Reasons I Fell for the Funny Fat Friend

by Ann, Becca

  “I ran into a friend, and she had an umbrella.”

  “She?” Dad raises his eyebrow. He’s my stepdad, but he’s more of a dad than bio-dad is. Bio-dad pulled a Gabe and destroyed Mom’s heart by runnin’ out on her with another chick. But Mark, he’s not like that.

  “Yeah. Girl in my ASL class. She walked with me to the gas station then I took her home.” Yeah, I’m honest with my parents. Vague, but honest.

  “That was nice of her.” Mom smiles while Dad still shoots me the eyebrow. “What’s her name?”

  “Hayley.”

  “Oh that’s right. You’re signing partner.” Mom waves her hand in the air then sets it on Dad’s shoulder. “Well, now that we’re all here, we can eat.”

  She walks off into the kitchen. I’m about to follow her—stomach needs some attention—but Dad leans forward, not lookin’ at me but at where Mom just disappeared.

  “All right, kid, I know you’re a big boy, but I skipped this conversation with Gabe, and you see how well that turned out.”

  “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “I’d like to think I’ve taught you by example how to treat the women in your life with respect.”

  Yeah, he has. So I nod.

  “You just be good to all the girls out there.”

  “She’s just a friend, Dad.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  I mentally pat myself on the back for opening Hayley’s door for her. “O-kay.”

  “Are you guys coming?” Mom yells from the kitchen.

  I bolt for the table before Dad can unleash anymore parental wisdom on me.

  Reason 4: It’s easy with you

  Is this Hayley?

  Delete.

  Uh, hey. This is Brody. Took you home earlier and I was…

  Delete.

  So, been thinking about your offer…

  Ugh.

  This is why I don’t use my phone. I sound so stupid via text. I suck in a breath and try again, pressin’ send before I can change my mind.

  Hayley? Brody. Just wanted to make sure I had your number right.

  It’s gone, and I can’t overanalyze my lack of text lingo.

  The phone vibrates about fifteen seconds later.

  Ding ding ding! You win! Would u like prize behind curtain #1, curtain #2, or curtain #3?

  I chuckle and shake my head as I type my response.

  2 is my lucky number.

  Send.

  Okay. Getting easier. Only one try that time.

  You’ve won a 20 min phone convo. with yours truly. Call me when u get this msg to claim ur prize! :)

  I hit the dial button before I even think about what I’m doing. She’s just easy to talk to. Even via text.

  “Sup?” She says it like one of those gangsters.

  “Hey.”

  “How goes it?”

  “Uh, all right.”

  “Wow.” She laughs. “You are full of conversation. I don’t know if twenty minutes will be long enough.”

  At least she can’t see my face go red. “I was just wonderin’ what you were doing tomorrow after school?”

  “Hmm… Hang on a sec.”

  A door slams, and the music in the background muffles.

  “Sorry, I think I heard you wrong. Did you ask me what my plans were tomorrow?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Was that wrong?

  “Oh.”

  Is that all she’s going to say?

  “Uh, Hayley? You still there?”

  “Yeah, sorry. Um, I’m just going to go to the library again, hopefully without the rain this time.”

  I clear my throat. Why is this so hard? It’s not like I’m asking her out.

  No, just asking her to hook you up with some other girl.

  “Want company?”

  “You want to hang out with me?”

  “Yeah.”

  She pauses again. What do I say? Do I say anything? Or just sit here like a moron?

  “This isn’t a date is it?”

  “Uh—”

  “Because I don’t want your pity.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want a pity date just ‘cause I haven’t been on one.”

  I laugh. I don’t mean to but it just happens. “No. It’s not a date. I wanted to talk to you about, you know, what you said earlier.”

  “Oh!” She laughs. “Yeah, that’s totally fine.”

  “Then I’ll pick you up after school. That okay?”

  “Awesomesauce.”

  There’s that word again. I chuckle. “Awesomesauce.”

  “Oh! I gotta go. You can claim the rest of your fifteen minutes some other time.”

  “All right, see ya.”

  Click.

  Easier than I thought. Even with the semi-weirdness.

  The student union is always packed during lunch. I don’t even know why we have a cafeteria since everyone eats out here anyway.

  Sticking my earphones in and turning on my iPod, I get ready for the routine lunch hour: People watching.

  Don’t know why, but this is what I do. Most of the group I hang out with has B lunch. But lucky me, I get stuck with A.

  The music drowns out most of the bull talk, so I try to guess what people say by their body language. The runnin’ dialog in my head keeps me entertained.

  Jasmine Walters saunters over to Josh, sticking her obviously stuffed chest in his line of sight. Let the commentary begin.

  Hi Josh. Don’t you just love how big my tits are today?

  Yeah, what is it? Two ply?

  Why yes! Thank you for noticing. It took me all morning to make sure it was crinkled enough to see.

  Good job. Maybe tomorrow you can make them even.

  That’s a great idea. Why didn’t I think of that?

  Shaking my head as I chuckle to myself, I turn my attention to other victims of my internal bashing. I spend a few minutes dissecting the theater geeks. They all think they’re popular because they’re ‘Super outgoing!’ But really, they’re just loud. My music can’t even blast their obnoxiousness into oblivion.

  Right in the middle of my heckles, Quynn sidles past Brittney, who’s doing a ridiculous pantomime. The definition of sexy herself holds a bunch of papers and looks a little like she just came in from a windstorm.

  I’m an idiot ‘cause I leap to my feet and do a Mission Impossible sprint toward her.

  “Hey!” Crap, my voice shakes. I’m supposed to be cool around her. “You need help?”

  “Yes!” She grabs the top half of her huge stack of papers and plops it into my arms. “Thank you Brody. I just need to get these to the front office.”

  “No prob!” Ugh. I sound just as bad as those theater geeks. Note to self: keep mouth shut till Hayley gives pointers.

  My stomach twists. Great. Why does this keep happenin’? Damn nerves.

  “Just set them here,” Quynn says when we get to the main office. The lights are off, and since we’re both buried under papers, they stay that way.

  I set the stack down on the already messy desk and they topple to the ground.

  “Whoops.”

  She giggles and balances her stack before bending over.

  Don’t smack her ass, Brody.

  I chuckle at the inside joke I have with Hayley as I lean down to help. “I think it’s time they clean off this crap.”

  She nudges my arm. “I will once finals are over. Two more months.” She sighs. “I can’t believe it.”

  Oh yeah, she’s an office aide durin’ this hour.

  “Mmmhmm.” Holy hell. I’m brain dead.

  “You going on a senior trip or anything? Last hoorah?”

  I shrug. “Hadn’t planned on it, but somethin’ might come up.”

  The last of the papers get scooped up and set carefully on the desk. My knees pop as I stand.

  “You know, I still have the tickets for Universal.”

  That’s right. Gabe was supposed to take her for Spring Break.

  “You
still goin’?”

  She twists the end of her ponytail. She does that when she’s upset. And it’s pathetic I know that. “No. Going would just remind me I was supposed to be there with G-Gabe.”

  Stupid brother. I wish I could wrap Quynn in my arms right now to comfort her, but my mind quickly comes up with an alternative.

  “Sorry,” I say and reach for her hand to stroke the back of it. She gives me a squeeze, and my brain shuts off.

  “It’s fine, really.” Another squeeze then she lets go, her cheeks turning pink. “Um, so do you think your parents would want them?”

  That would get them out of the house over Spring Break. Sounds like a good idea to me.

  “Well, I guess if you’re sure you don’t want them—”

  “Great!” She pulls out her purse behind the desk and digs through it, finally pulling out a couple of creased vacation packages. “Please save me from looking at these every ten seconds.”

  Why does she have to say stuff like that? It makes me want to smother her in my grasp and hold her till she’s put back together. And the other part of me wants to go pummel my jackass brother.

  “Thanks.” That’s all that leaks out my mouth.

  “Thank you.” She plops into the swivel chair. “Really. I’m glad you didn’t put up a fight like you did with this.” The bracelet I refused to give back to Mom tinkles as she tosses it back in her purse.

  I lean against the desk, trying not to knock over any more papers. “That’s different. My mom didn’t piss you off, did she?”

  She pouts and doesn’t answer. I grin. I got her there.

  “She wants to see you, ya know.”

  Her forehead crinkles. “I know. I just… can’t right now.”

  “He’s never there. Gabe. So you won’t run into him if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “It’s not.”

  I reach up to scratch the back of my neck. How can I tell her I want her to be around without sounding like a complete perv? The mom excuse could wear her down. It was worth a shot.

  “She misses you.” I miss you.

  A half smile. Okay… getting closer.

  “She wants you to come over for dinner.” I want you to come over.

  A full smile and a huff. Maybe one more to break her.

  The warning bell rings signaling the end of lunch and the start of fourth period. Damn it.

  “I’ll think about it, Brody.”

  I straighten my stance and walk toward the door. “Guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow… in ASL, you know.”

  “Oh! That reminds me.” She crosses the room, an arm’s length away. Her apple scent fills my nostrils, and I gotta swallow the growing spit in my mouth. “Ms. Stevens said she needed to see you. I was supposed to tell you yesterday, but I forgot.”

  “Er, okay.”

  Quynn smiles and blinks. I shake my head trying to free myself from her spell. Before I can mumble anymore incoherencies, I head to class.

  Reason 5: You know how to make a guy feel pretty good about himself

  Turns out I’m about to fail out of sign language. That’s fan-shit-tastic. Ms. Stevens gave me a bunch of extra crap to work on and told me to pay more attention to my signin’ partner ‘cause she knows what she’s doin’. Guess Hayley’s not only my ‘hook-up’ guru… she’s now my tutor.

  Maybe she’ll teach me how to sign ‘shove it up your ass’.

  “Hey Mom?” I shout from the front door. I toss my backpack in but keep my body outside. “I’m going to the library for a bit. That okay?”

  “Yes. Have fun. And take your cell!”

  “I got it.”

  Shutting the door, I pull out my phone to make sure it’s on silent. I think that’s etiquette for the library.

  I’ve got a text from Hayley. My stomach snarls at me, but I chalk it up to lack of food rather than seein’ her name on my phone. Why the hell would that make my gut clench?

  Heya. I’m not home yet. Had to wlk cuz my mom 4got 2 get me. But I’ll txt u when I get there.

  That’s not cool. Mom doesn’t ever want to pick me up so I just take her car. She doesn’t care—most of the time.

  I click ‘reply’ and type as quick as I can, which honestly isn’t very fast.

  Where r u? I’ll come getcha.

  Not two seconds later, her text vibrates in my hand. She’s good at everythin’ I swear.

  Just left school. Don’t worry abt it. I don’t live far.

  I shake my head. I’ll b there in a sec.

  Yeah, she lives a couple blocks away, but it’s freakin’ cold. Not raining, but cold. And she wasn’t wearing a jacket today. At least not that I noticed. Not that I was noticin’ her or anything.

  I’m not normally a speeder. Took one ticket and a week long groundin’ to get me out of that habit. But for some odd reason, thirty miles an hour isn’t goin’ to cut it, and I barrel toward the school at forty.

  Crazy girl thinkin’ she can walk in this stuff and it’s no big deal. I get to the school in record time, but I can’t find Hayley anywhere. What route would she take home?

  Curving through neighborhoods—faster than I should, but oh well—I finally spot her shivering her ass off. She’s huddled over a book, her stuffed bag pulling half her body down, so she looks lopsided.

  She’s smiling though. Cute.

  Gah, there’s that word again. Knock it off, Brody.

  “Hey,” I say out my window as I pull up. “Get in.”

  A wave of relief washes over her face, and my heart does a funky thud-a-thump when she plops into the passenger seat. She smells like mint chocolate brownies and my mouth waters. That’s never happened with anyone but Quynn. Weird.

  “Okay, I-I know I s-said it wasn’t a big deal, b-but oh my gosh, t-thank you.” Her teeth chatter.

  “Here,” I say leaning over and pressing the seat warmer. I’m nearly on top of her before I remember her ‘no touch’ personality. Her sharp intake of breath is all the signal I need to leap back into my seat.

  What’s wrong with me?

  “Eh…” Crap, idiot moment—again.

  She smiles and straps her seatbelt on with shivering fingers, then sticks them under her butt. “Ah,” she sighs, “perfect. Thank you.”

  She’s so good at that. Makin’ things less awkward, but my stomach still feels bunched up. Probably ‘cause of what we’ll be doing today.

  I turn on the radio and cock my eyebrow at her. “What’s your poison?”

  She shivers and shakes her head. “I don’t care. Whatever you want to listen to.”

  I’m not goin’ to mess with it. I draw my hand away from the radio and toward the shifter, trying to look cool as I put the car in drive, flexing my muscles a little more than I would have if I was by myself.

  “Holy mother of a trash load.”

  A large bark of a laugh explodes from my gut. “What?”

  “Look at your arms!” She head nods toward them. “You’re not like on any sports teams and you’re totally muscular.”

  I try not to look too cocky. Or too flushed either. “Thanks, but I was talkin’ about the mother trash load.”

  Her face twists in mock anger. “You’re just jealous of my lingo. Don’t make fun.”

  “I’m not. I think it’s awesomesauce.” I smirk.

  She pulls a hand out from under her to punch me in the arm. “Shut up!”

  Did I like that? Playful punches from Quynn make me feel like I’m about to barf all over her, but Hayley’s punch feels like an achievement—like she’s finally touchin’ me because she wants to.

  A friend punch. That must be it.

  “So, did you need to stop by your house?”

  “Just for a sec. I’d rather not lug this giant bag around.”

  “I’m not useless,” I say, rolling my eyes toward her. “I can carry it for you.”

  She laughs. “Trying to make up for yesterday with the gas can, huh?”

  “Uh…”

  “I’m kidd
ing! But really, I’ll be super fast. You won’t even have to get out of the car.”

  “All right.” I go the speed limit this time through the neighborhood and pull into her driveway.

  She bends to grab her bag, but I beat her to it, twisting the strap around my palm.

  “You’re not carryin’ this anymore. You’re goin’ to break your back.”

  Her hand grasps mine, harder than I would’ve imagined from her. “It’s okay, really. I’ll be two seconds. You can stay here.”

  She attempts a smile, but I’m not buyin’ it. Something’s buggin’ her, but I’m not sure if it’s me or not. Should I give in? I mean, it’s just a stupid bag. Why do I care if she takes it, or if I do?

  “Please?” Her smile twitches as she watches me struggle with my brain.

  “Uh, you sure?”

  “Two seconds.” She unwraps the strap from around my hand and shoulders it. She’s out the door and into her house so quick, I have to blink a couple times and shake my head.

  Fine. I try to be a nice guy, but girls just have to be stubborn about it. Then they complain chivalry is dead. Screw that.

  I rub my hand where she clutched me, the skin full of sparks or somethin’. I shake it trying to get the feeling to go away.

  Well, time to go over the checklist I guess. Not sure why I’m still considering talking about Quynn with someone else, let alone actually being pathetic enough to ask for tips on how to make her mine.

  Ugh. It is pathetic. I should change my mind and tell Hayley to just forget it. We can go to the library and actually… study.

  Blah.

  I slam my head on the steering wheel, and the horn jolts me back into my seat. Whoops. Hopefully she didn’t think I was tryin’ to rush her or anything.

  Someone peeks out behind the curtains in her front window as a whole bunch of muffled dog barks shake the glass. It’s gotta be her mom. She’s older, wearin’ loads of makeup—it’s so bad I can see it from here—and she’s got a look on her face like she’s about to shoot me with a sniper rifle.

  Yeah, I’m not lookin’ at her anymore. The speck on my window is less judgmental. The barks get a little louder for a second, then they muffle again. Before I realize what I’m doing, I get out of the car and open the passenger door like I’m some kind of chauffeur. Hayley turns bright red, but plops down with a small ‘thanks’.