Sweet by Emmy Laybourne Page B

harsh.
    â€œShe’s going to take it at lunch, right, Laurel?”
    â€œI don’t know—”
    â€œYou could up the doses, just a bit,” the lady says.
    She pats me on the butt.
    â€œYou’ve got some tub to lose.”
    She wrinkles her nose.
    â€œSolu will just nip away the extra, you’ll see.”
    Viv bundles me out into the hall.
    â€œThirteen pounds!” she marvels.
    â€œâ€˜Nip away the extra,’” I say. “I hate that woman. She called me tubby.”
    â€œLaur! Thirteen pounds.”
    â€œI’m a failure because I didn’t drop a bunch of weight?”
    â€œShe just wants you to get to feel what everyone’s feeling!” Viv says.
    â€œMaybe I’m happy the way I am! Maybe I don’t want to feel what everyone’s feeling,” I grump.
    â€œLaurel!”
    â€œWell, I don’t!”
    â€œNo, of course, why would you?” Viv says.
    She crosses her arms.
    â€œLaurel Willard is not like anyone else. She’s different.”
    I do not like the tone her voice is taking.
    â€œShe has to practice her classical guitar. She always wears boots even when it’s not appropriate. The cutest guy ever invented wants to get to know her, but she won’t have him. No, she’s above it all. She’s soooo superior.”
    â€œYou’re being a jerk,” I tell my best friend.
    â€œDitto,” she says. “Maybe you hold yourself apart like you do because you’re a big, fat chicken. No, I correct myself, a perfect-the-way-she-is chicken, who doesn’t even want to lose weight.”
    â€œYou’re just mad because I don’t want to try Solu,” I say.
    Two women in the hall look at me with shock, not because I’m yelling, I don’t think. It’s because I don’t want to try Solu!
    â€œNo,” she yells back. “I’m mad because you weren’t even excited for me. Not even a little!”
    â€œI don’t think you’re fat, Viv. I don’t think either of us is fat. I think that we look perfectly normal. Why do we have to be thinner, thinner, thinner all the time?”
    â€œBecause when people see this,” Viv says, grabbing her belly, “they see weakness. And I don’t want to be seen as weak.”
    â€œThat’s not true!” I tell her. “That’s not what I think when I see someone’s belly—”
    â€œWell, it’s what I think,” Viv says. And I see her eyes flash to my gut.
    That hurts.
    This is an area we don’t venture into—it’s an unspoken agreement in our friendship. I allow her to obsess about her extra fifteen pounds, and we never mention mine.
    â€œWell, I don’t care how people see me,” I say, my eyes prickling with tears.
    â€œI don’t believe that for a second,” my best friend hisses at me. “All your weirdo choices are designed to make people see you as an outsider. You’re scared to fit in.”
    *   *   *
    I go back to our room. I practice the Bach until my fingertips are screaming.
    All the while I’m thinking about Viv and what she said.
    At first, I’m just mad. How dare she blah blah blah.
    But the thing about Viv is, she knows me.
    And as I run the piece, I realize maybe she’s right about me. About some of it, anyway.
    I really don’t mind my extra weight. I really think I look just fine.
    But the stuff about dressing weird and not fitting in …
    *   *   *
    Around five the PA comes on. I’m expecting a message from Lorna Krieger about shuffleboard or something, but it’s not.
    â€œGood afternoon, guests. This is Captain Hammonds. I’m pleased to announce that Dr. Zhang has just informed the bridge that as of three fifty-five p.m. this afternoon, the ship as a whole has met its first weight-loss goal. The passengers of the famous Solu Cruise to Lose have lost a combined average of