Chapter 1
I was a 198-pound girl, and I had liked Caleb Grant, the campus heartthrob, for three years.
At his birthday party, I lost a game.
Someone started cheering and told me to kiss the person on my left on the cheek.
I looked at Caleb, full of expectation.
He turned his face away in disgust.
“Don’t make me sick. I don’t want to get mauled by a pig.”
My roommate Chloe Hart immediately jumped in to defend him.
“Exactly. Who’d want to be kissed by a fat pig?”
Then the boy sitting on my right spoke.
“I would.”
…
Caleb’s birthday was a week away.
I had specially learned how to do makeup, put on the new dress I bought, and turned once in front of the mirror.
The dress was a little tight. The flesh around my waist was squeezed out.
I took a deep breath and sucked in my stomach.
The person in the mirror had not changed much.
But at least she looked a little better than before.
The door opened.
Chloe Hart and my other two roommates came back.
As soon as Chloe walked in, she burst out laughing.
“Oh my God, look at her. What’s gotten into her today? A dress and makeup?”
She pointed straight at me.
“Even pigs are learning how to dress up now. Is this some kind of transformation?”
The other two roommates laughed along.
“She looks disgusting but dreams big.”
“That dress makes her waist look like a barrel. Hideous.”
“She doesn’t seriously think makeup will make her pretty, does she?”
“Stop, I’m going to throw up.”
When I stepped on the scale, it read 198 pounds.
They were right.
Only girls as thin as them deserved to wear dresses.
I took off the dress, folded it neatly, and put it back on the top shelf of my closet.
Then I went to the bathroom and washed off the makeup.
I changed back into my usual T-shirt and long pants.
The person in the mirror became the version of myself I knew best—the one who curled up quietly in a corner.
Chloe glanced up at me.
“Well, at least you know your place.”
I knew she meant the makeup and the dress.
I said nothing.
I lowered my head, took out my phone, and messaged Caleb.
Maybe I shouldn’t go to your birthday party.
He replied quickly.
What’s wrong? Something came up?
How could I explain?
Should I say I felt too fat and was afraid I would embarrass him?
I typed several lines, deleted them, typed again, and finally sent:
Nothing really.
He replied:
Good.
Before I could answer, another message came through.
I already booked the place.
Nova Karaoke, Room 406. This Sunday at six.
Just come straight there.
I swallowed the refusal back down.
Of course I wanted to go.
Who wouldn’t want to spend the birthday of someone they liked with him?