Girls Like Me Read online

  Contents

  *

  Title Page

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Girls Like Me

  Singular Reads

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Lola StVil

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to [email protected] or to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 3 Park Avenue, 19th Floor, New York, New York 10016.

  www.hmhco.com

  Cover illustration © 2016 by Noelle Stevenson

  Cover design by Whitney Leader-Picone

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Names: StVil, Lola, author.

  Title: Girls like me / written by Lola StVil.

  Description: Boston : Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2016. | Summary: Fifteen-year-old Shay is trying to cope with being overweight and getting bullied in school, but when she falls in love with mysterious Blake, insecure Shay needs the help of her two best friends to make love prevail.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2015033387 | ISBN 9780544706743 (hardback)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Novels in verse. | Self-esteem—Fiction. | Bullying—Fiction. | Love—Fiction. | Friendship—Fiction. | Humorous stories. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Stories in Verse. | JUVENILE FICTION / Love & Romance. | JUVENILE FICTION / Humorous Stories. | JUVENILE FICTION / Social Issues / Bullying. | JUVENILE FICTION / Girls & Women. | JUVENILE FICTION / Social Issues / Adolescence.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.5.S78 Gi 2016 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015033387

  eISBN 978-0-544-86814-4

  v1.0916

  This book is for my family:

  Ricaldo “I’m okay with takeout—again” Cherubin,

  Cindy “The wheels are in motion” St. Vil,

  Arnold “How much is this going to cost me?” St. Vil,

  And most important, my mom, Marie “Did you eat?” St. Vil.

  I love you.

  O! be some other name:

  What’s in a name? that which we call a rose

  By any other name would smell as sweet.

  —Romeo and Juliet

  Aftermath

  I whip out fake smile reserved for

  Monday mornings, cheerleaders

  Stepmoms

  Kara stitches series of mom-esque words

  Forming dubious praise

  “Your face is so pretty this morning”

  = You look fat

  “I made egg white omelets and wheat toast”

  = So you will no longer be fat

  “It’s nice out. You should walk home today.”

  = So you can be less fat

  Kara is stuck

  With me

  Shay Summers: pretty-faced fat girl who

  Reads. Writes. Thinks.

  Too much

  Dad died

  Selfish, Dad, very selfish.

  “Don’t be late for school”

  = Don’t stay behind, pig out, get more fat

  Flashes her best fake smile

  The one she keeps in the freezer

  So that it stays

  Frozen

  In

  Place

  “See you later”

  Finally alone, I call on my friends:

  Breakfast burrito. Banana cream pie. Butter.

  They are all missing

  There’s been a massacre

  Kara’s soldiers:

  Fat-free

  Sugar-free

  Reduced

  Lite

  Skim

  Wiped out all my friends

  Not even condiments

  Remain

  I recall

  My love

  Could it survive savage, unprovoked attack?

  Scour area

  Attempt rescue

  No survivors

  Rest in peace,

  Apple-wood bacon

  Flash of red packaging

  Resembles my lover’s face

  A prayer

  A hope

  Fragile but real

  Pull in closer

  Oscar Mayer Bacon!

  Turkey bacon?

  All is lost . . .

  Betrayed

  By the time I got to school I was

  Fully enraged

  I plotted various ways to get rid of Kara

  Ways that were

  Painful. Slow. Public.

  Met up with my best friends

  Dash and Boots.

  Told them about

  Horrific event

  Expecting

  Outrage. Anger. Protest.

  M

  A

  R

  C

  H

  E

  S

  Hell no, we won’t go! Hell no, we won’t go!

  Followed by roar of rebels

  Determined not to be subdued by

  Fascist taste-free establishment!

  Um . . . I kind of like turkey bacon

  Dash is right; you should try it

  And the (fat-free) cheese

  Stands . . . alone.

  And Here They Are

  Meet the traitors

  I mean my friends.

  D A S H

  And I became best friends in a matter of minutes

  Two years ago

  First day of school at

  Chester A. Arthur High.

  He walked into homeroom wearing a

  Bedazzled T-shirt that said

  I’m not gay but my blow-up doll is.

  He was sent to the principal’s office

  I would share

  Similar fate

  When

  Teacher made us

  Sit in

  ABC order.

  Shay Summers sits next to arch nemesis

  Kelly Stokes

  K E L L Y

  Is what happens when Beauty sleeps with

  Empty

  We went to the same junior high.

  At face value

  Her face had

  Value

  Her eyes, cobalt-blue orbs of

  Perfect

  Her lips, heart-shaped

  Masterpiece

  Her skin, flawless

  Radiance.

  But Kelly was a road trip to the

  Grand Canyon

  No matter how much it promises to

  Enchant. Amaze. Delight.

  Once you get there

  You realize

  It’s just an empty hole

  She never says anything that doesn’t come out of

  Teen Cosmo

  Popsugar.com

  Never reads anything that doesn’t have

  Super-high-gloss finish

  And

  I’m fairly certain her ego has its own

  Orbit

  Enough, Shay

  Make an effort

  Jump into the chasm . . .

  Why?

  Maybe she was

  Miss Understood

  Cool Chick

  Deep Deep Deep

  D

  O

  W

  N???

  So I Smiled

  Turns out deep down

  Is not that deep

  After all

  Kelly looks at me

  Like I’m a hobo

  Trying to pee on her

  I have done the unthinkable

  She mumbles loud enough for

  E V E R Y O N E

&nbs
p; On the

  P L A N E T

  To hear

  “Quick, get up, Shay! The chair can only hold

  A ton”

  Rage Bubbled

  Up from throat

  Prepared to erupt and melt the smug flesh off her

  Perfectly sculpted bones

  Prepared a litany of profanity that would make any

  Truckers. Sailors. Mobsters.

  Proud

  I SHOUTED

  “The Grand Canyon is just a hole!”

  What???????

  Where’s the alphabet soup

  Of curses?

  The string of profanity that’s supposed to wrap

  Itself around her neck till she turns

  Blue?

  The Only Color in the World Now

  Is tomato red

  Spreading across my cheeks

  Hands

  Are frozen

  Shaking

  Shivering

  No control over breathing

  Can’t find rock to crawl under

  The teacher sent me

  To the principal’s office.

  There I found

  Dash waiting also

  He was scribbling doodles and letters on scrap paper

  I admired his M

  It could have come out of a penmanship workbook.

  Except he added more loops than were needed

  He said, “That’s me: more loops than needed.”

  I told him about my run-in with

  Kelly Canyon

  The principal/chef

  Served us two boilerplates of

  What-we-expect-from-our-students

  I had a side of glazed

  How-a-lady-should-act

  And Dash had the stuffed

  We-will-not-tolerate-tomfoolery

  For dessert we both had the caramelized

  Next-time-I-will-call-your-parents

  Next morning, Canyon

  Found a magazine cutout of a model

  Taped to her locker

  Someone had made an air bubble above the model’s head

  It said Feed Me

  The M had an extra loop

  Like I said

  Friends for life.

  My Other Best Friend

  And I met at the nurse’s office

  When I was there to avoid

  Gym

  I am the CEO of

  Getting Out of Class Inc.

  My excuses are

  Prompt. Polished. Perfect.

  And what’s more

  I have amazing range

  I’m not like your average

  Teen going AWOL

  I don’t kill off

  Grandmothers or get cramps

  My excuses come complete with

  Actors. Script revisions. Dress rehearsals.

  That day I was faking stomach pains

  Had full written menu

  Of all things that could have caused my

  Pain

  I did the well-rehearsed “brave face” so that they knew how much

  I really wanted to stay in gym class.

  The “suffer in silence face”

  Is the meatloaf and mashed potatoes of excuses

  I saw her as soon as I entered

  She was beautiful. Beaming. Bald.

  She wore

  “Army” everything, including

  Combat boots

  “Punk rocker cool?” I asked.

  “Brain tumor chic,” she said.

  I looked around for a rock to crawl under

  To hide shame

  With no rock to be found anywhere

  I sat a few chairs away from her

  In my head

  I played every sad song

  I ever heard in the

  Someone-I-love-is-dying

  Movie

  Genre

  She stopped my soundtrack

  “Don’t do the sympathy head tilt,” she said.

  “How about the I’m-pulling-for-you shoulder pat?” I asked.

  “No thanks,” she replied.

  She asked what I was in for

  “Shamelessness,” I admitted.

  “Faking it? Yeah, me too,” she lied.

  A smile slid onto my face

  Then I met her eyes

  She wasn’t joking

  The tumor gave her

  Headaches

  She spoke casually about it

  As if she was just asked about the time

  Damn

  I offered her my finest I’m so sorry face

  But something told me she wouldn’t take it

  Pity clashes with her kick-ass boots

  The Three of Us

  Have never figured out how to

  Fit

  Into the puzzle

  Of

  High school

  We suck

  At being like

  Others

  And while we

  Hardly understand

  Self

  It’s all we know

  Homeroom

  Is where I sit and carve short strokes

  On my desk

  Like prisoners do on walls

  Or

  Do math homework I didn’t do the night before.

  The teacher tells us what she thinks we need to know:

  Upcoming

  Trips. Fire drills. Tests.

  She skips what we actually want to hear:

  There

  Is

  No

  Class today.

  (A girl can dream.)

  While I do

  Homework

  That

  Should

  Have

  Been

  Done

  Night

  Before

  I invite you, take a tour

  Inside

  Minds

  Of the student body . . .

  AKA:

  The White Noise

  The Troublemaker

  They can tell I’m wearing the same jeans

  Again

  Punch. Push. Pound.

  Sent off to principal’s office

  Suspension: one week

  Good

  Old jeans will be

  New again

  Head of Audio-Visual

  Chess Club

  Glee Club

  No-One-

  Likes-Me

  Club

  Gonna get good grades

  Lead to great job. Make mad money.

  And buy everyone

  Afterschool Helper

  Make copies. Stock books. Clean board.

  It’s late. “Go home,” she says.

  Smile. Don’t panic.

  “Just a few more copies to make,” I lie.

  “Okay,” she says.

  Relief fills lungs

  Can’t go home

  Can’t go home

  Head Cheerleader

  They love me.

  Love.

  Me?

  When?

  Since teeth bleached, hair dyed

  I died.

  Hours hunting hot trends

  Duties include but not limited to

  Spirit crushing. Ball busting. Soul sucking.

  Others.

  Merely playing the role I was cast in by

  Mom

  Request script change

  New words, same thoughts

  Something peeks out: more words

  Squatting, hiding behind other words

  Yank them from behind, lay them out before my mirror

  I am so lonely, I could die

  Teacher’s Pet

  Oh, oh, me, me!

  Pick me! Pick me! Me!

  I am her eyes in her absence

  I want to do it. I need to do it. I have to do it.
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  Power. Ah, yes. Thank you.

  Um . . . how do you do this?

  Freak

  Ink me.

  Dragons. Demons. Blades.

  Call me.

  Freak. Crazy. Psycho.

  See me.

  Handle. Labels. Easy.

  Why not?

  Damage? Raid? Destroy?

  My home:

  Steady. Solid. Safe.

  Been taught:

  Love

  Is only

  Label that

  Matters

  The Slacker

  They say I am not working hard enough.

  I got dressed. Got on the bus, knowing it was headed for school.

  My work is done.

  Anyway, no one expects much.

  Security Guard

  Hey, kid, you look down. Need a pick-me-up? First fix free . . .

  Five-Finger Discount

  It’s not a cry for help; it’s just the only thing

  I’m good at

  Coach

  That kid’s good, almost as good as I was.

  Back when I . . . was

  Teacher

  She’s late. Again. Bet she doesn’t have her assignment.

  I knew it!

  He’s got the answers, the scores, and the aptitude

  Won’t get girls, though!

  New kid looks high . . .

  I’m low

  On yellow and blue pills

  Wonder who his supplier is . . .

  Bookworm in the corner

  She needs to apply lip gloss or

  Prep for life of cats, ratty sweaters, and can of soup for one

  Oh, look who didn’t cut class today

  Guess all the girls have been deflowered

  Lucky his dad’s got old money and new cars

  Principal

  Love kids

  Taught them for years

  Promoted. Promoted. Principal.

  Handle

  Kids

  Paperwork

  That’s Not Everyone

  But I have to get going

  I have to navigate the crowded halls and get to history class

  History: Someone did something back then

  And we’re forced to

  Act like it matters now.

  In a Blur of Facts and Dates

  History passes by

  Head to science

  Mr. Todd has never had a student say anything

  Bad about him, but we keep expecting to see him on those

  Predators-caught-on-tape shows

  His episode would start when he

  Arranges to meet a minor

  Greets her with

  Candy. Six-pack. Hard-on.

  He looks like

  Mr. Rogers

  But the way he fondles the

  Molecule orb sculptures on his desk

  While licking his lips . . .

  Makes me glad I don’t live in his neighborhood.

  English Class Actually Doesn’t Suck

  Putting together a story or reading some great American classic

  Is almost as good as pie

  To think a story could be written so well that it

  Captivated the world, and is still being read centuries later.

  Awesome.

  I wonder if what I have written will last that long.

  Doubt it. A hundred years from now who will want to know that