Fat Cat (10 page)

I acted appropriately cool. "Amanda, I really need to get back. I have a lot of homework today."

"Yeah," Greg said, "Jordan says you're a real brain."

I smiled in what I thought was a polite but uninterested way. "Not really. I have to work at it."

Greg folded his big arms over his big chest. "I heard you're really good at math."

"Sort of."

"Come on, Cat," Jordan said. "Stop acting so modest. She's at the top of our class--math, science--"

I noticed Matt out of the corner of my eye, watching us.

"Speaking of math," I said, "I've got about twenty curve sketches to do for Calc. I really have to go."

But that Greg guy couldn't take a hint. "Hey, I heard you used to swim."

I shot Jordan a look. He shrugged innocently. I looked past him to Matt, who was now talking to their coach.

"Bet you were killer," Greg said. "What was your stroke?" "Butter," I mumbled.

Greg grinned. "Hey, me too. Why'd you stop?"

As if that were any of his business! I cleared my throat and subtly pressed my leg against Amanda's.

She understood perfectly. "Sweetie, we should probably get going," she told Jordan. "I promised Cat I'd get her back."

"Okay, I'm just going to rinse off and change," he said.

Greg felt compelled to shake my hand again--what is it with guys? "It was really nice meeting you."

"Yeah," I lied. "You too." I just wanted him to go away. Matt wasn't staring at us anymore, but the whole thing still made me feel really uncomfortable.

"What's going on?" I demanded as soon as Amanda and I were alone. "Was this a trick to make me meet that guy?"

Amanda held up her hand. "I swear. No tricks." She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. "But ... what did you think of him?"

"Not much."

"Not too bad-looking," Amanda said.

"Not interested," I answered firmly.

Matt passed in front of us, still in his Speedo. He didn't look at me, I didn't look at him. He crossed to the far end of the pool and retrieved his towel. Then he passed in front of me again, but this time turned his head just enough to make eye contact.

Which proved I was watching him. Which I instantly fixed by looking away.

I know I was supposed to say, "Good race, Matt," or, "Congratulations," but forget it. I'm sure Matt McKinney is not starving for attention or accolades. He didn't need me to tell him he had just won the race.

"Not bad," Amanda said when Matt was far enough away. "He's filling out nicely. Like the legs."

"Hate the person."

"Well," Amanda agreed, "yeah."

We wandered to the parking lot to wait for Jordan. He and Greg came out together.

For a tense moment, I thought Jordan might try to invite Greg along with us, but to my relief Greg got into his own car and left. But not before saying goodbye to me again.

Goodbye. Now go.

Once we were all safely within Amanda's car, I slumped back against the seat. Then I told Jordan in as nice of a tone as I could muster, "Please don't ever,
ever
do that to me again."

"Do what?"

"You know what."

Jordan sighed. "You know, Cat, someone might like you someday. I mean, someone besides us. Would that be so bad?"

"Yes," I said. "I am a circle of three. No room at the inn."

"What if I told you Greg thinks you're nice?"

"Then I'd say he wasn't paying very close attention."

At least that got a laugh out of both of them.

"I didn't think he was that great," Amanda said, which really surprised me.

But I went with it. "See?"

"What do you mean?" Jordan protested. "He's a solid guy."

"Eh," Amanda said. "Kind of boring."

"He talked to you for about thirty seconds," Jordan said.

"I could tell," Amanda said. "He just didn't strike me as right for our Kit Cat."

I couldn't believe it. Amanda was actually discouraging me from being interested in a guy.

"You're elitist," Jordan said.

"Choosy," Amanda countered. "That's why I'm with you."

The rest of the ride was pretty silent, except for some polite questions about how Jordan's other races had gone. When they dropped me off, they didn't seem all that pleased with each other.

I signed to Amanda,
"Okay?"

She nodded and answered out loud, "He still loves me."

"Elitist," Jordan muttered, but I saw the edges of a smile.

Amanda reached over and squeezed his wrist. Jordan lifted her hand and kissed it. All was well.

"Thanks," I told Amanda as I retrieved my bags. "For the shopping."

"You're welcome. You look great. Doesn't she look great in those pants?"

"The men were going wild," Jordan said. "Too bad you're so coldhearted."

"They'll get over it," I said.

"The whole team?" Jordan asked, smiling.

I knew he was kidding, but still. As soon as they drove off, I went inside and did something I promised myself I wouldn't do.

I weighed myself.

Oh, happy day.

25

Day 40, Monday, September 29

Breakfast:
Oatmeal with raisins, sliced pears, walnuts.

Lunch:
Lentil and barley soup left over from last night (kept it hot in my thermos). (I know hominins didn't have thermoses, but I can't eat that stuff cold. Gag-reflex exception.) Also banana and water.

This morning at breakfast Peter asked me if he could start walking with me to school.

"Okay, I guess, but why?" I asked. "Wouldn't you rather just get a ride with Dad?"

"Nah, I want to walk with you."

How sweet! But it was still my duty to talk him out of it. "I have
to leave a lot earlier than you would. You'd get there about half an hour ahead of the bell."

"That's okay," he said. "Can I?"

How could I refuse?

We didn't really say much for the first few blocks--my little brother's not much of a talker. But then I decided I might as well try to make conversation.

"So, how's school?" I asked.

"Good."

"How's soccer?"

"Good."

"How's life as my waiter?" "Good."

"No complaints?" "Nope."

"Any suggestions?" "Nope."

"Should I make pizza tomorrow night?" "Sure."

Probably not looking at a future as a talk show host, that boy. I decided to delve a little deeper.

"So, tell me the truth--why did you decide to start walking with me all of a sudden?"

Peter acted like he hadn't heard me. He concentrated very hard on the rock he was kicking.

"Hello?" I said. "Speaking to you."

"I dunno," he muttered.

"Well, if you did know, what would it be?"

Peter shrugged. Then he mumbled it so low I could barely hear him. "'Cause I'm fat."

That stopped me cold. "What?"

He shrugged again and kept on kicking his rock.

"Peter, you're not fat. Why would you say that?"

He simply repeated the shrug.

The truth is he isn't fat, exactly, but he does have our dad's build. And mine. And even though the food I've been cooking the past month and a half has definitely dropped a few pounds from everyone, Peter is still pretty stocky.

And it's not like he isn't active--the kid plays soccer twice a week and baseball and football when they're in season--but there's some definite pudge on him, to tell the truth. Not that he isn't still cute, in his way. Plus he's a really nice, considerate kid. There's just nothing wrong with him the way he is.

"You're not fat," I tried again. "You're just big like Dad--we both are."

Peter looked up at me. "No, you're not. You've gotten skinnier."

"Yeah, I guess a little."

"No," he insisted, "a lot. You look better."

"Well, thanks ... I guess."

We walked in silence for a while, then he added, "I want to look like you."

"Peter--" What was I supposed to say? I stopped and gave his shoulder a little squeeze. "You're very cute--Amanda says so all the time. You'd be cute whether you lost weight or not."

"Trina said I'm fat."

Okay,
now
we were getting somewhere. And that somewhere was a place I was all too familiar with. My voice suddenly got hard. "Who's Trina?"

"Forget it," Peter said. "See ya." Then he took off and ran the last few blocks to his school.

I stood there and stared after him. Such a cute boy--what's some mean, horrible girl doing telling my little brother he's fat? Where does she get off?

I hardly ever have violent thoughts, but right at that moment I could have dished out some serious big-sister whomping. Trina, you little witch. I
hate
kids like that. Mean, snotty, cruel. A kid like that can ruin your whole life.

I ought to know.

26

T
oday was my second appointment with Jackie
. And for once in my life I was actually pretty psyched about the weigh-in.

"Nice work," Jackie said, reading off the number. "How are you feeling these days?"

"Great!" I may have said it a little too enthusiastically. I was just so happy about the scale.

"How are the cravings?"

"Much better," I said. "I mean, I'd still love a Butterfinger every now and then, but it really has gotten easier."

"I'm glad," Jackie said. "And do you see how your skin has cleared up?"

It's true. Almost all my acne is gone. It's really amazing.

We went over what I've been eating lately, and Jackie made a few suggestions, and then our time was up. Since she's seeing me as a favor to my mom, she's just squeezing me in when she can.

I left her office feeling happier than I have in a long time.
Because the best thing isn't even the fact that I'm definitely losing weight--although trust me, that's fantastic.

The best thing is how different I feel. Before I started the project--back in my caffeine and potato chip and sugar days--I'd have these horrible afternoon slumps when I just wanted to lay my head down in class and take a nap. And I just felt ... squishy. Slow and lumpy and lethargic.

I had no idea that this project would make me feel so much better. It's like I've finally drained off all the sludge in my body, and now I'm all light and energetic.

I can sympathize with Peter. And now that I know the real reason, I don't mind at all if he wants to tag along. If my little brother wants to remake himself and feel better like this, I'm happy to give him some help.

Not--let me be clear--to impress some girl, but for himself. In fact, I hope once he feels better he'll realize this Trina girl is just a little snot and he shouldn't even care what she thinks.

It's finally starting to feel a little bit like fall here. It was cold and windy as Peter and I walked to school this morning. I stopped by the bathroom before my first class and couldn't help noticing how nice my face looked--cheeks rosy from the wind, eyes bright. I think I looked better this morning than I ever have with makeup. Even my lips had some color on them, and it wasn't from gloss.

I don't mean to be vain, but this is a scientific experiment, and I am required to make observations: I look good. Not great, not perfect, but definitely better than six weeks ago.

Thank goodness I ended up with a picture of naked hominins instead of beetles or black holes or something useless like that. Otherwise who knows what my life would be like right now?

27

A
manda was waiting at my house
when I got home from work.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

She wouldn't answer until we were safely in my room.

"Jordan's car is still acting up, so I had to take him to practice today. And Greg was there."

"Yeah, so?"

"So, he was asking about you. I think maybe you should give him a shot."

"Wait a minute--you said he wasn't good enough for me, remember? You said he seemed kind of boring, as I recall."

"Yeah, but I heard him talk a little more today, and maybe he's not so bad."

"'Not so bad,' huh?" I said. "A really glowing recommendation." "Anyway, I gave him your phone number."

"Amanda!"

"What? He's entitled to call."

"Since when?"

"Since he said lots of nice things about you, like how pretty he thinks you are."

That sort of brought me up short, but still.

"I do
not
want him calling me," I said. "I won't talk to him."

"I think he might be okay. And Jordan certainly thinks so."

"First of all," I said, "I don't have time for any of this. Do you not understand my course load this semester? Second, I don't even like the guy--"

"You only talked to him for two minutes."

"On purpose," I said. "Third, you already said he isn't right for me, and we both know I have nothing in common with him."

Amanda sighed. "Cat, I just think it's time, you know?"

"Time for what?"

"To test the waters a little. You've got this slinky little bod now--"

I chuffed. "Hardly."

"And you'd better get used to boys noticing."

"I'm not interested," I said.

"He said he's going to call you."

"Too bad--hominins don't use the phone."

28

H
e did call
. He waited a day and then called me last night. I asked my mother to take a message. It didn't matter--he found me at lunch today anyway.

"Hey."

Amanda kicked me under the table. "Hey," she answered Greg.

Jordan shook his hand. I just don't get that. Girls never shake hands.

"Hey, Cat," Greg said.

I gave him a quick nod and pulled out my chemistry notes from this morning. My face felt hot. My pulse decided to skip around.

I never talk to guys. Other than Jordan, I never have to.

"Have a seat," Jordan said, and I shot him a look, but he either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I didn't know you had this lunch," Amanda said.