway.
I'M NOT
falling for Toby. I’m not that much of an idiot. Even as we spend more and more time together. I’m not skinny. But I am losing weight. I’m not hating it when people notice and say, Wow, June, you look great! Even Lacey notices. You’re not gonna eat that… right? She points to the ham sandwich in my hand. I’ve been poking holes in the bread. But haven’t eaten a single bite. I’m not going to say no when Lacey’s lunches have been looking thin. Sometimes toward the end of the month if her dad doesn’t send the child support check she gets half sandwiches with just jelly in between. I push my sandwich across the table. Watch as she bites into it. HUNGRY. I swallow. I’m not HUNGRY. I’m not. The cookies, too? Lacey asks. I pass them across the table. Her white teeth bite into the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. They leave half-moons around the perimeter as she works her way around, nibbling away until only the center remains. Gracefully brushing away the crumbs, she flicks a look my way. You do look good, June. But you can’t just diet. Eventually you need to exercise, too.
I’m not the type to tell Lacey where to shove her helpful advice. I’m not the type to tell her I’ve been hanging out with her secret crush. But if I were. Oh, if I were. I can just imagine the look on her face.
BASKETBALL BEGINS
and Toby disappears. No more after-school homework while lying on my bedroom floor. No more Wheel of Fortune
with his Grandma beating us both every time. No more distractions from Erick fighting with Mae in the next room. (Hey, he says. You gave the brownies to me. I can sell ’em if I want to.) (Mae answers, Of course, They’re yours. I just didn’t understand. Do you need money?) (Mae, you dope, he says, tenderly, I suppose. Everyone needs money. A pause. Then he adds, casually cruel, Anyway, I’m sick of brownies. Doncha know how to make anything else?) No more ability to ignore the pan of lasagna forgotten at the back of the fridge. I eat it cold. Scooping handfuls, sucking red sauce from my finger
s. For the first time in a long time I feel full. It’s wonderful. And wrong. Bad. Then worse as my stomach swells, pushing against the belt I now use to keep my pants up. The lasagna comes back up even faster than it went down. Into the kitchen sink. Down the grinding garbage disposal. Afterward, I stand looking into the empty sink. Feeling empty. But not better. I’ve just finished washing the pan when there’s a knock at the door. It’s Toby. I know it. Another knock. I creep toward Mom’s room. Her window looks out toward the front of the house. ~~~~~~~ Carefully ~~~~~~~ parting ~~~~~~~ the blinds ~~~~~~~~ I ~~~~~~~~ peek ~~~~~~~~ out ~~~~~~~~ There’s Toby, his head bent over his phone. We only exchanged numbers last week. He put me in his phone under the heading: CUTE GIRL. It was a compliment. No boy had ever seen me as anything other than fat. It was also a lie. He didn’t want my name in his phone. He didn’t want anyone to see JUNE listed. To know he knows me. My phone rings. Quickly, I silence it. I wait and watch as Toby knocks once more. I wait and watch as Toby walks away. I’m devastated. I’m relieved. Mostly I’m tired. Tired of being HUNGRY. And tired of wanting what I can’t have.
A WEEK PASSES
I stay busy with Lacey and the Homecoming Dance Committee. It turns out I’m good at planning Homecoming dances. I make a poster using my laptop to cut and paste the heads of football players and cheerleaders onto the bodies of knights and ladies to match our theme of Ye Olde Homecoming. Everyone is impressed. I don’t tell them I learned this skill while pasting my head onto skinny models. Lacey helps. She knows everyone and where to find their pics online. Oh, his Instagram is sooo good, she says. The committee members tell us we need to help with ALL the dances from now on. Lacey is thrilled. Actually, I am, too. It makes me realize: Maybe I’ve made my life smaller than it needs to be. Walking home I’m thinking about Homecoming throne construction. I’ve forgotten completely about Toby… Until I get home and he’s in the kitchen with Mae as she works on the perfect shortbread cookie, explaining to Toby, I can mix it up. Add chocolate chips or fruit or nuts. That way, it’s never the same. That way, Erick won’t get sick of it. Toby, seeing me, winks, then tells Mae, I can’t imagine anyone getting bored with you. Mae flushes. Not me. He’s not bored with me. We’re good. We’re great. It’s the brownies. You can’t expect him to eat brownies all the time. I should’ve known. So stupid of me. Mae catches sight of me. I must look mad. What’s wrong? she asks. Instantly concerned. Worried for me. I can’t tell her I want to murder ErICK. Or that I want Toby gone. Nothing, I say. I’ll just miss the brownies, I say. Me too, Toby adds. Don’t let Erick ruin them for the rest of us. He stresses the ick
Not Hungry Page 1