Biggie by Derek E. Sullivan

questions. He should have forced Mom to leave the room before this inquisition.
    â€œBut I haven’t had a Mountain Dew in days.” I try to save the situation and stop the crying. “All I drink is water and juice. I’m in training.”
    Dr. Pence gets a box of tissues for Mom. “Henry, come in Monday for the test. You will need to fast for six hours before. Kari, if the results come back positive, we’ll have to meet again and talk about treatment.”
    Mom blows her nose and nods.
    â€œHenry, I truly hope the results come back negative and this training you’re talking about works,” he says. “I’m going to tell you what I tell every one of my obese young patients.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œThe last thing I want to do is attend your funeral.”

Chapter 12
    Stipulations
    It’s weird when someone discusses your death. Sitting at the convenience store, all I can think about is diabetes.
    Although I don’t feel sick, I decide to not eat any junk food and I’m only drinking bottled water. There is nothing to get you off the Dew like hearing your gray-haired doctor say he will be going to your funeral.
    As I start to feel completely depressed at my unraveling life, a bright light walks into the store: Annabelle. She skipped school today, so this is the first time I’ve seen her since she accepted my follow request at three in the morning. So even though I’ve known her since I was five and have been in love with her since I was twelve, this is the first time we’ve officially been friends.
    She grabs her Lo-Carb Monster drink and picks up a Kit Kat. I guess she’s going to buy it. My boss would hate that I’m bummed she doesn’t steal anymore. It was our thing. She drops the junk food on the counter.
    â€œThree twenty-five,” I say, breaking my routine of not saying the total out loud. She pulls out a five and I count out her change. I should say something. We’re online friends now. I should ask her about her day, her clothes, working at Molly’s, something. She takes the dollar bill and three quarters and puts them in her small purse, black with a red flower, cuter than the massive tub-sized one she carries sometimes. Time’s running out. I need to say something. What are friends if they don’t talk to one another? I don’t know, but they aren’t friends. Biggie, say something .
    â€œI was surprised you were up.” That’s what my head came up with. I’m an academic genius, and what my wonderful and well-disciplined brain told my lips to say is I was surprised you were up . Wow! I hope she walks out the door.
    â€œWhat?” She turns and looks at me confused. Annabelle must have come in here a hundred times and never heard a word of small talk, so I don’t blame her for wondering what the hell is going on today.
    â€œYou accepted my follow request at three in the morning,” I say. “I guess I thought you would be asleep.”
    She leans back against the glass, placing enough pressure to open the door a sliver. “I wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t sleep. That’s why I wasn’t in school.”
    â€œWell, thanks for approving me,” I say.
    Just when I think she’s going to walk out and head off to work, she steps forward.
    Stand up straight and look her in the eye. She wants to talk. We’ve practiced this.
    â€œDoes your house really have an indoor baseball field?” she asks.
    Oh. She wants to chat about Mom’s house. I release a breath of both relief and disappointment. “Well, it’s really just a baseball diamond under a tall roof. You only have to hit the ball one hundred twenty feet to reach the wall.”
    â€œWow, that’s cool,” she says. “Can I get a tour?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œMy aunt is teaching me all about the family business and she wants me to write some practice listings and