Starfish

by Lisa Fipps

“Guests should always have the best.” They accepted me, just as I am, in five seconds flat. Why can’t my family do that?

The fatter you are, the lower you are on the food chain.

“And you need to gain manners!”

Fat people have one superpower. Their eyes are rulers, measuring spaces to see if they’ll fit. I activate mine when Catalina’s family picks out a pink picnic table. I’ll fit, but it’ll be tight.

“Stereotypes stink. They give people an excuse to hate people who are different instead of taking the time to get to know them.” “Nicely said. It’s almost like you’re a writer or something.”

“I hate the way people look at us and how they treat us.” Does everybody make somebody feel like a nobody?

When eating out, never finish first.

People stereotype me all the time, too. They think fat people are dumb. I’m at the top of my class. They think we’re slobs. My room is spotless. They think we’re unhappy. That’s true. But they think I’m unhappy because I’m fat. The truth is, I’m unhappy because they bully me about being fat.

This is what you’ll find in the dictionary when you look up the definition of gym: gym (noun) \´jim\ : school-approved body-shaming session. Well, that’s what it should say. Athletes love PE, an easy A. Everyone else just tries to survive it. If you don’t have hang-ups about your body before you take phys ed, you will after. You’re literally graded on what it can and cannot do. Like a pack of feral cats with a trapped mouse, the other team tortures me slowly during dodgeball by making me the last one standing. Then the players pounce, zinging me with all the balls at once, leaving stinging welts. Outside and in.

When you hear laughter, someone’s laughing at you.

“Got something to say about my body when you have obvious flaws, too?”

Standing up for myself is a good thing, right? So why do I feel so mean, so sad?

Forget sibling rivalry. I’m all about sibling bribery.

I may never see the light of day again.

If only you could exchange siblings like you can horrible gifts. I’d trade Liam for Javier in a heartbeat.

“Mom thinks something’s wrong with me since I’m as big as a whale.” “Well, that is messed up.” “Gee, thanks.” “No! Your mom’s thinking. Not you!” Could Catalina be right? Could it be Mom’s thinking that needs fixing and not me?

“Well now, this story has more twists than a pretzel factory.”

Dad thinks my tears won’t stop because of what Liam did. Who cares about him? I’m crying because I didn’t get to reply to Viv’s text. I’m crying because she’s so far away. I’m crying because I’m missing Viv so much.

What’s more frightening than a twister coming at you is a tornado of emotions inside of you.

“When I tried to stand up for myself, why did I end up feeling worse than when they bully me?” “Think about our little duel. What did you learn?” “That you like toys?” “True, but focus on the battle. Did I ever use my saber to strike you?” I shake my head. “So I can defend myself without attacking others?” “Good Jedi, you are.”

When grown-ups fully understand technology, kids will be in big trouble. Until then, we rule the planet.

Equally horrible. The divorce is final. I’m officially without a family.

Never feeling settled. No one place to call home. But would I feel relieved, too? No more hearing them fighting because of me would be nice. Of course, if I had to choose which parent to live with, I know it’d be Dad, not because I love him more, but because I’m not sure Mom loves me at all.

Will there ever be world peace when families can’t even agree on what to have for dinner?

It doesn’t matter what I want. Wherever we go, I don’t even bother to look at the menu. Mom always decides what I get.

“You. Owe. My. Daughter. An. Apology.” “I’m sorry she’s fat?” The boy’s dad chuckles. The manager comes over, steps between them. “Let’s all remain calm.” Mom stands up. “Stop, Phillip. Let’s go. We’ve been humiliated enough.” We?! “We are out of here.” Mom tugs on Dad’s arms as she tells us kids to go to the car. Like I said, Mom always decides what I get.

“I’ve never been cheered on by my classmates before. Being chosen as the mascot is a huge honor.” “I’m so proud of you! So happy for you!” I mean it. But I’m also envious. Viv’s found a cool way to be okay with her size. How do I do that? To me, that seems as impossible as finding a unicorn.

In English class, my teacher says that even the worst villain has a bit of good inside.

Sometimes it ticks me off, and I want to punch people. Mostly I just wish I didn’t have to be seen with her. Liam is so full of hate for me, I can’t even think of him as my brother anymore. DNA doesn’t make you family. Love does. Actions do.

I realize the anger I feel right now isn’t just about Liam’s horrible, heartbreaking words in the journal. It’s from all the words I’ve ever wanted to say back to him. Words that’ve been smoldering inside of me. It’s time to let them go. They don’t seem to bother him one bit, but they’re hurting me.

Gigi looks up at me with her bulging pug eyes like, This is worse than pee-on-the-new-white-carpet bad, right? I nod. The secret to surviving childhood so far has been knowing when to keep my mouth shut. But I am not a child anymore. I have feelings. I have thoughts. I have the right to express them both.

“So tearing it into pieces and tossing it into the trash wasn’t an option?” Mom throws her hands up in the air. “Nope! Not when you’re always going through my trash.” I can’t believe I just said these words aloud. And it’s so worth it to see the shocked look on her face. “You should hear all the words I want to say to you, Mom.” I may be grounded, but I’m lighter than a balloon as I float to my room.

In the Lone Star State, Friday nights in the fall are all about football, but not at our house, although we could use a few referees —especially after this week, when it’s been one scrimmage after another.

I prefer cuddling with a porcupine over hugging Liam.

“May God show you favor and be gracious to you. May God show you kindness and grant you peace.” Favor. Kindness. Peace. Yes, I’d like that. From Mom. For a change.

“Reading should be like dining at a buffet,” she says. “You have a lot to choose from: fiction, poetry, graphic novels, and more. There are books galore! Eat them all up!” After we read, we’re supposed to write about the books in our journals. A teacher who talks about books, food, and writing? Trifecta.

I know what it’s like not to be heard.

“Whales are unique, beautiful, and powerful,” Mrs. Boardman says. “If you bothered to learn more about them, you’d know that.”

School break. Two words that spark joy in the hearts of students everywhere. Family trip. Two words that spark fights in the car, the plane, the hotel—everywhere.

I’ll never understand grown-ups.

To top it off, there’s no pool. Even if there were, I’d just as soon tie bloody fish around my waist and dive into an ocean of sharks than swim with strangers.

The universe should warn you when something horrible is about to happen, give you a chance to take a deep breath before your breath gets taken away.

What do I do? I think about what Doc said. I have the right to stand up for myself, to defend myself.

mon ∙ ster (noun) \´män(t)-st´r\ 1 : a human grotesquely deviating from the normal shape. 2 : one who inspires horror or disgust. 3 : me.

I open the door and let him in, and he sits and holds me like I’m a little girl and rocks me until I’m all cried out.

Sometimes you just need more time.

I don’t know if I’ll ever tell him. I don’t want to ruin his good memories of Niagara Falls. “I feel so stupid, not figuring out what they were up to. And I feel so guilty for what I did. I stole something. I’ve never done that before. I destroyed their vacation photos.” “You feel guilty because you’re a good person who made a bad decision to snatch the card rather than defend yourself.” Doc hands me a piece of stationery and a pen. “Write that girl a letter and confront her.”

Dear girl who tapped me on the shoulder: What made you think it was okay to take a photo of me without my permission just because I don’t look like you? What if someone took photos of you, showing everyone what makes you different? What part of you would you want to hide? Do you think it’s funny to make another person feel like less of a human? PS You must feel kind of bad about yourself if you feel good when you hurt someone else. PPS Sorry I stole the memory card. That was wrong of me, no matter what you did.

I’d aimed for her head, but hit her heart. Well, where her heart would be, if she had one.

“You think you’re funny,” I tell him. “But you’re just plain old mean. Maybe I can’t stop you, but I can at least make you look me in the eye every time you do it. And I will, from now on.” As I walk away, I realize I’ve been starfishing— starting to claim my right to take up space in this place.