Corby
Blurb
Corby Mackentile is a fifteen-year-old girl who goes to private school and has been bullied because of her weight since she was twelve. Her parents, her mother is a TV anchor and her father is a Buddhist who owns a butcher shop, are too busy with their own problems to pay attention to their only daughter. Corby has a crush on one of the most popular boys in school, who mocks her once and then unexpectedly apologizes. From that moment the situation with three popular girls becomes worse. Then one day, one of the girls who bullied her comes to Corby’s father’s butcher shop where she works after school and confronts her about her weight. After that, everything changes.
CHAPTER 1
Something hit the back of her head and then a crumpled piece of paper rolled across the desk and fell to the floor. Someone chuckled behind Corby’s back and, as always, Mrs. Gullen didn’t notice, or didn’t want to see. She always ignored the fact that kids in school didn’t like the best student in her class, Corby Mackentile. They all disliked her in spite of her achievements and the title of “gifted.” At fifteen years old, Corby guessed it had happened in part because of her mother, an anchor at a local Boston TV news channel. Mother answered all of Corby’s complaints with one statement—they were all just jealous. Mostly the reason was Corby’s weight. She was a big girl when she was born, but when most kids’ weight would start to go down with age, Corby gained more. She was overweight and tall. One of those kids you see on TV shows like America’s in Danger or Overweight America or in competitions like The Biggest Loser. Her classmates often advised her to try the last one. They also told her that fruit and vegetables “didn’t kill nobody” and she should try to eat some, not just meat. They told her that sport was the best friend of fat people.
Mother tried to put her on different diets suitable for children, but Corby didn’t lose weight. Of course it was difficult to lose weight when Mother’s “trying” to put her on a diet consisted only of words rather than control of what went to their table and specifically on her daughter’s plate. The daughter ate everything she received without arguing with her mother or trying to lose weight. She couldn’t stop eating her favorite foods voluntarily. She couldn’t give up pizza, pasta, and sweets. In that case, there would be no reason to live.
She didn’t have problems in elementary school and was always surrounded by friends. Sometimes she was even the life of the party. She enjoyed amusing her friends, organizing games, and helping with homework. She was always invited to birthday parties and her mom wrote at least ten invitations to Corby’s own birthday party. The problems began in middle school and intensified in high school with the arrival of a beautiful girl, Jane, who once called Corby a box of meat and refused to talk to her. When it happened the first time, Corby was taken aback and began to cry. One of her friends, whose parents moved to another state a year later along with their daughter, asked why Corby said nothing in response and Corby said she didn’t want to be rude. That was true. Also true was the fact that she was afraid. Nobody had ever called her names before and she had never had to stand up for herself. Then it became the norm and it seemed that children started to forget Corby was their friend and that she was happy. Corby herself started to forget about it as if it had never existed. Later, Jane became one of the most popular girls in her school and Corby had to sit at the back of the room and keep her mouth shut in order to stay away from insult. Over time, students pushed her to the front row and for Corby it was torture, because she never knew what was going on behind her back.
A box of meat was a very insulting nickname and Jane didn’t even know at that time that Corby’s father owned the most popular local butcher’s shop. When she heard about it, her joke received the title of legendary. Corby couldn’t imagine what Jane would say if she knew about Mr. Mackentile being a vegetarian despite his possession of the shop and about him adopting a new religion—Buddhism.
Yes, Corby had forgotten how it felt when she had friends and when they listened to her opinion, when no one laughed at her. It seemed so long ago in her short life. Now, she was always alone. Even at home. A TV and books saved her from crying every day. She watched all the shows on Disney Channel and Nickelodeon, laughing at all the jokes, even when they were not funny. There she didn’t see any fat, unfortunate girls who weren’t loved by anyone, including their parents. Corby was sure that nothing would have changed for her father and mother if she didn’t exist. It would be even better for her mom, more convenient. She would spend all her time and money only on herself and wouldn’t complain about the lack of both.
“Mackentile!”
Corby flinched and looked at the teacher.
“Are you all right?” the woman asked.
Corby didn’t have time to respond. She was always slow to answer any question not knowing what would happen, ashamed of her voice and her body. She just wanted to sit at her desk and be invisible.
“She’s on the pad!”
The girls gasped, there was a slap, but all the boys laughed. Jacob Glasgow could say anything and get away with it. His parents were rich as far as Corby knew and she didn’t know much about him, but she had eyes and she saw that he was one of the most handsome boys in her school. Corby had never seen his father, but his mother was a tall, athletic blonde and Jacob didn’t look much like her. She remembered her thoughts when she saw his mother for the first time. The eyes of her classmate were the same as his mother’s—big and blue. He played on her school’s football team. He was captain last year, but resigned this year. Corby liked him, and so did half of the girls in her school. However, he didn’t date any of them because he had been dating someone from a different school. So she had overheard.
“Glasgow, I would love to hear you answering literature questions so wittily.”
“I could, Mrs. Gullen, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t like it.”
“How would you like to talk to the principal?”
“You know, Mrs. Gullen, no one ever benefited from that course of action.”
“I wouldn’t say that. An hour without you in class and I would give my students more information than in a week with you.”
“All info you give we can find on the Internet.”
“Then perhaps you will say that to your mother so she will take you out of school and you can continue getting your education through the Internet.”
“Maybe I will. I don’t think the principal would like that.”
“Okay, too much time wasted on arguments.” Mrs. Gullen turned to the board. “Let’s continue our discussion of Shakespeare.”
Corby followed the conversation and wondered again how teachers swallowed their pride and allowed students to win an argument. Only because of money. All the power was in money. If her parents had as much money as Glasgow’s, would others laugh at her? She doubted it. But she could never become rich, even though her father was selling the meat he hated. However, there was a huge benefit from this argument. Everyone had forgotten about Corby and she became invisible again. Let them debate, even brag about money, only leave her alone. She didn’t worry that this joke would continue. At fifteen, a joke about a period was stupid and Glasgow certainly understood that. Besides, Jane or any other girl wouldn’t be interested in making fun of Corby with that subject. Corby could still expect surprises.
Recess came quickly, but Corby didn’t hurry to collect her bag. She did everything slowly, so she could be the last one to leave or enter. No one should be behind her to push her, to call her names, or to laugh at her. A strategy of survival for a bullied kid.
She waited until the last student disappeared out the door and then went out herself. She passed through the hallway successfully and went to the cafeteria to eat her lunch out of a box, which was sold in the store and even included juice. Her mother said those boxes were her life savers. Corby hated them, but didn’t complain. At least she got that. Sandwiches from her father’s store were nice, but she was sick of them. The same ones for years. She could buy food in the cafeteria, but it meant she would have to stand side by side with other students, listen to their rude comments, and listen to discussions about what she put on her tray. Corby quit doing that about six months ago and started bringing her food from home. She usually sat at the farthest table outside if the weather was appropriate or in the cafeteria when it was cold, took out her hated but nerve saving box or a sandwich and ate her lunch while looking at anything she could find interesting on the Internet on her phone. She did everything possible so that no one paid attention to her, so that no one noticed her. She didn’t always succeed. Someone always wanted to earn more points to his or her popularity at Corby’s expense. It was so easy.
Today she failed to be invisible. As soon as Corby prepared to eat, Jane and her clique sat down on the bench across from her with their trays from the cafeteria.
Jane, Sylvia and Vera.
Corby thought that Sylvia and Vera became popular in high school due to their breast size and height. She started developing breasts at thirteen, but she was shy of this sign of adolescence and never took off her baggy T-shirts or sweaters that covered her body, but Sylvia and Vera exposed every gift from Mother Nature. It wasn’t like they’d been very generously endowed, but they were able to emphasize what they got and it contributed to their popularity among the boys. When Jane appeared in their school, Corby realized that not everything depended on breast size and long legs. Jane was a small, flat-chested brunette with big blue eyes. On her second day in school, she got into a fight with Sylvia because of the place at the table. The popular girls were not yet ready to let her sit with them, but she earned respect and a place simultaneously and on the same day. Then it turned out that she had a black belt in karate, took some prizes in ballroom dancing, and her dad was the owner of two popular bars in Boston. On the same second day, she noticed Corby and set up the rules. Sylvia and Vera, both, talked to Corby before and had never said anything offensive or insulting. On this day, they laughed at her when Jane called Corby a box of meat. She did it casually, just passing by. Later, Sylvia and Vera started following Jane, recognizing her leadership, and they did whatever she said.
Today Jane had on blue jeans, a red sweater, and red high heels. She had a dozen bracelets on her wrists, about six rings on her fingers, and a pendant on her neck. Corby thought she hadn’t seen anything more stylish in her life and wanted to try something like that for herself. She wanted to be like Jane, be Jane, but if she came to school dressed like that, she would be laughed at. It was impossible to become a person you never were. It was impossible to turn from a loser into a cool guy just by wearing rings on your fingers and fashionable clothes on your body.
“Hi Corb!” Jane said in a singsong voice, dropping her tray on the table. She was in a good mood or pretending to be. It was never clear with Jane. She could have a big smile on her face one minute and then hit you in the face a second later. Corby was ready for anything.
“Hi,” she said. She had to talk. She had to be polite to reduce her chances of being yelled at.
“How’s your mom?” Sylvia asked and Vera burst out laughing.
Corby said nothing in this case, looked down, and drank some juice through an attached straw. It didn’t matter what answer she gave they would laugh anyway.
Corby’s mom was a constant topic of conversation for team Jane. Chelsea Mackentile was a local celebrity, working as an anchor for TV news. She was a tall and skinny blonde and had won several beauty contests. Her career in the beauty business ended with her loss of the Miss America crown where she barely reached thirteenth place, but that didn’t stop Chelsea from becoming one of the most in-demand catalog models and later getting a job in television. Everyone was surprised at her choice of a husband, she could find someone better than the owner of a butcher shop, but Chelsea and Patrick were high school sweethearts and couldn’t see their lives going separate ways. Plus, he earned money by playing at the stock market in addition to his butcher shop, sometimes quite successfully, adding a few thousand to the family account each month. Corby didn’t like talking about her mother, of course, but she had to listen. It seemed that everyone around knew more about her parents than Corby herself. Besides the stock market and the shop, nothing else they said was true. Mom loved Corby’s dad and the stability he gave her. She didn’t need adventures and other men. It was what Corby knew and she brushed any gossip from her shoulders. If only it was as easy to get rid of conversations.
If adults were amazed by the selection of a husband by an on-screen star, Corby’s classmates were surprised by the appearance of her daughter. They asked her if she was adopted, embarrassing her to the core. Jane didn’t miss the opportunity to do it now.
“It’s amazing how the two of you don’t look alike at all,” she said. “Don’t you want to know your real mom? What if she is a millionaire?”
“Or an alcoholic,” Sylvia added and Vera roared with laughter. “We wouldn’t have any questions in that case.”
Corby put her box of juice on the table and looked at the girls. She wouldn’t eat in their presence no matter what. They could take her food away from her or start making comments when she put it in her mouth. She remembered the time when she found a banana in her bag and started to eat it at the moment when Jane came. Discussions about how big her mouth was and how much would fit in there didn’t die for weeks. Corby hated sexual jokes more than anything and she couldn’t predict them.
The girls looked at her and ate their salads and pizza from the cafeteria. Corby listened to the knocking of spoons and forks around her and thought that she would also like to have pizza. Anything, really, but she knew that today she would have to try to survive on juice until she got home. Mom would be happy to see such an outcome. She probably would be happy if Corby stopped eating entirely. If bullying helped her to get on a diet, she would say that Corby should man-up and ask them to bully her some more. Mom had never talked like this, but she could. Why not?
“Corb,” Jane said, chewing her pizza, “tell us, do you have a crush on Glasgow?”
Corby nearly choked on her juice, and shook her head.
“No.”
“Come on,” Vera picked up, “the way you look at him tells a lot.”
Corby liked Jacob, who didn’t like him? But after today she wanted to kill him, not love him. Who would make jokes about a period? Especially at fifteen? It was a rude, stupid joke and wasn’t like him at all. One of the reasons she liked Jacob Glasgow was because he had never said anything bad to her and didn’t make fun of her. He didn’t say anything good either, but it was better that way. It was better when she was an empty place for him rather than a subject for working out his sense of humor as it was today.
“You look at him. He looks at you. Such a cute couple,” Vera continued. “You should know that when boys pick on you, it means they love you.”
It seemed like almost all the boys in school were in love with her, Corby thought while the girls laughed and she was afraid to look up. She twisted her pack of juice and prayed for them to eat fast. She could get up and leave before them, but they would start yelling at her back and no one would stop them. No one stopped them before and they were not going to do it now. All the teachers pretended that nothing was going on and no one had ever bullied Corby. She could, but she had never complained to anyone other than her parents. She was ashamed to complain to her teachers, too old to be a tattletale. Well, she didn’t say much to her parents either, because it wasn’t their business and they wouldn’t do anything anyway. Corby was sure of it. Maybe the teachers really didn’t know, but it didn’t make her life easier.
“I want to tell you something, Mackentile.” Sylvia pushed her tray away, leaned toward Corby, and stared at her with her blue eyes. Corby regarded her too and tried not to turn away, although she wanted to. “If you look in the direction of Glasgow one more time, you’ll have to change schools.”
“Yeah,” Jane nodded. “Glasgow is hers.”
Corby wasn’t sure that Jacob knew about it, but she didn’t say anything, of course.
“Not that he looks in your direction,” Jane said a moment later. “His mother is a vegetarian. She taught her son not to come close to any boxes of meat.”
The girls laughed again. Corby didn’t see anything funny in what was said, but no one asked her opinion about popular girls’ sense of humor.
“Hey, Mackentile!”
Corby closed her eyes. Some of the boys. Some of the boys wanted to insult her. Second time today. What did they need from her? Her recess was already hell.
“Need tampons?” he shouted.
Stupid Glasgow! She thought they all would have forgotten about his stupid joke, but someone found her worthy of continuation.
Corby’s patience was over. She forced herself to ignore everything, but her will stopped working. It was better to let them scream at her back. It would last only as long as it took to reach the door. Corby grabbed her food to throw it in the trash and hurried away from the tables. A guy shouted something else about tampons, but Corby didn’t turn to see who it was and then some of the teachers probably intervened because no one said or yelled anything else.
Corby went to the bathroom, closed herself inside the stall, and began to cry. Only she climbed on the toilet with her legs and cried quietly, so no one would hear. Like she had done many, many times before.
“Damn Glasgow. I hate him.”
CHAPTER 2
In the Mackentile family, dinner was always held at seven and it was the only thing Corby’s mother scheduled or planned for the household. They always ate at the big glass table (Mother wanted everything metal and glass) in their big, bright kitchen with walls colored in light green. The candles were usually lit to provide good energy, as Dad said. The cook in the family was also Dad. A tall and skinny blond who gave Corby his blue eye color, plump lips, and narrow nose, he was a vegetarian and usually didn’t bring meat from the store to the house, but when his wife begged him for it on holidays or when there were guests visiting, he complied. Dad prepared vegetable dishes and Corby couldn’t stand them. In such cases, she preferred her mom’s cooking. Her mom though usually cooked a frozen pizza or some other things that could be removed from a box and put in the oven for twenty minutes. During that time, Mother could do a manicure, apply a mask, check her Facebook, and talk on the phone.
Today was also pizza. Mom knew that Dad didn’t eat meat, but she still bought one with pepperoni. He didn’t want to argue and pushed the meat to the side, while twisting his lips. He used to eat meat and given that his family owned a butcher shop, he ate it in unlimited amounts, but he stopped it as soon as his dad moved to Florida and put the full responsibility for the store on his son. Patrick Mackentile not only stopped eating meat, but he also renounced Christianity to accept Buddhism. He argued with his wife because of that for the first two years, but then she realized the debate wasn’t going to change anything and gave up. She still loved him and didn’t want to ruin the family. Not because of religion.
“What was good at school?” Mom asked, biting from a slice of pizza and reaching for the lettuce. Dad, of course, made salad. Mom usually ate half a slice of pizza and the bowl of salad. She didn’t want to get fat when the camera already added at least four pounds to her frame.
“I told you, Mom. Test, test, nothing interesting.”
“Did you play with your friends?”
“Chelsea!” Dad dropped his fork on the plate and looked at his wife reproachfully. He told her many times not to bring it up, but she forgot as always. She still remembered birthdays and the house full of children with whom Corby was a good friend.
“Mom, I told you, I have no friends.” Corby nibbled on her pizza and washed it down with juice. “And I’m fifteen; we don’t play at this age.”
“Don’t forget about your salad.” Mother pointed to the bowl. “Not only pizza.”
“Why did you put it on the table then?” Dad started his favorite topic. “Don’t serve it and she won’t eat it.”
“What should I serve in your opinion?”
“If you want your child to eat healthy food, spend a little time on it.”
“I do already! You could cook something else besides your salad. Why should I cook all the time?”
“You don’t cook all the time. You order take-out or we go somewhere to eat. We have to prepare home meals to maintain health.”
“Go ahead! I don’t stop you.”
“I don’t have time! I can barely get home in time for dinner and you’re at home by two or even earlier.”
“Never earlier.”
“Details. Plenty of time for cooking anyway.”
Corby hated this conversation. The same words over and over. Fortunately, not every day, but too often anyway. Memorized words, comments, reactions. She didn’t understand how these two people could keep assuring her that they loved each other. Sometimes, it seemed to her that they hated each other.
“Somebody threw a piece of paper at me.” Corby almost cried, hoping her parents would hear her and stop arguing.
“What piece of paper?” Mother couldn’t change the subject right away. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone threw a piece of paper at me.”
“Did you tell your teacher?” Dad asked. He always told Corby to complain. Many times he promised to come to her school, but he had never done it. Promised, but didn’t do it. Corby got used to it.
“I didn’t know who it was and I don’t like to complain.”
“You should have thrown a piece of paper at her,” Chelsea said. “What a mess. I don’t think this salad is fresh.”
“I told you, I don’t know who it was,” Corby said. Her mother didn’t listen to her ever, she thought.
“Confronting violence with violence is not an option,” Dad said.
“That is the only way to stop them.”
“Stop who? What are you talking about?”
“Until you act the same way they do, they won’t leave you alone. I wasn’t like Corby. I was in the spotlight all the time because I was a cheerleader, but I also had problems. People were jealous, but if they put a mouse in my bag, I would put a mouse in theirs.”
“What are you teaching her? What are you saying? What mouse?” Patrick said.
“I’m talking about normal things, about reality! You can’t turn your other cheek to them. You have to hit back, so they will remember.”
“Chelsea! How can you say that?”
“This is reality, Patrick. People don’t live by the law of Buddhism. Most people, anyway.”
“This is the problem. Reality? We have to make a reality! We have to teach people how to live differently. We have to teach them patience, respect for each other. Humanity.”
“You’re saying that? You? A man who works in a butcher shop?”
“That’s right!”
“Right what? You sell dead animals!”
“It teaches me to be patient with people.”
“This brings you income and you don’t want to do anything else, because your dad did everything for you and handed you his business.”
“You didn’t complain about me being a butcher when you agreed to marry me.”
“I’m not complaining now!”
“Then stop it!”
Corby pushed the empty plate away and stood. She was sick of it. It had always been like this. They started with her and ended up with their own problems. Later, Dad was going to talk about the philosophy of Buddhism. He didn’t talk about it as much as he did in the beginning of his enlightenment, but he hadn’t stopped completely. Also, as Corby’s mother said, he was a Buddhist as much as she was a pilot. He hadn’t visited the Buddhist temple once, but he read books and meditated. Mother said he had a very convenient form of Buddhism, which, she assured, he probably invented himself. Because he said that Buddhism should come on its own, without force. Faith must be in your heart because that was something that couldn’t be taught. He said he learned everything himself, without teachers. He also said that all temples were created for money collection. Once you built a temple in your heart, everything would be fine. As far as Corby knew, her father’s temple was at the very foundation and he remodeled his plans for future construction all the time.
“Did you finish your food, Corby?” Mom asked without looking at her daughter.
“Yes, thank you. I’ll go to my room.”
“Did you do your homework?”
“I did.”
Corby didn’t, but neither Mom nor Dad checked it.
“Good for you. Don’t tell me about patience! As soon as you start talking about patience, I lose it.”
Corby looked at her mom who was killing her husband with her eyes, and trudged to her room. She wanted to turn on the TV, read a chapter from the book for school, and do her math. School was easy for Corby. She always had good grades and her parents didn’t even think about participation in their daughter’s education.
She sat on the bed and examined the pink flowered wallpaper, the pink fringed lamp, the bed with a pink blanket and princess pattern. Corby had hated pink since she was seven. She told her mother about it, but the woman didn’t seem to hear. She had changed the furniture in her bedroom twice already and told her daughter that she would outgrow any color preference, hence she had to wait. Corby waited. She would like to hang photos of her favorite actor who played Austin Moon in Austin and Ally, but the wallpaper with pink flowers would make it look foolish.
Corby opened her notebook and found her homework on the website. She thought the girls from school probably texted each other now and she only had messages from her mom and dad on her phone. Sometimes, her grandparents from Florida sent her messages also. On her birthday, relatives congratulated her through her parents, because she was still a child, in their opinion.
She wanted to grow up as soon as possible and leave school. Dad once said that such confrontations between people occurred only in school and then they ended. He also said that children who were bullied in school became successful in life and the ones who were popular turned fat and lived in trailers. Corby asked if he was bullied and he said no. Kids were scared of him. He told everyone that his dad was a mad butcher and no one knew what to expect from him. Corby mentioned once that she was a butcher’s daughter, but it didn’t scare anyone, it made them laugh. His butcher’s shop was popular, but some people also knew about his vegetarianism and his calling out for peace all around the world. That was why Corby thought sometimes that her problems were partially because of her dad, because of his strange behavior. For her he was all right, but for the others he could appear crazy. Only no one talked about her dad. People preferred to discuss her mother, even though she was quite normal (in most people’s opinion).
Corby had almost finished her math when she heard a signal on her cell phone. She didn’t expect it and almost dropped the computer. Who could it be? At this time? Not even a holiday? Grandparents? Didn’t seem like them. Mom and Dad were still arguing about the difference between Buddhism and Catholicism and they wouldn’t send her a message while everyone was at home anyway. That would be really weird.
She put the computer down and went to the bedside table where she kept her phone almost all the time. She didn’t take it to school because she didn’t need it and forgot about it for the most part. She was right. The small envelope in the corner of the screen meant that someone had contacted her.
“Wrong number probably,” Corby muttered, opening the message without a name attached.
I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings 2day.I’m not always such an asshole as I look.
Corby frowned. It has to be a mistake. Who and why would anyone apologize to her? A boy? Could she receive a message from a boy?
“Glasgow?”
Corby said his name and laughed. He would never apologize to her. He didn’t even know her phone number!
“He could find out.”
Corby shook her head. No, no, no. Who then? The other boys didn’t say anything to her today. It seemed to her that some kids got tired of laughing at her. Maybe they were growing up, who knew? Someone else shouted about tampons when she was in the cafeteria. Maybe him? Corby didn’t recognize his voice and didn’t look in his direction. There was really only Glasgow, but he just couldn’t apologize to her.
She stared at the phone, at the screen that was dark already, when another signal resounded and the phone fell to the floor.
“What the heck! Seriously?”
She picked the phone up and opened messages.
In case you don’t know who this is. It’s Jacob Glasgow. Have a good night.
This time, Corby kept the phone in her hand.
“No way. Nope. This is a joke. It has to be Jane and her team of jokers. They probably decided that it wasn’t enough to bully me in school and found my phone number.” Corby was afraid it would happen one day. She had heard so much about phone and cyber harassment. Was it her time to taste this?
Corby looked at the messages trying to believe it, trying to figure out how to behave. Respond? Ignore? Ignoring was rude because he apologized. If it wasn’t him and she said something stupid, tomorrow it would be all over the school. Something like this happened to a girl from another school, Corby couldn’t remember her name. The poor thing thought she met a great boy, took a photo of herself in a bathing suit as he asked, and sent it to him. She understood that she was swindled, played on, after receiving a link to her photo on the Internet. The girl had to leave her school and she tried to commit suicide. Thank God she wasn’t successful at taking her own life because Corby had heard about situations leading to death too. She read a lot about children being bullied and how one should deal with it. The tips were stupid and it was difficult to follow them in real life. In real life, according to her mother, she had to respond with a mouse to a mouse, or with a slap in the face.
She raised her finger over the keyboard and then slowly typed thank you. She took a few deep breaths before pushing the send button. She didn’t strip like that girl and didn’t send a photo of herself half-naked to an unknown person. She wouldn’t do that for sure. She pressed the button hastily, before she could change her mind, then threw the phone inside the drawer, pushed the drawer shut, and closed her eyes. God, what would he think about her? God, God, God. Or Buddha, Buddha, Buddha as her Dad would say.
The signal alerted her to a message again. Corby almost cried because she didn’t want to know what he had answered. She didn’t want to and wanted it at the same time.
More than a minute passed before she pulled herself together and took the phone again.
No problem, the message said.
No problem. That’s all. Nothing more.
Corby looked at the phone for a few seconds then put it on the bedside table and sat down on the bed. Before she realized what emotions she had experienced, a smile spread over her face. She felt incredible. She felt as if someone had picked her up and put her on a cloud, and now she sailed across the sky and angels waved their wings at her.
Now Corby couldn’t think about math and the room didn’t seem so nauseating. She fell on her back, staring at the ceiling, and smiled.
No one had ever asked her for forgiveness, especially a boy. What if it really was him? What if? He apologized to her and wished her a good night. The most popular boy in her school, one of those who always had a sharp word for everyone, apologized to her and wished her a good night. It couldn’t be true.
Her mind began to form pictures that made her stomach churn with sweet warmth. She and Jacob walked in a park holding hands, she ran along the ocean shore and Jacob chased her, the two of them sat in a cafe and ate ice cream looking into each other’s eyes, and finally Jacob kissed her outside her house, under the single lamp that illuminated the porch.
Corby opened her eyes at the last picture and pressed her hands to her cheeks. They were burning. Never in her life had she imagined that a boy kissed her. It was so nice. Corby giggled and remembered about math. Unfortunately, no one canceled her homework and she had to take care of it no matter how much she didn’t want to right now. Corby sighed and went back to the laptop. She loved math, but right now she hated the numbers that stared at her. Now they were just plain numbers and not interesting puzzles as before.
“I’ll see him at school tomorrow,” Corby said and smiled again. Life wasn’t so bad after all.
CHAPTER 3
The day at school promised nothing bad. Or nothing different. Corby expected the same old jokes from Jane and her gang, the same laughter, hoots. She also expected the look. If it was Jacob, he had to look at her in a different way. She didn’t know how, but something to show that it was him. He sent her a message late at night, apologized, and said good night. He had to give her some indication.
She was one of the first to enter the classroom and she sat down at her desk right away, so she wouldn’t be the subject of attention as she would be if she came in last. All the students would stare at her and maybe make comments. She took out her textbooks, her notebooks, her pens and pencils, and waited.
Jacob was late as usual, but when he walked into the classroom, he looked at her first. He didn’t wink, didn’t smile, didn’t nod, he looked at her and turned away, welcoming his friends. For Corby that was enough, it was what she was waiting for. It was true. He was the one who sent the message. Three messages to be exact.
“Why are you smiling?” Corby heard and looked at Jane.
“I asked you a question,” Jane said staring at Corby.
“Is your period over?” Sylvia asked and those who heard her started to laugh.
Oddly enough, Corby was glad they laughed, because Jane turned away from her at that moment without requiring a response to her question and without asking new ones. The teacher entered a moment later and Corby was relieved. So far everything was good.
At the first break, she went to her locker to change books. Jacob’s locker was next to her’s and he was there already when she came. Her locker was simple: no decorations on the outside and only a small mirror and a photo of her favorite, although dead hamster Terry inside. Jacob’s locker was painted with some Japanese or Chinese characters. Their school allowed students to be creative like that if it could be washed away later. She was afraid to look at Jacob before and now even more. She went to the locker without watching him, opened the door, and put the textbooks in.
“Hi!” she heard while taking out what was needed. Corby slowly turned her head to the left. Jacob closed the door of his locker and smiled.
Corby didn’t know what to do and just smiled back. Jacob winked at her.
“Thank you for yesterday,” Corby said.
He didn’t answer, closed the locker, and went down the hall. He didn’t want anyone to see them having a conversation. It was fine. Corby understood and didn’t take offense. The school had its own rules; popular students were on one side and losers on the other. Jacob followed this rule during school hours, but now Corby knew that he was different and played by the rules just for show. Maybe he even liked her.
Corby wasn’t smiling when she came into her next class, but Jane and her friends still watched her like hawks. Good thing she didn’t meet them in the hallway when Jacob smiled at her, because she would be in big trouble. Sylvia decided that Jacob belonged to her and if she found out that Corby looked at him, the situation would become worse than usual. Corby now struggled not to look at Jacob during her algebra class. It was difficult to think about formulas, but she tried and even managed to get an A.
Everything went well until lunchtime.
Corby decided not to sit at the table and went to the curb, in the farthest corner of the school yard, with the hope that no one would notice her. It was warm outside during the day now and people could sit in the sun without jackets, enjoying the fresh air.
It wasn’t comfortable to eat from her lap, but still better than Jane’s company. Especially, since Corby had the same box with a cold ham sandwich that she hated so much and a carton of milk. She took one bite of her sandwich and drank only a sip of milk when Jane and her friends appeared on the horizon. Jane and Sylvia stood in front of Corby and Vera sat down beside her, hitting Corby’s elbow so that she nearly dropped the food. The trio were wearing red jackets or sweaters and skinny jeans. Certainly Jane’s idea. Everyone knew that she was full of ideas. Corby now wished she sat in the open. There was still some hope that the teachers would wake up their conscience and stand up for her.
“The box of meat is refilling,” Jane said through her clenched teeth. Today, unlike other days, she was in a bad mood and it could end up worse than usual for Corby. She stuck her sandwich back in the bag and put it down. She hated when her food was flying around. It wasn’t pretty and attracted attention.
“Just look at her!” Jane continued. “Look at her pretending to be an innocent lamb.”
“The essence of innocence,” Sylvia agreed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jane asked.
Corby just blinked. She probably had to say something, but she didn’t know what to say or what they expected from her.
“We thought you were a good girl, but you steal boys,” Jane said.
They couldn’t be talking about Jacob, Corby thought. First—she didn’t see them by the lockers, second—she didn’t steal anyone, and third—Jacob wasn’t the boyfriend of any of them. No matter what Sylvia said, Jacob didn’t date anyone in their school and Corby had heard he had a girlfriend living next door. She heard rumors, but didn’t know any details. No one would share with her and she didn’t hear much.
“Are you going to talk or not?” Sylvia asked. “You know he’s my guy.”
“Boxes of meat are like that,” Vera said, looking into Corby’s face, and Corby moved away.
“I don’t understand what you want from me,” Corby finally muttered.
“Stop it!” Jane approached Corby and leaned over her. “Molly told us how you were whoring with Glasgow by the lockers.”
“I didn’t.” Corby shook her head.
“Really?” Sylvia asked.
“What did you do with him then?” Jane asked.
“Nothing. He just said hello.”
Vera burst with laughter and clapped Corby on her shoulder. “He just said hello. That’s funny.”
“Why would he suddenly start talking to you? Stop dreaming and lying,” Jane said.
Corby understood that there was an urgent need to correct the situation, otherwise it would get worse. She didn’t know how it could become worse than it was already, but she had no doubt that anything was possible.
“He just answered. I said hello first by accident, because he was there when I came,” Corby blurted out and couldn’t believe she had said so many words at once.
“Wow.” The three friends looked at each other. They probably didn’t expect such talkativeness from Corby. She talked only in a classroom when teachers called on her, and her voice was always barely audible. Students joked that she received good grades just because teachers had no idea what she was saying.
“She’s guilty,” Vera said.
“Yep.” Jane nodded. “Too much talking.”
Sylvia came closer and bent to look at Corby’s face.
“Listen,” she said. “Listen to me very carefully, fat cow. Glasgow is mine. End of story. If I find out that you have talked to him again, looked at him or anything like that, you’re dead meat.”
Corby wondered again if Jacob knew that he belonged to Sylvia, but hoped that none of the trio could read her thoughts, or she would be what Sylvia just said—dead meat.
As if to make a point, Sylvia grabbed the edge of Corby’s silver headband, the one she had bought this past weekend at the supermarket when she was there with her mother, and pushed it over Corby’s eyes.
All three girls laughed and it took a few seconds for Corby to recover and put the headband back in place.
“Did you get that?” Sylvia asked.
Corby didn’t move.
“Did you hear her or not? You’d better answer.” Jane gently pushed Corby’s shoulder. The only thing they were afraid to do in public was something physical. Would anyone even notice if they did? Never. They could do anything to Corby without consequences and she prayed for their attitude toward physical violence to never change.
“I heard you,” she said.
“That’s better. Don’t sit like an innocent lamb. What if I call you a lamb? I think it’s perfect.”
“Maybe too cute,” Vera said as she rose. “She looks more like a cow to me.”
Jane winked and Corby didn’t know why. Maybe because she wanted to make her lamb tremble.
“You are a box of lamb meat now. Sheep meat,” Jane said aloud so the whole school could hear her, but she looked at someone sitting across from where she stood. “See you later, sheep.”
“Bye-bye, and remember,” Sylvia said as she headed after Jane.
“If you don’t want to be dead meat, remember,” Vera said and followed her friends.
Corby looked to where Jane directed her message and saw Jacob and his friends. She didn’t see them before, but they probably came closer when they heard an argument. It was fun for everyone, but Corby.
Jacob looked at her and turned to his friends again. He started to make jokes and laugh, Corby heard snatches of conversation about a strip bar. He didn’t even stand up for her, she thought. She’d made a mistake. He was a coward or he didn’t realize that he was insulting her with his silence and ignorance. He didn’t stand up for her, didn’t say a word. He just stood there and watched. Did he intend to call her again to apologize? She didn’t know. She didn’t know, but it would be better if he didn’t. She didn’t know why he apologized the first time, but it obviously didn’t mean anything. Maybe it was some kind of joke after all.
Corby picked up her milk and went to the trash can where she intended to throw her food. She wasn’t hungry today. Her mother hinted at some kind of diet and maybe this was what she wanted.
She didn’t turn to Jacob once while walking to the school building and didn’t respond to Jane’s comment.
“We’re watching you, Mackentile,” Jane yelled from the table in the center. They preferred to sit in the center of the cafeteria, in front of everyone. They showed their clothes and makeup to the girls and flirted with the boys.
Corby went straight to the classroom and stopped by her locker on the way there. She stopped and looked around. There was no one. A perfect moment to write something nasty on the door. While she was thinking, people appeared behind her and she hurried away. She could do it some other time if she wanted, but she was sure that she would cool down soon and forget about this idea.
Corby Mackentile is a fifteen-year-old girl who goes to private school and has been bullied because of her weight since she was twelve. Her parents, her mother is a TV anchor and her father is a Buddhist who owns a butcher shop, are too busy with their own problems to pay attention to their only daughter. Corby has a crush on one of the most popular boys in school, who mocks her once and then unexpectedly apologizes. From that moment the situation with three popular girls becomes worse. Then one day, one of the girls who bullied her comes to Corby’s father’s butcher shop where she works after school and confronts her about her weight. After that, everything changes.
CHAPTER 1
Something hit the back of her head and then a crumpled piece of paper rolled across the desk and fell to the floor. Someone chuckled behind Corby’s back and, as always, Mrs. Gullen didn’t notice, or didn’t want to see. She always ignored the fact that kids in school didn’t like the best student in her class, Corby Mackentile. They all disliked her in spite of her achievements and the title of “gifted.” At fifteen years old, Corby guessed it had happened in part because of her mother, an anchor at a local Boston TV news channel. Mother answered all of Corby’s complaints with one statement—they were all just jealous. Mostly the reason was Corby’s weight. She was a big girl when she was born, but when most kids’ weight would start to go down with age, Corby gained more. She was overweight and tall. One of those kids you see on TV shows like America’s in Danger or Overweight America or in competitions like The Biggest Loser. Her classmates often advised her to try the last one. They also told her that fruit and vegetables “didn’t kill nobody” and she should try to eat some, not just meat. They told her that sport was the best friend of fat people.
Mother tried to put her on different diets suitable for children, but Corby didn’t lose weight. Of course it was difficult to lose weight when Mother’s “trying” to put her on a diet consisted only of words rather than control of what went to their table and specifically on her daughter’s plate. The daughter ate everything she received without arguing with her mother or trying to lose weight. She couldn’t stop eating her favorite foods voluntarily. She couldn’t give up pizza, pasta, and sweets. In that case, there would be no reason to live.
She didn’t have problems in elementary school and was always surrounded by friends. Sometimes she was even the life of the party. She enjoyed amusing her friends, organizing games, and helping with homework. She was always invited to birthday parties and her mom wrote at least ten invitations to Corby’s own birthday party. The problems began in middle school and intensified in high school with the arrival of a beautiful girl, Jane, who once called Corby a box of meat and refused to talk to her. When it happened the first time, Corby was taken aback and began to cry. One of her friends, whose parents moved to another state a year later along with their daughter, asked why Corby said nothing in response and Corby said she didn’t want to be rude. That was true. Also true was the fact that she was afraid. Nobody had ever called her names before and she had never had to stand up for herself. Then it became the norm and it seemed that children started to forget Corby was their friend and that she was happy. Corby herself started to forget about it as if it had never existed. Later, Jane became one of the most popular girls in her school and Corby had to sit at the back of the room and keep her mouth shut in order to stay away from insult. Over time, students pushed her to the front row and for Corby it was torture, because she never knew what was going on behind her back.
A box of meat was a very insulting nickname and Jane didn’t even know at that time that Corby’s father owned the most popular local butcher’s shop. When she heard about it, her joke received the title of legendary. Corby couldn’t imagine what Jane would say if she knew about Mr. Mackentile being a vegetarian despite his possession of the shop and about him adopting a new religion—Buddhism.
Yes, Corby had forgotten how it felt when she had friends and when they listened to her opinion, when no one laughed at her. It seemed so long ago in her short life. Now, she was always alone. Even at home. A TV and books saved her from crying every day. She watched all the shows on Disney Channel and Nickelodeon, laughing at all the jokes, even when they were not funny. There she didn’t see any fat, unfortunate girls who weren’t loved by anyone, including their parents. Corby was sure that nothing would have changed for her father and mother if she didn’t exist. It would be even better for her mom, more convenient. She would spend all her time and money only on herself and wouldn’t complain about the lack of both.
“Mackentile!”
Corby flinched and looked at the teacher.
“Are you all right?” the woman asked.
Corby didn’t have time to respond. She was always slow to answer any question not knowing what would happen, ashamed of her voice and her body. She just wanted to sit at her desk and be invisible.
“She’s on the pad!”
The girls gasped, there was a slap, but all the boys laughed. Jacob Glasgow could say anything and get away with it. His parents were rich as far as Corby knew and she didn’t know much about him, but she had eyes and she saw that he was one of the most handsome boys in her school. Corby had never seen his father, but his mother was a tall, athletic blonde and Jacob didn’t look much like her. She remembered her thoughts when she saw his mother for the first time. The eyes of her classmate were the same as his mother’s—big and blue. He played on her school’s football team. He was captain last year, but resigned this year. Corby liked him, and so did half of the girls in her school. However, he didn’t date any of them because he had been dating someone from a different school. So she had overheard.
“Glasgow, I would love to hear you answering literature questions so wittily.”
“I could, Mrs. Gullen, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t like it.”
“How would you like to talk to the principal?”
“You know, Mrs. Gullen, no one ever benefited from that course of action.”
“I wouldn’t say that. An hour without you in class and I would give my students more information than in a week with you.”
“All info you give we can find on the Internet.”
“Then perhaps you will say that to your mother so she will take you out of school and you can continue getting your education through the Internet.”
“Maybe I will. I don’t think the principal would like that.”
“Okay, too much time wasted on arguments.” Mrs. Gullen turned to the board. “Let’s continue our discussion of Shakespeare.”
Corby followed the conversation and wondered again how teachers swallowed their pride and allowed students to win an argument. Only because of money. All the power was in money. If her parents had as much money as Glasgow’s, would others laugh at her? She doubted it. But she could never become rich, even though her father was selling the meat he hated. However, there was a huge benefit from this argument. Everyone had forgotten about Corby and she became invisible again. Let them debate, even brag about money, only leave her alone. She didn’t worry that this joke would continue. At fifteen, a joke about a period was stupid and Glasgow certainly understood that. Besides, Jane or any other girl wouldn’t be interested in making fun of Corby with that subject. Corby could still expect surprises.
Recess came quickly, but Corby didn’t hurry to collect her bag. She did everything slowly, so she could be the last one to leave or enter. No one should be behind her to push her, to call her names, or to laugh at her. A strategy of survival for a bullied kid.
She waited until the last student disappeared out the door and then went out herself. She passed through the hallway successfully and went to the cafeteria to eat her lunch out of a box, which was sold in the store and even included juice. Her mother said those boxes were her life savers. Corby hated them, but didn’t complain. At least she got that. Sandwiches from her father’s store were nice, but she was sick of them. The same ones for years. She could buy food in the cafeteria, but it meant she would have to stand side by side with other students, listen to their rude comments, and listen to discussions about what she put on her tray. Corby quit doing that about six months ago and started bringing her food from home. She usually sat at the farthest table outside if the weather was appropriate or in the cafeteria when it was cold, took out her hated but nerve saving box or a sandwich and ate her lunch while looking at anything she could find interesting on the Internet on her phone. She did everything possible so that no one paid attention to her, so that no one noticed her. She didn’t always succeed. Someone always wanted to earn more points to his or her popularity at Corby’s expense. It was so easy.
Today she failed to be invisible. As soon as Corby prepared to eat, Jane and her clique sat down on the bench across from her with their trays from the cafeteria.
Jane, Sylvia and Vera.
Corby thought that Sylvia and Vera became popular in high school due to their breast size and height. She started developing breasts at thirteen, but she was shy of this sign of adolescence and never took off her baggy T-shirts or sweaters that covered her body, but Sylvia and Vera exposed every gift from Mother Nature. It wasn’t like they’d been very generously endowed, but they were able to emphasize what they got and it contributed to their popularity among the boys. When Jane appeared in their school, Corby realized that not everything depended on breast size and long legs. Jane was a small, flat-chested brunette with big blue eyes. On her second day in school, she got into a fight with Sylvia because of the place at the table. The popular girls were not yet ready to let her sit with them, but she earned respect and a place simultaneously and on the same day. Then it turned out that she had a black belt in karate, took some prizes in ballroom dancing, and her dad was the owner of two popular bars in Boston. On the same second day, she noticed Corby and set up the rules. Sylvia and Vera, both, talked to Corby before and had never said anything offensive or insulting. On this day, they laughed at her when Jane called Corby a box of meat. She did it casually, just passing by. Later, Sylvia and Vera started following Jane, recognizing her leadership, and they did whatever she said.
Today Jane had on blue jeans, a red sweater, and red high heels. She had a dozen bracelets on her wrists, about six rings on her fingers, and a pendant on her neck. Corby thought she hadn’t seen anything more stylish in her life and wanted to try something like that for herself. She wanted to be like Jane, be Jane, but if she came to school dressed like that, she would be laughed at. It was impossible to become a person you never were. It was impossible to turn from a loser into a cool guy just by wearing rings on your fingers and fashionable clothes on your body.
“Hi Corb!” Jane said in a singsong voice, dropping her tray on the table. She was in a good mood or pretending to be. It was never clear with Jane. She could have a big smile on her face one minute and then hit you in the face a second later. Corby was ready for anything.
“Hi,” she said. She had to talk. She had to be polite to reduce her chances of being yelled at.
“How’s your mom?” Sylvia asked and Vera burst out laughing.
Corby said nothing in this case, looked down, and drank some juice through an attached straw. It didn’t matter what answer she gave they would laugh anyway.
Corby’s mom was a constant topic of conversation for team Jane. Chelsea Mackentile was a local celebrity, working as an anchor for TV news. She was a tall and skinny blonde and had won several beauty contests. Her career in the beauty business ended with her loss of the Miss America crown where she barely reached thirteenth place, but that didn’t stop Chelsea from becoming one of the most in-demand catalog models and later getting a job in television. Everyone was surprised at her choice of a husband, she could find someone better than the owner of a butcher shop, but Chelsea and Patrick were high school sweethearts and couldn’t see their lives going separate ways. Plus, he earned money by playing at the stock market in addition to his butcher shop, sometimes quite successfully, adding a few thousand to the family account each month. Corby didn’t like talking about her mother, of course, but she had to listen. It seemed that everyone around knew more about her parents than Corby herself. Besides the stock market and the shop, nothing else they said was true. Mom loved Corby’s dad and the stability he gave her. She didn’t need adventures and other men. It was what Corby knew and she brushed any gossip from her shoulders. If only it was as easy to get rid of conversations.
If adults were amazed by the selection of a husband by an on-screen star, Corby’s classmates were surprised by the appearance of her daughter. They asked her if she was adopted, embarrassing her to the core. Jane didn’t miss the opportunity to do it now.
“It’s amazing how the two of you don’t look alike at all,” she said. “Don’t you want to know your real mom? What if she is a millionaire?”
“Or an alcoholic,” Sylvia added and Vera roared with laughter. “We wouldn’t have any questions in that case.”
Corby put her box of juice on the table and looked at the girls. She wouldn’t eat in their presence no matter what. They could take her food away from her or start making comments when she put it in her mouth. She remembered the time when she found a banana in her bag and started to eat it at the moment when Jane came. Discussions about how big her mouth was and how much would fit in there didn’t die for weeks. Corby hated sexual jokes more than anything and she couldn’t predict them.
The girls looked at her and ate their salads and pizza from the cafeteria. Corby listened to the knocking of spoons and forks around her and thought that she would also like to have pizza. Anything, really, but she knew that today she would have to try to survive on juice until she got home. Mom would be happy to see such an outcome. She probably would be happy if Corby stopped eating entirely. If bullying helped her to get on a diet, she would say that Corby should man-up and ask them to bully her some more. Mom had never talked like this, but she could. Why not?
“Corb,” Jane said, chewing her pizza, “tell us, do you have a crush on Glasgow?”
Corby nearly choked on her juice, and shook her head.
“No.”
“Come on,” Vera picked up, “the way you look at him tells a lot.”
Corby liked Jacob, who didn’t like him? But after today she wanted to kill him, not love him. Who would make jokes about a period? Especially at fifteen? It was a rude, stupid joke and wasn’t like him at all. One of the reasons she liked Jacob Glasgow was because he had never said anything bad to her and didn’t make fun of her. He didn’t say anything good either, but it was better that way. It was better when she was an empty place for him rather than a subject for working out his sense of humor as it was today.
“You look at him. He looks at you. Such a cute couple,” Vera continued. “You should know that when boys pick on you, it means they love you.”
It seemed like almost all the boys in school were in love with her, Corby thought while the girls laughed and she was afraid to look up. She twisted her pack of juice and prayed for them to eat fast. She could get up and leave before them, but they would start yelling at her back and no one would stop them. No one stopped them before and they were not going to do it now. All the teachers pretended that nothing was going on and no one had ever bullied Corby. She could, but she had never complained to anyone other than her parents. She was ashamed to complain to her teachers, too old to be a tattletale. Well, she didn’t say much to her parents either, because it wasn’t their business and they wouldn’t do anything anyway. Corby was sure of it. Maybe the teachers really didn’t know, but it didn’t make her life easier.
“I want to tell you something, Mackentile.” Sylvia pushed her tray away, leaned toward Corby, and stared at her with her blue eyes. Corby regarded her too and tried not to turn away, although she wanted to. “If you look in the direction of Glasgow one more time, you’ll have to change schools.”
“Yeah,” Jane nodded. “Glasgow is hers.”
Corby wasn’t sure that Jacob knew about it, but she didn’t say anything, of course.
“Not that he looks in your direction,” Jane said a moment later. “His mother is a vegetarian. She taught her son not to come close to any boxes of meat.”
The girls laughed again. Corby didn’t see anything funny in what was said, but no one asked her opinion about popular girls’ sense of humor.
“Hey, Mackentile!”
Corby closed her eyes. Some of the boys. Some of the boys wanted to insult her. Second time today. What did they need from her? Her recess was already hell.
“Need tampons?” he shouted.
Stupid Glasgow! She thought they all would have forgotten about his stupid joke, but someone found her worthy of continuation.
Corby’s patience was over. She forced herself to ignore everything, but her will stopped working. It was better to let them scream at her back. It would last only as long as it took to reach the door. Corby grabbed her food to throw it in the trash and hurried away from the tables. A guy shouted something else about tampons, but Corby didn’t turn to see who it was and then some of the teachers probably intervened because no one said or yelled anything else.
Corby went to the bathroom, closed herself inside the stall, and began to cry. Only she climbed on the toilet with her legs and cried quietly, so no one would hear. Like she had done many, many times before.
“Damn Glasgow. I hate him.”
CHAPTER 2
In the Mackentile family, dinner was always held at seven and it was the only thing Corby’s mother scheduled or planned for the household. They always ate at the big glass table (Mother wanted everything metal and glass) in their big, bright kitchen with walls colored in light green. The candles were usually lit to provide good energy, as Dad said. The cook in the family was also Dad. A tall and skinny blond who gave Corby his blue eye color, plump lips, and narrow nose, he was a vegetarian and usually didn’t bring meat from the store to the house, but when his wife begged him for it on holidays or when there were guests visiting, he complied. Dad prepared vegetable dishes and Corby couldn’t stand them. In such cases, she preferred her mom’s cooking. Her mom though usually cooked a frozen pizza or some other things that could be removed from a box and put in the oven for twenty minutes. During that time, Mother could do a manicure, apply a mask, check her Facebook, and talk on the phone.
Today was also pizza. Mom knew that Dad didn’t eat meat, but she still bought one with pepperoni. He didn’t want to argue and pushed the meat to the side, while twisting his lips. He used to eat meat and given that his family owned a butcher shop, he ate it in unlimited amounts, but he stopped it as soon as his dad moved to Florida and put the full responsibility for the store on his son. Patrick Mackentile not only stopped eating meat, but he also renounced Christianity to accept Buddhism. He argued with his wife because of that for the first two years, but then she realized the debate wasn’t going to change anything and gave up. She still loved him and didn’t want to ruin the family. Not because of religion.
“What was good at school?” Mom asked, biting from a slice of pizza and reaching for the lettuce. Dad, of course, made salad. Mom usually ate half a slice of pizza and the bowl of salad. She didn’t want to get fat when the camera already added at least four pounds to her frame.
“I told you, Mom. Test, test, nothing interesting.”
“Did you play with your friends?”
“Chelsea!” Dad dropped his fork on the plate and looked at his wife reproachfully. He told her many times not to bring it up, but she forgot as always. She still remembered birthdays and the house full of children with whom Corby was a good friend.
“Mom, I told you, I have no friends.” Corby nibbled on her pizza and washed it down with juice. “And I’m fifteen; we don’t play at this age.”
“Don’t forget about your salad.” Mother pointed to the bowl. “Not only pizza.”
“Why did you put it on the table then?” Dad started his favorite topic. “Don’t serve it and she won’t eat it.”
“What should I serve in your opinion?”
“If you want your child to eat healthy food, spend a little time on it.”
“I do already! You could cook something else besides your salad. Why should I cook all the time?”
“You don’t cook all the time. You order take-out or we go somewhere to eat. We have to prepare home meals to maintain health.”
“Go ahead! I don’t stop you.”
“I don’t have time! I can barely get home in time for dinner and you’re at home by two or even earlier.”
“Never earlier.”
“Details. Plenty of time for cooking anyway.”
Corby hated this conversation. The same words over and over. Fortunately, not every day, but too often anyway. Memorized words, comments, reactions. She didn’t understand how these two people could keep assuring her that they loved each other. Sometimes, it seemed to her that they hated each other.
“Somebody threw a piece of paper at me.” Corby almost cried, hoping her parents would hear her and stop arguing.
“What piece of paper?” Mother couldn’t change the subject right away. “What are you talking about?”
“Someone threw a piece of paper at me.”
“Did you tell your teacher?” Dad asked. He always told Corby to complain. Many times he promised to come to her school, but he had never done it. Promised, but didn’t do it. Corby got used to it.
“I didn’t know who it was and I don’t like to complain.”
“You should have thrown a piece of paper at her,” Chelsea said. “What a mess. I don’t think this salad is fresh.”
“I told you, I don’t know who it was,” Corby said. Her mother didn’t listen to her ever, she thought.
“Confronting violence with violence is not an option,” Dad said.
“That is the only way to stop them.”
“Stop who? What are you talking about?”
“Until you act the same way they do, they won’t leave you alone. I wasn’t like Corby. I was in the spotlight all the time because I was a cheerleader, but I also had problems. People were jealous, but if they put a mouse in my bag, I would put a mouse in theirs.”
“What are you teaching her? What are you saying? What mouse?” Patrick said.
“I’m talking about normal things, about reality! You can’t turn your other cheek to them. You have to hit back, so they will remember.”
“Chelsea! How can you say that?”
“This is reality, Patrick. People don’t live by the law of Buddhism. Most people, anyway.”
“This is the problem. Reality? We have to make a reality! We have to teach people how to live differently. We have to teach them patience, respect for each other. Humanity.”
“You’re saying that? You? A man who works in a butcher shop?”
“That’s right!”
“Right what? You sell dead animals!”
“It teaches me to be patient with people.”
“This brings you income and you don’t want to do anything else, because your dad did everything for you and handed you his business.”
“You didn’t complain about me being a butcher when you agreed to marry me.”
“I’m not complaining now!”
“Then stop it!”
Corby pushed the empty plate away and stood. She was sick of it. It had always been like this. They started with her and ended up with their own problems. Later, Dad was going to talk about the philosophy of Buddhism. He didn’t talk about it as much as he did in the beginning of his enlightenment, but he hadn’t stopped completely. Also, as Corby’s mother said, he was a Buddhist as much as she was a pilot. He hadn’t visited the Buddhist temple once, but he read books and meditated. Mother said he had a very convenient form of Buddhism, which, she assured, he probably invented himself. Because he said that Buddhism should come on its own, without force. Faith must be in your heart because that was something that couldn’t be taught. He said he learned everything himself, without teachers. He also said that all temples were created for money collection. Once you built a temple in your heart, everything would be fine. As far as Corby knew, her father’s temple was at the very foundation and he remodeled his plans for future construction all the time.
“Did you finish your food, Corby?” Mom asked without looking at her daughter.
“Yes, thank you. I’ll go to my room.”
“Did you do your homework?”
“I did.”
Corby didn’t, but neither Mom nor Dad checked it.
“Good for you. Don’t tell me about patience! As soon as you start talking about patience, I lose it.”
Corby looked at her mom who was killing her husband with her eyes, and trudged to her room. She wanted to turn on the TV, read a chapter from the book for school, and do her math. School was easy for Corby. She always had good grades and her parents didn’t even think about participation in their daughter’s education.
She sat on the bed and examined the pink flowered wallpaper, the pink fringed lamp, the bed with a pink blanket and princess pattern. Corby had hated pink since she was seven. She told her mother about it, but the woman didn’t seem to hear. She had changed the furniture in her bedroom twice already and told her daughter that she would outgrow any color preference, hence she had to wait. Corby waited. She would like to hang photos of her favorite actor who played Austin Moon in Austin and Ally, but the wallpaper with pink flowers would make it look foolish.
Corby opened her notebook and found her homework on the website. She thought the girls from school probably texted each other now and she only had messages from her mom and dad on her phone. Sometimes, her grandparents from Florida sent her messages also. On her birthday, relatives congratulated her through her parents, because she was still a child, in their opinion.
She wanted to grow up as soon as possible and leave school. Dad once said that such confrontations between people occurred only in school and then they ended. He also said that children who were bullied in school became successful in life and the ones who were popular turned fat and lived in trailers. Corby asked if he was bullied and he said no. Kids were scared of him. He told everyone that his dad was a mad butcher and no one knew what to expect from him. Corby mentioned once that she was a butcher’s daughter, but it didn’t scare anyone, it made them laugh. His butcher’s shop was popular, but some people also knew about his vegetarianism and his calling out for peace all around the world. That was why Corby thought sometimes that her problems were partially because of her dad, because of his strange behavior. For her he was all right, but for the others he could appear crazy. Only no one talked about her dad. People preferred to discuss her mother, even though she was quite normal (in most people’s opinion).
Corby had almost finished her math when she heard a signal on her cell phone. She didn’t expect it and almost dropped the computer. Who could it be? At this time? Not even a holiday? Grandparents? Didn’t seem like them. Mom and Dad were still arguing about the difference between Buddhism and Catholicism and they wouldn’t send her a message while everyone was at home anyway. That would be really weird.
She put the computer down and went to the bedside table where she kept her phone almost all the time. She didn’t take it to school because she didn’t need it and forgot about it for the most part. She was right. The small envelope in the corner of the screen meant that someone had contacted her.
“Wrong number probably,” Corby muttered, opening the message without a name attached.
I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings 2day.I’m not always such an asshole as I look.
Corby frowned. It has to be a mistake. Who and why would anyone apologize to her? A boy? Could she receive a message from a boy?
“Glasgow?”
Corby said his name and laughed. He would never apologize to her. He didn’t even know her phone number!
“He could find out.”
Corby shook her head. No, no, no. Who then? The other boys didn’t say anything to her today. It seemed to her that some kids got tired of laughing at her. Maybe they were growing up, who knew? Someone else shouted about tampons when she was in the cafeteria. Maybe him? Corby didn’t recognize his voice and didn’t look in his direction. There was really only Glasgow, but he just couldn’t apologize to her.
She stared at the phone, at the screen that was dark already, when another signal resounded and the phone fell to the floor.
“What the heck! Seriously?”
She picked the phone up and opened messages.
In case you don’t know who this is. It’s Jacob Glasgow. Have a good night.
This time, Corby kept the phone in her hand.
“No way. Nope. This is a joke. It has to be Jane and her team of jokers. They probably decided that it wasn’t enough to bully me in school and found my phone number.” Corby was afraid it would happen one day. She had heard so much about phone and cyber harassment. Was it her time to taste this?
Corby looked at the messages trying to believe it, trying to figure out how to behave. Respond? Ignore? Ignoring was rude because he apologized. If it wasn’t him and she said something stupid, tomorrow it would be all over the school. Something like this happened to a girl from another school, Corby couldn’t remember her name. The poor thing thought she met a great boy, took a photo of herself in a bathing suit as he asked, and sent it to him. She understood that she was swindled, played on, after receiving a link to her photo on the Internet. The girl had to leave her school and she tried to commit suicide. Thank God she wasn’t successful at taking her own life because Corby had heard about situations leading to death too. She read a lot about children being bullied and how one should deal with it. The tips were stupid and it was difficult to follow them in real life. In real life, according to her mother, she had to respond with a mouse to a mouse, or with a slap in the face.
She raised her finger over the keyboard and then slowly typed thank you. She took a few deep breaths before pushing the send button. She didn’t strip like that girl and didn’t send a photo of herself half-naked to an unknown person. She wouldn’t do that for sure. She pressed the button hastily, before she could change her mind, then threw the phone inside the drawer, pushed the drawer shut, and closed her eyes. God, what would he think about her? God, God, God. Or Buddha, Buddha, Buddha as her Dad would say.
The signal alerted her to a message again. Corby almost cried because she didn’t want to know what he had answered. She didn’t want to and wanted it at the same time.
More than a minute passed before she pulled herself together and took the phone again.
No problem, the message said.
No problem. That’s all. Nothing more.
Corby looked at the phone for a few seconds then put it on the bedside table and sat down on the bed. Before she realized what emotions she had experienced, a smile spread over her face. She felt incredible. She felt as if someone had picked her up and put her on a cloud, and now she sailed across the sky and angels waved their wings at her.
Now Corby couldn’t think about math and the room didn’t seem so nauseating. She fell on her back, staring at the ceiling, and smiled.
No one had ever asked her for forgiveness, especially a boy. What if it really was him? What if? He apologized to her and wished her a good night. The most popular boy in her school, one of those who always had a sharp word for everyone, apologized to her and wished her a good night. It couldn’t be true.
Her mind began to form pictures that made her stomach churn with sweet warmth. She and Jacob walked in a park holding hands, she ran along the ocean shore and Jacob chased her, the two of them sat in a cafe and ate ice cream looking into each other’s eyes, and finally Jacob kissed her outside her house, under the single lamp that illuminated the porch.
Corby opened her eyes at the last picture and pressed her hands to her cheeks. They were burning. Never in her life had she imagined that a boy kissed her. It was so nice. Corby giggled and remembered about math. Unfortunately, no one canceled her homework and she had to take care of it no matter how much she didn’t want to right now. Corby sighed and went back to the laptop. She loved math, but right now she hated the numbers that stared at her. Now they were just plain numbers and not interesting puzzles as before.
“I’ll see him at school tomorrow,” Corby said and smiled again. Life wasn’t so bad after all.
CHAPTER 3
The day at school promised nothing bad. Or nothing different. Corby expected the same old jokes from Jane and her gang, the same laughter, hoots. She also expected the look. If it was Jacob, he had to look at her in a different way. She didn’t know how, but something to show that it was him. He sent her a message late at night, apologized, and said good night. He had to give her some indication.
She was one of the first to enter the classroom and she sat down at her desk right away, so she wouldn’t be the subject of attention as she would be if she came in last. All the students would stare at her and maybe make comments. She took out her textbooks, her notebooks, her pens and pencils, and waited.
Jacob was late as usual, but when he walked into the classroom, he looked at her first. He didn’t wink, didn’t smile, didn’t nod, he looked at her and turned away, welcoming his friends. For Corby that was enough, it was what she was waiting for. It was true. He was the one who sent the message. Three messages to be exact.
“Why are you smiling?” Corby heard and looked at Jane.
“I asked you a question,” Jane said staring at Corby.
“Is your period over?” Sylvia asked and those who heard her started to laugh.
Oddly enough, Corby was glad they laughed, because Jane turned away from her at that moment without requiring a response to her question and without asking new ones. The teacher entered a moment later and Corby was relieved. So far everything was good.
At the first break, she went to her locker to change books. Jacob’s locker was next to her’s and he was there already when she came. Her locker was simple: no decorations on the outside and only a small mirror and a photo of her favorite, although dead hamster Terry inside. Jacob’s locker was painted with some Japanese or Chinese characters. Their school allowed students to be creative like that if it could be washed away later. She was afraid to look at Jacob before and now even more. She went to the locker without watching him, opened the door, and put the textbooks in.
“Hi!” she heard while taking out what was needed. Corby slowly turned her head to the left. Jacob closed the door of his locker and smiled.
Corby didn’t know what to do and just smiled back. Jacob winked at her.
“Thank you for yesterday,” Corby said.
He didn’t answer, closed the locker, and went down the hall. He didn’t want anyone to see them having a conversation. It was fine. Corby understood and didn’t take offense. The school had its own rules; popular students were on one side and losers on the other. Jacob followed this rule during school hours, but now Corby knew that he was different and played by the rules just for show. Maybe he even liked her.
Corby wasn’t smiling when she came into her next class, but Jane and her friends still watched her like hawks. Good thing she didn’t meet them in the hallway when Jacob smiled at her, because she would be in big trouble. Sylvia decided that Jacob belonged to her and if she found out that Corby looked at him, the situation would become worse than usual. Corby now struggled not to look at Jacob during her algebra class. It was difficult to think about formulas, but she tried and even managed to get an A.
Everything went well until lunchtime.
Corby decided not to sit at the table and went to the curb, in the farthest corner of the school yard, with the hope that no one would notice her. It was warm outside during the day now and people could sit in the sun without jackets, enjoying the fresh air.
It wasn’t comfortable to eat from her lap, but still better than Jane’s company. Especially, since Corby had the same box with a cold ham sandwich that she hated so much and a carton of milk. She took one bite of her sandwich and drank only a sip of milk when Jane and her friends appeared on the horizon. Jane and Sylvia stood in front of Corby and Vera sat down beside her, hitting Corby’s elbow so that she nearly dropped the food. The trio were wearing red jackets or sweaters and skinny jeans. Certainly Jane’s idea. Everyone knew that she was full of ideas. Corby now wished she sat in the open. There was still some hope that the teachers would wake up their conscience and stand up for her.
“The box of meat is refilling,” Jane said through her clenched teeth. Today, unlike other days, she was in a bad mood and it could end up worse than usual for Corby. She stuck her sandwich back in the bag and put it down. She hated when her food was flying around. It wasn’t pretty and attracted attention.
“Just look at her!” Jane continued. “Look at her pretending to be an innocent lamb.”
“The essence of innocence,” Sylvia agreed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jane asked.
Corby just blinked. She probably had to say something, but she didn’t know what to say or what they expected from her.
“We thought you were a good girl, but you steal boys,” Jane said.
They couldn’t be talking about Jacob, Corby thought. First—she didn’t see them by the lockers, second—she didn’t steal anyone, and third—Jacob wasn’t the boyfriend of any of them. No matter what Sylvia said, Jacob didn’t date anyone in their school and Corby had heard he had a girlfriend living next door. She heard rumors, but didn’t know any details. No one would share with her and she didn’t hear much.
“Are you going to talk or not?” Sylvia asked. “You know he’s my guy.”
“Boxes of meat are like that,” Vera said, looking into Corby’s face, and Corby moved away.
“I don’t understand what you want from me,” Corby finally muttered.
“Stop it!” Jane approached Corby and leaned over her. “Molly told us how you were whoring with Glasgow by the lockers.”
“I didn’t.” Corby shook her head.
“Really?” Sylvia asked.
“What did you do with him then?” Jane asked.
“Nothing. He just said hello.”
Vera burst with laughter and clapped Corby on her shoulder. “He just said hello. That’s funny.”
“Why would he suddenly start talking to you? Stop dreaming and lying,” Jane said.
Corby understood that there was an urgent need to correct the situation, otherwise it would get worse. She didn’t know how it could become worse than it was already, but she had no doubt that anything was possible.
“He just answered. I said hello first by accident, because he was there when I came,” Corby blurted out and couldn’t believe she had said so many words at once.
“Wow.” The three friends looked at each other. They probably didn’t expect such talkativeness from Corby. She talked only in a classroom when teachers called on her, and her voice was always barely audible. Students joked that she received good grades just because teachers had no idea what she was saying.
“She’s guilty,” Vera said.
“Yep.” Jane nodded. “Too much talking.”
Sylvia came closer and bent to look at Corby’s face.
“Listen,” she said. “Listen to me very carefully, fat cow. Glasgow is mine. End of story. If I find out that you have talked to him again, looked at him or anything like that, you’re dead meat.”
Corby wondered again if Jacob knew that he belonged to Sylvia, but hoped that none of the trio could read her thoughts, or she would be what Sylvia just said—dead meat.
As if to make a point, Sylvia grabbed the edge of Corby’s silver headband, the one she had bought this past weekend at the supermarket when she was there with her mother, and pushed it over Corby’s eyes.
All three girls laughed and it took a few seconds for Corby to recover and put the headband back in place.
“Did you get that?” Sylvia asked.
Corby didn’t move.
“Did you hear her or not? You’d better answer.” Jane gently pushed Corby’s shoulder. The only thing they were afraid to do in public was something physical. Would anyone even notice if they did? Never. They could do anything to Corby without consequences and she prayed for their attitude toward physical violence to never change.
“I heard you,” she said.
“That’s better. Don’t sit like an innocent lamb. What if I call you a lamb? I think it’s perfect.”
“Maybe too cute,” Vera said as she rose. “She looks more like a cow to me.”
Jane winked and Corby didn’t know why. Maybe because she wanted to make her lamb tremble.
“You are a box of lamb meat now. Sheep meat,” Jane said aloud so the whole school could hear her, but she looked at someone sitting across from where she stood. “See you later, sheep.”
“Bye-bye, and remember,” Sylvia said as she headed after Jane.
“If you don’t want to be dead meat, remember,” Vera said and followed her friends.
Corby looked to where Jane directed her message and saw Jacob and his friends. She didn’t see them before, but they probably came closer when they heard an argument. It was fun for everyone, but Corby.
Jacob looked at her and turned to his friends again. He started to make jokes and laugh, Corby heard snatches of conversation about a strip bar. He didn’t even stand up for her, she thought. She’d made a mistake. He was a coward or he didn’t realize that he was insulting her with his silence and ignorance. He didn’t stand up for her, didn’t say a word. He just stood there and watched. Did he intend to call her again to apologize? She didn’t know. She didn’t know, but it would be better if he didn’t. She didn’t know why he apologized the first time, but it obviously didn’t mean anything. Maybe it was some kind of joke after all.
Corby picked up her milk and went to the trash can where she intended to throw her food. She wasn’t hungry today. Her mother hinted at some kind of diet and maybe this was what she wanted.
She didn’t turn to Jacob once while walking to the school building and didn’t respond to Jane’s comment.
“We’re watching you, Mackentile,” Jane yelled from the table in the center. They preferred to sit in the center of the cafeteria, in front of everyone. They showed their clothes and makeup to the girls and flirted with the boys.
Corby went straight to the classroom and stopped by her locker on the way there. She stopped and looked around. There was no one. A perfect moment to write something nasty on the door. While she was thinking, people appeared behind her and she hurried away. She could do it some other time if she wanted, but she was sure that she would cool down soon and forget about this idea.
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Liberty wrote: "My name is Corby and I am male and so is every Corby I have met (all 3 of us).I think I should get to read your book since you used my name. I will even let you read my book, same Kindle price."
Thank you!
I think I should get to read your book since you used my name. I will even let you read my book, same Kindle price.