Blob by Frieda Wishinsky

“I never forget a face, but in your case I’ll be glad to make an exception.”
    â€”Groucho Marks
    chapter one
    It’s the first day of school and my heart is pounding. It always pounds on the first day, but this year is worse. We moved to a new neighborhood this summer, and I’m starting high school. I know almost no one at South View High—except Sarah.
    I’m glad she’ll be there. I’ve known her since grade three. She was away in California this summer, but we spoke on the phone last week. She’s as nervous about high school as I am.
    I hurry toward the red brick building. Phew! Sarah is standing on the top step talking to Zoe Campbell. I didn’t know Zoe was going to South View. Zoe towers over Sarah. Zoe used to be short. I can’t believe how much she grew over the summer.
    I’m almost at the bottom step. I’m about to call out to Sarah and tell her to wait up. Before I can say a word, I hear Zoe. “Are you still friends with Eve?” Her words blast out.
    What? I stop walking. Why is Zoe talking about me? Why is she talking so loudly that all the kids rushing into school can hear?
    Sarah nods.
    â€œI saw Eve on the street this summer,” says Zoe. “She’s gotten so fat. She looks like a blob.”
    I feel like a herd of horses are stomping through my chest. I want to turn and run, but my feet are glued to the pavement.
    â€œShe’s just a little overweight,” says Sarah.
    â€œHave you seen her gut? It jiggles like jelly. She must have hit on every candy bar in the city. I’d be embarrassed to be seen with her.” Zoe tosses her long brown hair.
    â€œI’m not embarrassed.” Sarah’s voice is shaky and uncertain.
    I want to shout, Sarah! This is me you’re talking about. Me! Eve! Your friend. Tell Zoe I’m not a blob. Tell her I’m your friend, and you don’t care what she says.
    But Sarah says nothing. Kids pass me up the stairs and into the building.
    I watch Sarah and Zoe walk into school as the bell rings.
    Blob! The word hammers through my head. Blob. Blob. Blob.
    I know I’ve gained weight this summer. Almost none of my clothes fit me anymore. I’m wearing a pair of jeans that were loose last year. Now I can barely zip them up. And I can’t button the top button. I’ve used a safety pin instead.
    My dad’s big shirts cover my bulging middle, but he’s complaining that he has nothing to wear. I’ve been taking all his good shirts.
    It was that dumb job at the convenience store. Every time the owner barked at me, I ate. She barked all the time, so I ate all the time. I ate cookies, pretzels, potato chips and ice cream. A double chocolate cone always cheers me up.
    Now I’m fat and I’m going to be the butt of Zoe’s jokes. Why does she have to go to this school? Why is she being snarky about me? What did I ever do to her?
    And what’s with Sarah? It looks like I can’t count on her to stand up for me.
    Why did I let myself snack all summer? If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t look like this. Then Zoe couldn’t call me a blob.
    The bell rings again. I know I have to go in, but I can’t move. If I don’t run, I’m going to be late. Then everyone will stare at me when I walk into class.
    I force my feet to move. I dash into the building. Now I’m sweating. My armpits are getting so damp little ponds are forming. I race down the hall and sweat drips from my face. I dab at it with a crumpled tissue. I hope I don’t smell as sweaty as I feel.
    I fly into room eight, my new homeroom.
    I spy Sarah sitting in the third row, and I slide in beside her. She gives me a half smile. I take a deep breath. Calm down, I tell myself. She’s still your friend.
    That’s when I see the note. Sarah tries to shove it into her English book, but I read it before she hides it. It’s written in big black letters.
    No one wants to hang