Skinny(27)

“He forgot his homework.” They both laugh. I don’t get the joke.

“What was the excuse this time?” Rat asks.

“He left his bedroom window open last night, and the wind blew it outside. When he tried to climb up the tree to get it back, he fell and sprained his ankle. Spent the rest of the night in the ER.”

“Was he limping?”

“Of course. He always has the supporting details right. Even had his ankle all wrapped up.”

“Creative,” Rat says, smiling broadly.

“Always,” Briella agrees, still texting.

“What happened to the paper?”

Hey, I’m watching a movie here. Who knew Rat was suddenly going to turn into Chatty Cathy? I make a huffing sound, but they don’t stop.

“Claimed it was still in the tree last time he checked.”

I look back and forth at them. They are talking like old friends. When did this happen? I frown and sit back down on my side of the couch. No one pays any attention to me. I stare at the television and watch Renée Zellweger sing “My Own Best Friend,” but I don’t really hear it.

“He likes her better than you. You think he’s your best friend, but it only lasts until someone skinnier and prettier walks into the room.” Skinny’s voice in my ear is so loud I can’t hear the music.

“You’re lucky you don’t have to go to school, Ever.” Briella puts her long tanned legs up on the coffee table and her short blue-jean skirt rides up on her thighs. Rat notices. How could he not? Funny. I don’t feel so lucky right now.

“Did you get your essay back?” Rat asks her.

“Yeah. I made a C.”

“Congratulations.” Rat gives her a sideways high five.

“If I can pull a B on the final I might get out of summer school.”

“I can help you study if you want.” He says it so casually; I almost wouldn’t know how much he was counting on her response. Almost.

“Sure,” she says. Standing up, she swings her hair over her shoulder and heads toward the stairs. “That’d be great.”

“I can help you study if you want,” I repeat in a snarky voice under my breath.

“What?” Rat looks over at me innocently.

“How can someone so big be so invisible?” Skinny asks.





Chapter Ten





Rat and I stare up at the chart he’s just finished tacking up on my bedroom wall. It was actually his idea to put the playlist column on the chart. I’ve always said it’d be great if we could hear the soundtrack of our lives playing in the background. He remembered.

“Isn’t that the song the lady from England sang on that reality talent show?” Rat asks. I can see his back muscles working through the thin material of his faded red T-shirt as he writes the words on the chart. When did Rat get muscles?

“What?”

“The song from Les Misérables.” He points at the chart, and I notice his hands. My hands have always been the only tiny thing about me. If my hand was in his, my fingers would barely reach his knuckles. But it isn’t. I blink to clear my head. The lack of calories must be affecting more than just my weight.

“Didn’t I hear it on the radio?”

“Unfortunately,” I say. “Many people don’t even know the song comes from Les Misérables, one of the most famous and most performed musicals worldwide. It’s the only song that actually made the charts from the musical just because of that woman singing it on Britain’s Got Talent.”

“But it’s getting better, right?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Your mood. Last week we were at the point of no return, going into the depths of the opera house, following the phantom, a vicious murderer. If that was any indication of your mind-set, it couldn’t have been good. This week we’re dreaming a dream. I figure, it’s got to be better.”

I’m surprised he remembers so much about The Phantom. I thought he was reading some physics textbook when I was watching it on DVD. Three times.

“Les Misérables is set in nineteenth-century revolutionary France,” I say. “ ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ is sung by Fantine who had bright hopes for love and life until reality took over, and her life became worse than she had ever imagined. When you actually listen to the words it’s all about lost hope.”

“Your music choices are depressing,” Rat says.

“It’s my soundtrack,” I say. Yesterday an ad for Burger King came on the TV, and I started to cry. Who cries over a hamburger commercial? I just want to believe someday I can actually eat a hamburger again. I grieve the loss of hamburgers and ice cream and M&M’s. Lost hope. What have I done to myself?