Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend

by Ann, Becca

  REASONS I FELL FOR THE FUNNY FAT FRIEND

  By

  Becca Ann

  Dedicated to everyone who knows the importance of laughter, and counts it as their workout for the day.

  COPYRIGHT

  All rights reserved.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

  Published by

  Becca Ann

  Copyright January 2013

  Cover Photo by Lucky Business courtesy of Shutterstock

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.

  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental

  and not intended by the author.

  Reason 1: You know how to sign the word ‘balls’

  More than half the time, girls who think they’re fat really aren’t. They’re just fatter than the skinniest chick in school. And even that girl thinks she’s fat. So when Hayley, my signing partner in American Sign Language shrugs off Josh moo-ing at her as she walks in the room, that’s when I figure this girl… isn’t like most girls.

  Fact is, Hayley isn’t really fat. She’s… I dunno. Not fat. The girls who talk about bein’ fat look that way ‘cause they wear clothes that don’t fit. Like that’s goin’ to impress us guys somehow. But the muffin top is not hot.

  Hayley doesn’t have a muffin top ‘cause she wears pants that are her size. So the moo-ing and other douchbaggery doesn’t make sense.

  Maybe it’s ‘cause I’m not that kind of guy. But whatever.

  She plops in the seat next to me, popping her gum and twisting the brown curls hanging from her ponytail. We don’t talk much. Just sign, and if she was showin’ the slightest bit of ‘woe is me’ from Josh’s comment, I’d probably say somethin’. But she’s not so I don’t feel like an ass for keepin’ my mouth shut. That, and I’m waiting for someone else to walk through that door.

  Quynn.

  It sucks wanting someone you can’t have. And Quynn is definitely a ‘don’t go there’. She’s my brother’s ex. There’s some kind of code for that shit, but that’s not what’s stoppin’ me. Gabe’s a cheating douche, so not sure if I’d feel too guilty about goin’ after his ex-girl. It’s Quynn. Every time we get together it’s just… weird. Like she thinks I’m her brother. So yeah, sort of takes her off any list I have of girls I’ll probably get to see naked. Not like there’s a long list or anything.

  The room is too hot. All the sweat makes my clothes stick to my balls. Man, if Quynn walks in right when I adjust myself, I may as well sniff my hand afterward too, since that’s how attractive I’ll look.

  Okay, Brody, be quick about it. Be cool. How do you look cool when you scratch yourself? She’s still not here. Do it now! It’s driving you crazy!

  One quick glance around the room and a shift later, nuts are in the right place and no one seems to have noticed. What a big deal over nothin’.

  “All right,” Ms. Stevens says as she turns around. “It’s silent time, now. Only communicate through sign. I’ll be walking around to check on each of you.”

  She starts weaving through the desks, and finally, Quynn walks through the door. She opens her mouth to apologize, but Ms. Stevens puts a finger to her lips and motions for Quynn to take a seat. She throws me a grin and a wave as she crosses the room. Her body looks kick-ass even in a hoodie and jeans. I’ve only seen her in something else a few times, and that was when she was in a Prom dress—worst day of my life since I caught her and douchebag brother goin’ at it in the parkin’ lot. And when she came to school once, once, in a skirt that showed off a pair of the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen. I know I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t able to concentrate that day.

  A light tap on my shoulder jerks my attention to Hayley. That’s right, we’re supposed to be doin’ an assignment or somethin’. She smiles and starts signing.

  You okay? You seem… I don’t catch the rest. She’s real good.

  Sorry, go slower.

  She smiles wider and emphasizes each movement.

  You seem in a D-A-Z-E.

  Or just slobbering over the goddess that just walked in. Same dif.

  I’m fine. As fine as I ever am.

  Well, what did you… bunch of gibberish.

  Man, I wish I was as good as she was.

  S-L-O-W!

  She giggles which gets a shhh! from Ms. Stevens.

  Sorry. Hayley blushes and turns back to me and signs so slow, her hand bounces up and down. What do you want to talk about for the hour? I really don’t want another lecture over my lack of taste in music. She rolls her eyes so I catch the sarcasm.

  No educating you then. I run my hand over my buzzed head before continuing. How about movies this time?

  She scrunches her nose. I don’t see many movies.

  I swear this girl lives under a rock. Why not?

  Her face goes red again, and I wonder if I overstepped a line or something. She blushes over movies but not the moo-ing? Yeah, I don’t get girls at all.

  Sorry, did I butt in?

  She flushes deeper. Dude, what’s wrong with her? Movies I guess are out. She looks around and waves me in closer, so her signs can only be seen under our desks.

  It’s no big deal or anything, but… more gibberish.

  I grunt and stop her hands with mine. They feel kinda warm and she jerks away, going so red I don’t think there’s any blood in any part of her body but her face right now.

  Slow, please. Maybe adding the magic word will stop her from acting so weird.

  Sorry. I was saying, I don’t see a lot of movies ‘cause I don’t go out much.

  Why is that such a big deal? I wait for her to go on, but she sits straight up and starts signing so fast I’m pretty sure she’s not saying anything at all.

  I start for her hands again, then I get it. Ms. Stevens has a very distinct smell. I’m almost chokin’ on the flowers wrapped in bacon stench coming from behind me. I glance at our teacher whose lips are pursed as she signs, Are you going to answer her, Brody?

  Whoops. Hayley was way too fast for me to keep up. I lock gazes with my signing partner, and she re-signs the question.

  So, who would it be? Jessica Alba or Scarlett Johansson?

  Okay, if she’s asking about Invisible Woman vs. Black Widow, then I know the answer, but if she’s asking who’s hotter, how am I supposed to answer that with Quynn lookin’ at me from across the room?

  Scarlett, I guess. My hands won’t stop shaking, so that’s all I say. Ms. Stevens waves in front of my face.

  Work on your ‘S’s. She leaves, but not without me goin’ as red as Hayley was just a few seconds ago.

  Hayley clears her throat. Oh right. We were in the middle of something.

  Sorry. We were talking about not going to movies. Then you pull two actresses out of your butt.

  We both stifle our laughter. I sorta like it when girls think I’m funny. Does weird things to my stomach, but in a good way.

  So like I was saying, I don’t get to go out much. You know, because I’m just not one of those girls.

  No, I don’t know. I don’t have the secret handbook that lets me know everything. Girls that like to see movies? I chuckle and she chuckles.

  No. Like I’m not… She stops and does a mock thinking face. It’s kinda cute. I don’t get asked out a lot. She signs it fast, but I catch it.

  How do I respond to that? It’s not like we’re best buds, and that’
s a pretty big thing to admit for a girl. Man, even for a guy, it’s hard to admit. Why is she telling me?

  You have friends though, right? I attempt a smile.

  She nods. They’ve all got boyfriends. Sitting in a theater with a bunch of people making out around me? No thanks.

  She attempts a smile. I wonder if I look as half-hearted as she does.

  Yeah. I get that. Boy do I get that. I was Mr. Third Wheel around my brother.

  It slaps balls.

  I bark out laughing. Did she really sign that, or did I interpret it wrong? But she’s laughin’ too, and everyone’s looking at us.

  “Do I need to separate you two?” Ms. Stevens asks, lips in such a tight line I wonder if it actually came from her mouth.

  “Sorry. I’ll try not to tell jokes anymore since Brody can’t find a volume control on his laugh.”

  I laugh again, proving her point, but not much I can do about it since it’s already out there. Quynn giggles across the room, and even though I’m gettin’ a big fat ‘see me after class’ look from the teacher, it was worth it.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hayley says after the bell rings. She scoops up her book and throws her bag over her shoulder, smacking me in the face.

  “Whoops! Sorry.”

  I shove her bag out of my way and give her the not-so-serious-mad look. She laughs and waves, knocking other people over as she makes her way to the door with her over-crowded backpack.

  Maybe she doesn’t live under a rock, but a pile of homework.

  “Brody?”

  I force myself to look at Quynn slowly. If I whip around too fast, I’ll look like I’ve been waiting for her to say my name like that. Which I have, but still. Be cool.

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you have a sec? I need to ask you something.”

  Why does she make me nervous? We used to hang out all the time before…well before Gabe banged another girl.

  “Yeah.”

  Instead of letting me stand, she perches her sexy form on the top of my desk, which leaves me eye level with her chest.

  Oh dude.

  She smells like spicy apple. I know exactly what lotion she wears, because I’m that pathetic. She watches everyone leave the room with a big smile on her face. Damn that smile. Her eyes flick to me and everythin’ shifts below the belt. Am I ogling? Or drooling?

  I hear the door click, leavin’ us alone. Guess Ms. Stevens wants out of here. “Kay, so I’ve got a huge favor to ask you.”

  Look up, look up. Her eyes are just a few more inches up.

  “Okay.”

  She reaches into her pocket. Her snug pocket. Look up.

  “Could you give this back to Mom? I mean… your mom?”

  It takes me a minute to process. And to look away from the sudden hurt in her face. Quynn was tighter with their boyfriend’s mom more than I’ve ever seen someone else be. When I finally get a grip, I notice the bracelet Mom gave her dangling between her fingers.

  “Why?” I drag the word out and fold my arms.

  “Don’t make me smack you, Bro. You know why.”

  I hate that nickname because of the stupid double-meaning. Is she calling me Bro ‘cause she still thinks of me as her brother? Well, that’s not a far reach, since she just called my mother, Mom.

  “She won’t take it back. And I’m not goin’ to let you give it back either.”

  Her puff of breath nearly knocks me over with how good she smells. “Please, Bro. I know it was expensive, and I just don’t feel right about keeping it.”

  I shake my head. She’s got to be kiddin’ me. I’m not going to get sucked into the drama more than I already have.

  Another puff hits my face. “Fine.” She slides off my desk and drops the jewelry into her pocket. Without another word, she’s out the door.

  Damn brother ruins everythin’.

  Reason 2: You walk with a book on your head

  “Hey hun,” Mom says as I walk through the door. “How was your day?”

  Standard Mom question.

  “Fine.”

  Standard kid answer.

  She waves me into the kitchen with a knife in her hand. Then she goes back to chopping tomatoes. I wrinkle my nose.

  “You’re going to eat these and be happy about it,” she threatens as I sit on the bar stool across from her, letting my backpack drop to the floor by my feet.

  “Yes, Mother.”

  She makes a face. “I hate it when you say that.”

  I laugh. “I know.”

  She picks up a tomato slice and shoves it under my nose. “Now you have to eat it. That’s your punishment for being a smartass.”

  “Uugh.” My gag reflex pumps in my throat as I push her hand back. “How about I just say I’m sorry?”

  “And…?” She waves the slice in my face with a huge grin.

  “I love you?”

  “Say it like you mean it.”

  Moms suck. “I love you, Mom. Now get that out of my face before I blow chunks.”

  “Ew! Brody!” She laughs and sets the tomato back on the cutting board. “Don’t make me lose my appetite.”

  “Okay. No more barf talk.” I smile. “As long as you don’t make me eat any of that.”

  Picking up my bag, I sling it over my shoulder before I head to the fridge to grab something that doesn’t taste like a squishy foot.

  “Oh, before I forget,” Mom says, reaching into her pocket. “You left your phone on the charger again this morning.” She slaps it into my open hand while I stuff my face with leftover cake.

  “Sorry,” I say through the mouthful.

  She ignores my lack of healthy taste in food. “I don’t know why you even have it if you never use it.”

  She’s right. I use my phone maybe twice a day. Once to turn it to silent, and then again to turn the volume back on. Yeah, I’m that popular.

  “Thanks.” Kicking the fridge door shut, I give her a fist-bump—‘cause Mom’s that cool—and slip downstairs to my room.

  Oh dude, it stinks. I should’ve opened my window or something. It smells like morning. You know that smell… B.O., ass, and corn chips. Opening window now.

  I plug in my iPod and strip. That ASL room really is too hot. Or maybe it’s just me sweating a rainstorm whenever I’m around Quynn. Stupid puberty and shit. Girls don’t sweat like this. And if they did, they sure know how to hide it.

  In the time it takes to shower and get dressed, morning stank has officially left my room, replaced with cologne and aftershave.

  I yank out my homework and slam it on top of my cluttered desk. Homework blows. I asked Quynn once what the point of it all was. She just rolled her eyes and told me to shut up. Then I think I blacked out watching her bend over to pick up all the papers I’d tossed to the floor. Man, that ass.

  Whoa! Brody, focus! She’s not even here and you’re mentally stripping her.

  First, Calculus. Better get the tough stuff over with.

  Two hours later, Calculus book has a drool stain on it, and Mom’s yelling down the stairs.

  “Brody! Answer your phone!”

  Huh?

  The standard ringtone gets cut off as soon as my fumblin’ fingers hit the answer button. “Hello?”

  “Hey, you got a bunch o’ crap at my house. Come get it before Nicole gets here. She needs the room.”

  Ah, douchebag brother.

  “Nicole’s moving in?”

  “Yeah. So come get your stuff.”

  “Fine.”

  Click.

  Yeah, I really don’t know why I own a phone.

  “Yo, Mom!” I call into the kitchen as I tug my shoes on by the door. “Mind if I take the car to Gabe’s? I got stuff there he wants me to grab.”

  “Sure, but please don’t stay long.” The edge to her voice says everything she thinks about my brother right now. “And take your phone!”

  “I got it.” Door opens. “Be back in a bit.” Door closes.

  One of these days I’ll get my
own car, but for right now I have to make a Chevy Corsica look cool. I got my work cut out for me.

  Douchebag brother lives about twenty minutes away, but with the way I floor it, I’m there in ten.

  My ‘crap’ is on the porch. At least I don’t have to talk to him.

  I chuck the box in the trunk and crank up the radio. He makes everything turn to junk.

  It starts to rain, and the windshield wipers need to be replaced. I put it on my mental checklist of stuff I gotta tell Mom. Right next to ‘no more tomatoes’ and ‘disowning Gabe’.

  Clunk.

  Did I hit something? What the hell was that noise?

  Thump.

  Uh, yeah. Can’t be good.

  The car slows.

  What now?

  The car stops.

  Dammit. No gas. Wish Mom would’ve told me it was running on fumes. But at least I didn’t just kill a little girl’s cat.

  The rain picks up—of course—and I hurry and push the car to the side of the road. Please let me have a gas can.

  “Brody?”

  I whip around. “Hayley?”

  Her curvy figure comes into focus as she jogs over. She’s carrying an umbrella and balancing a book on her head, her high ponytail holding it in place. I have to blink a few times to make sure I’m not hallucinating.

  “Do you need help?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Okay, do you seriously think I’m goin’ to ignore the book on your head?”

  She giggles. “The safest place for it is up there. It’s a library book, and I don’t want it to get wet.”

  Bizarre girl. Why am I laughing with her?

  “Well, I’d offer you a lift, but I’m kind of stranded.”

  I pop the trunk. Oh good, a gas can.

  “How about this…?” She puts the umbrella over my head and takes a step closer. “You let me put my book in your car to stay dry, and I’ll walk to a gas station with you so you don’t have to look like you’ve just gone diving in the South Pacific.”

  I chuckle… again. Dude, what is that?

  “Deal.” I don’t mind getting a little wet, but I don’t mind company either.

  “Awesomesauce.”

  Do people actually say that? She grabs the book and chucks it in my trunk before I shut it.