Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I decide to shoot her quick text.
Sry babe. Too hungry to wait. Meet you in the café!
She will most definitely understand. Jessie is really a great friend, and she gets my intense love of food because she’s also a curvy girl. I couldn’t have asked for someone better to get me through university.
I head to the cafeteria and get in line. I am so hungry. All the food laid out beneath the sneeze glass has my belly rumbling. I start piling it on to my tray, one dish after another. My eyes are probably bigger than my stomach, but that’s irrelevant. Right now, I just need sustenance bad.
I end by picking up two peanut butter and jellies right before paying. The sandwiches were just sitting there, looking so delicious, tempting me with their crusty, golden crusts and oozing red jam. Even with all the food already on my tray, the craving was so strong and so sudden that I had to grab them. A sandwich is really going to hit the spot. Just imagining the nutty taste combined with that fruity goodness had me salivating in line.
I finish putting away my wallet and find an empty table. Jessie still isn’t here, but I know she’ll stroll in soon. Her class lets out about ten or so minutes after mine, so she’ll see my text and head down.
I may as well start eating, though. My stomach is making way too much noise for me to just keep staring at all this food, and it all looks so good.
I begin unwrapping one of my sandwiches when I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s probably Jessie, ready to give me a piece of her mind for not being able to wait just five minutes. Smiling, I turn my head
“Sorry, I didn’t–,” I say, stopping when the person standing behind me isn’t my best friend. Instead, I come face-to-face with Cindy Parson, queen of the mean girls.
I don’t like to think of her as my mortal enemy because that kind of thinking feels quite ungodly to me. Part of what gets me through my days is the power of prayer, and I don’t want to ruin my efforts to be good by dwelling on bad thoughts. Hopefully though, my devotion will get me through these next few moments, which I can already tell are going to be challenging.
“What are you sorry for, Mira?” Cindy asks, condescendingly.
“Nothing,” I mumble. “That wasn’t meant for you.”
I’ve never understood why Cindy dislikes me so much, but ever since our first day of classes, she’s had it out for me. I honestly think the only thing I’ve ever said to her was “hi.” Maybe she felt like it was a sassy hi, and has hated my guts ever since.
Even more appalling, I always thought this clique-y bullying business was part of high school, and that I’d leave it all behind when I went on to college. At least, that’s what all the books I read said. People were finally going to be able to spread their wings to find their footing, and give up their need to taunt others. It’s all rooted in insecurity, said the books, and I believed it fervently. But so far, those books haven’t been accurate.
“Whatever, it’s unimportant,” Cindy says while waving her hand dismissively. “However, I see you haven’t taken my advice.”
Judy, Trish and Pia, part of the mean girls’ clique, snicker behind her. They’re all carbon copies of one another, and Cindy is their leader. Perfect Cindy with her long, straight blonde hair, her make up always perfectly done, and that sickly sweet smile.
“What advice?” I ask hesitantly. I certainly don’t remember anything. She lets out a loud, theatrical sigh.
“You know that bread makes you fat, right? They’re carbs and your body doesn’t process carbs well. But I guess you’re not really worried about that, are you? Too little, too late?”
“I, um…”
“You’re literally just eating sugar and fat with all that peanut butter and jelly. The jelly is the sugar and the peanut butter is the fat. In fact, everything on your plate is just going to make you bigger. Like, you don’t need any more of that in your body. Come on, Mira. Aren’t you tired of being disgusting? You have to be. I would be if I looked like you.”
I have no idea what to say. What am I supposed to say? Whichever way I answer her question, it’s going to make me look like an idiot. And this faux concern she’s preaching is getting on my nerves. I don’t think I could form a coherent comeback even if I wanted to.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” one of Cindy’s cronies titters.
“I don’t know, I just like PB&Js, I guess,” I shrug, trying to look nonchalant. That’s all I can think of in reply. But also, it is really that simple. I like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, so I got two. Why can’t they accept that and leave me alone? Would it be different if I preferred ham and cheese?