If I didn’t, he’d stare me down again. My exhaled stream of breath came out long and low. Why not? “I had this friend, Zoe
Zarlengo….”
It wasn’t nearly as difficult to tell the story the second time. Of course, he got an abbreviated version. I didn’t reveal
names or dates or places. Nothing incriminating. Nothing important. Nothing deep down.
“It’s very hard to lose a friend,” Dr. Sid said at the end.
“Especially a best friend. I mean, I had Petey, but he died on Halloween.”
Dr. Sid’s eyes widened.
“He was my hamster.”
“Ah.” He looked relieved. “I imagine you loved your hamster.”
“Yeah, I did,” I said. “Even though he was just a hamster, I had him since I was nine.”
“So you lost two friends in one year.”
I nodded. “And the only other person I was ever close to was my sister, and she flipped out last summer.” Oh, my God! It all
made sense. That summer after Zoe left, Vanessa started losing touch. Not just with the world; with me, too. Then Petey died.
Zoe, Vanessa, then Petey. All gone. “You’re good,” I said to Dr. Sid.
“Excuse me?”
“Three friends,” I said. “I lost three friends in one year. I mean, that’s enough to create a void in anyone’s life, isn’t
it?”
“Definitely. So you believe your void is a lack of friends?”
“Oh, no. I have friends. I mean, I do now. Three friends.” Which was kind of ironic, wasn’t it? “Hey, I think my void is filled,”
I said, standing. “I guess I’m cured.”
He clapped his hands together. “Wonderful. Perhaps we need to talk a little more. Would you mind?” He indicated the chair.
“Do you give out lollipops at the end?”
“What?”
“Nothing. I guess since you don’t have anyone else’s life to save for an hour.” I shrugged and sat back down.
“Now,” he said, leaning forward over the desk, “let us go back a minute. You say your sister flipped out. What do you mean
she flipped out?”
I cozied down into the soft leather upholstery. This was going to be an extended session.
Afterward, Mom met me in the waiting room. “So, how’d it go?” she said.
I slipped into my backpack. “Good.”
She gave me that look—you know, details? As we walked to the elevator, she asked, “What’d you tell him?”
I smiled at Mom. “Everything. Next week he wants to meet with Vanessa.”
“Y
ou know, making us get weighed in public is psychologically damaging. We’re very sensitive about our bodies at this age. And
I should know. My mother’s—”
“Her mother’s a child psychologist,” I finished for Lydia. “Believe what she says.”
Droopy Dietz sighed. “Is there anything about life that isn’t psychologically damaging?” He looked at Lydia. “Don’t answer
that. Okay, if it’ll reduce the mental anguish, I’ll move the scale into the office. But people, I need to get your heights
and weights for the next phase of the fitness test.”
As we herded toward the office door, I inched my way to the back. Talk about mental anguish. The last time I’d weighed myself
I experienced one of Vanessa’s psychotic episodes. Dizziness over the digital readout.
Prairie said, “At least you’re t-taller than me. And my prosthesis weighs a t-ton.”
“Thanks, Prairie.” I smiled meekly. Wish I had something to blame my tonnage on.
Ahead of us, Ashley stomped out of the office. “The scale’s broken,” I heard her say to Fayola. “It weighs at least five pounds
heavy.”
“Oh, great,” I muttered. That’d put me over the top. That’d jam the works.
Sweat was streaming down my sweats by the time my turn came. Terlitz the Terminator, who was doing the honors, asked my full
name and birth date. I was tempted to give him false information, but prior consequences with fake names nixed that notion.
“Okay, step up onto the scale,” he ordered.
I did, then jumped off. “Wait,” I said. I kicked off my shoes and peeled away my socks. Tiptoeing back on, I exhaled my last
breath. “Okay. Shoot.”
He adjusted the little metal indicator. Up, up, down a notch. No warning sirens sounded. Terlitz scribbled on the form attached
to his clipboard. “That’s it,” he said. “Get down.”
That’s it?
Here’s where you’re going to confirm your suspicion about my sanity, or lack thereof. Here’s where you’re going to agree with
my mother that I do indeed need professional help.
I said, “So, how much do I weigh?”
He pursed his skinny lips at me. “You really want to know?”
No, I want Ashley Krupps to know so her father can announce it to the whole friggin’ school. I shrugged. “Why not?”
He showed me the form. My kneecaps disintegrated. When I stumbled out, the Squad waited in the wings. Lydia grabbed my arm.
“Jenny, are you okay? You’re white as a ghost.”
Ghost. That was a good word. I was a ghost. A ghost of my former self. “I lost six pounds,” I said.
“All right!” Max held up a palm and I smacked it.
“P-plus five,” Prairie said, “if Ashley’s right about the s-scale.”
Hey, yeah. I decided to believe Ashley Krupps was telling the truth, just this once. Eleven pounds. “I don’t know how this
happened,” I said, slowly shaking my head.
“I do,” Lydia said. “You’ve been sharing all your candy with us—that’s how.”
I looked at her. She might be right.
“Okay, folks, I have a few announcements,” Mr. Dietz said. “Could we rally round?”
In slo-mo we all shuffled over to the tumbling mats. “First,” he said, “I have the results of the relay races.” He consulted
his sheet.
We all zoned out, or at least I did.
“Best overall time, the Oakland Raiders.” I applauded, to be polite. I wished it’d been Kevin Rooney’s team since I’m deeply
in love with him. He came in second. “Worst overall time,” Mr. Dietz paused. He caught Lydia’s eye and sighed.
Oh, great, I thought. More public humiliation. More suffering, more defeat…
“The Neon Nikes.”
There was a loud intake of breath in front of us. Ashley wailed, “That’s impossible!”
“ ’Fraid not,” Dietz said. “You girls missed two races. I had to give you zeroes. I don’t know what was so all-fire interesting
up there in the bleachers, but I didn’t think it was my responsibility to come up and drag you down for your heats.”
“They were probably plotting to get us,” I whispered to Max. She smirked. Lydia heard and snickered.
“And you kept dropping the baton, too,” Melanie said to Ashley.
“I did not.”
“Did, too. And you never let me run the last leg. I’m the fastest,” Fayola said.
“You are not!”
“She is, too,” Rachel jumped in.
“That’s enough,” Dietz cut them off. “You’ll have a chance to make it up in this next phase. And, let’s see. Most improved
time: the Snob Squad.”
“What!” we all cried together.
“Yes,” Max cheered. We high-fived.
I couldn’t believe it. Then I could. I mean, we started out as slow as Saskatchewan. Where is Saskatchewan? Canada, right?
Anyway, with Max’s encouragement (or threat of execution by the Crips), we must’ve picked up speed.
“The next phase will be strength building,” the Dietzman said. “You can work in your same teams.”
Melanie raised her hand. “Do we have to? I don’t want to be on Ashley’s team anymore,” she said.
Rachel said, “Neither do I.”
Ashley slashed them dead with machete eyes. She turned the fire on Fayola. Fayola said quickly, “I think we should switch.
Mix up the teams.”
I raised my hand. “I think we should keep the same teams. It’ll be a lot easier to keep track of, paperwise.”
The idea appealed to our gym teacher, you could tell. “You’re right,” he said. “We’ll keep the same teams.”
Max and Prairie smacked palms. “Wait a minute.” Lydia waved her hand in the air. “I think we should change.”
I looked at Lydia. My spirits sagged. I thought for sure she was with us, that she’d made the right choice.
She said, “I think we should keep the same teams but be allowed to change leaders. We want our team leader to be Jenny Solano.”
My face flared a fire stick.
“Sure, sure. That’d be fine,” Dietz said. “Can we get started now?”
“When did you decide this?” I whispered while Dietz droned on about how to use the weight training equipment without injuring
ourselves or others.
“While you were in g-getting weighed,” Prairie said.
“It was unanimous.” Lydia smiled. I looked at Max. She slugged my shoulder. Good thing I still had some fat reserves left.
Leader? Me? Suddenly I felt different. Changed. As if the old me had died and a new me had been born. A vision materialized
in my mind. The Death card. Maybe this is what Max meant by a change of consciousness. A death and a rebirth.
“Jenny, snap out of it.” Lydia snapped her fingers in front of my face.
“Must be the concussion,” Max said.
“P-permanent brain damage.”
“You guys.” I waved them away. “All right, as your newly elected commander-in-chief, my first duty is to inform you that Sunday
is my birthday. You are all invited over Saturday night for a sleep-over. That’s an order, not a request.”
Max clicked her army boots together and saluted. “Yessuh.”
Prairie and Lydia saluted, too. That made us all collapse into hyena hysterics. Ashley stormed past and snapped, “Shut up.”
We all did the Snob Squad salute, finger to nose to Ashley. She just sneered and stomped away toward the principal’s office.
Strange. I didn’t hate Ashley Krupps anymore. At least not as much as I used to. I felt kind of sorry for her, if you want
to know the truth. Ashley was just being Ashley. I forgave her for that. Someday I might even forget.
My last thought, before the whole class got put on notice was, This is going to be the best birthday I’ve ever had. Between
the four of us, we might eat enough cake to fill my void. To fill all our voids. Yes, I thought. Mow down misery, snuff out
suffering, laugh at loss, defy defeat. Next year was going to be better. Sweet, as Lydia would say. Isn’t that how revenge
is supposed to taste?