Puddin'(39)

“Y’all are so cute. And you asked him to the Sadie Hawkins with your ukulele! What could possibly be wrong with y’all?”

“Well, that’s sort of the problem,” I say. “There is no ‘y’all.’”

“Ohhhhhh.” She lies down from the other side of the bed, so that our heads are side by side, her golden curls spilling out and tickling my shoulders. Before this year, I spent a lot of time wishing I could be Willowdean. It’s like she never has to overthink or try too hard.

“Malik and I talk almost every night,” I tell her. “And during the day at school it’s like . . . he’s nice, but it’s like all those in-depth conversations we have at night never even happened.” I let myself pout. “I’m just ready for something to happen already. I mentioned it to Callie, and she thinks I should just make my move, but . . . but she . . .”

“She’s skinny?” Willowdean asks, attempting to fill in the blank. “Well, I have a feeling boys have never been an issue for Callie. And not to say that they have for you, but it’s different.”

“I get it. Boy, do I get it.”

She turns her head toward me. “But Callie’s awful. You know that, right? She is not to be trusted. You’re too good to people, Millie. You put too much faith in people who don’t deserve it.”

I roll my eyes. “She’s not that bad.”

She huffs. “But in this one case, she might not be so off the mark. You know Malik likes you, right? All the signs are there.”

I nod. Except . . . I’m scared to even think it, but what if Malik is so different in person because he doesn’t want to admit he likes a fat girl? Maybe he just needs a little push.”

“You know, me and Bo . . . things didn’t start out so good at first. But there came a time when he put it all out there. He wasn’t pushy or rude, but he knew what he wanted and he was pretty sure I wanted it, too. But if it had been up to me to make that first move . . . well, we might still be having angry make-out sessions behind the Dumpsters.”

I wrinkle my nose.

“I gotta tell you,” she says. “Once you’re in the heat of the moment, the smell sort of goes away.”

I chuckle. “So is it true what Ellen said the other night? About you and Bo?” I glance back to the door to make sure it’s shut all the way and double-check that the record is still playing. “Having sex?” I whisper.

Her cheeks turn an alarming shade of pink and her hands fly up to cover her face. “No. Yes. Yes, yes, yes!”

I squeal to let her know I’m just thrilled for her, but inside I’m doing everything I can not to put myself in her shoes, because that’s flat-out terrifying.

“I just . . . Millie, you can’t tell anyone this—oh my God. I can’t believe I’m talking about sex with Millicent Michalchuk.”

My eyes widen. “Honestly, I can’t believe it either.”

She laughs. “The thing is . . . and I don’t even know how to talk about this with Ellen. It’s taken a lot for me to feel okay with Bo touching me. Especially in places that remind me that I am definitely fat. That probably sounds weird.”

“No.” My voice comes out like a sigh. “That’s not weird at all.” I roll onto my side and prop myself up on my elbow. She’s got my undivided attention.

“Now that I’m sort of over that . . . honestly, though, some days I am and some days I’m not. But I guess what I’m saying is, I want him to touch me and anytime I don’t it’s because of me and not him. Except now I have to think about him seeing me naked and—” She covers her face again.

I think for a long time. I think about the exact thing I would want someone else to say to me in this moment. “Willowdean, I know you’re fat. We all know it. Ellen does. So do Hannah and Amanda. And Bo does, too. You’re the same person you are with your clothes on as you are with them off. If you want to have sex—if you’re ready for that, and the only thing holding you back is the thought of yourself naked . . . well, if I had to guess, every person in the history of sex has had that same thought.”

She shakes her head. “And I’m the one who invited you over to give you boy advice. You obviously don’t need me.”

Except I do. I need Willowdean so much. Because if I ever feel like I need permission to do something that people in my body aren’t meant to do, I just look to Willowdean. She’s all the reminder I need that the only person who can give you permission to live life and to live it big is yourself.

“Oh, I need you,” I tell her. “I need you like Oprah needs Gayle.”





Callie


Sixteen


Maybe there is a God. I’m not really doing a very good job of praying to Him (or Her?), because on Thursday morning during Anatomy, I experience nothing short of a miracle when Ms. Santana hands me a note from the attendance office.

I unfold the note in my lap.

Had to leave early today and take Kyla to the doctor’s. Her fever is back and the school nurse won’t keep her in the infirmary again. You have my permission to get a ride home from Bryce, but that is it. A single car ride! School and home! That’s it! I swear, Callie, if I hear you left early or pulled some kind of hijinks, you will see my wrath. And if you think this is my wrath, this is only the warm-up, baby. Be safe. Wear your seat belt. I love you.