Chapter 8: Outcast

After that day, not only the study committee member, but all the boys in the class avoided me even more. The girls weren't willing to talk to me either.

I could feel it—whispers behind my back, the way conversations paused when I walked by. Even the girls who’d sometimes talk to me about TV shows turned away.

Everyone likes cheerful, sunny people. But I'm gloomy by nature. Like a biscuit that never rose—neither good-looking nor tasty, destined to be left in the corner.

The cafeteria seemed colder. My locker, lonelier. The isolation stung worse than any insult.

Even so, I never thought about losing weight again. The only time I tried was because my crush on Jason was stronger than the lure of good food. But now, I didn't like him anymore.

The resolve was real this time. I wouldn’t diet for anyone. Not for a boy. Not for my grandma. Not even for myself, if it meant hurting this much.

After holding back tears all day, I thought a Starbucks cake pop might make me feel better. But it didn't.

The pink frosting and sprinkles didn’t even taste sweet. I threw the wrapper in the trash, feeling emptier than before.

Turns out, some humiliations can't be fixed by anything.

There are wounds you can’t patch up with sugar, or sleep, or even time. They just sit there, throbbing quietly, waiting to be forgotten.