The Downside of Being Charlie by Jenny Torres Sanchez Page A

“Hey, Sport? We’re okay, right? You know, just the two of us?” My stomach drops. I know he’s referring to more than the weirdness that had been hanging between us since summer. I know he’s referring to Mom. This is the closest Dad and I have ever come to really talking about it. But I can’t get into this conversation right now. Not before I go on my first maybe-date with the first girl who has ever shown any interest in me.
    â€œYeah, sure, Dad.” I gulp down the little lump of emotion that has risen in my throat. “We’re fine. But, uh, I really gotta go. I’ll see you later.” I say this and go downstairs before Dad can say anything else.
    I grab my jacket and camera, which I’ve started carrying with me in case I see something cool for Killinger’s project, and head toward school. The night is cool and I crunch through the dried leaves. I’m glad summer is over because it makes me think of fat camp and how I never want to go back there again. I take lots
of deep breaths; the air is cold and helps me wipe out the thought of Dad sitting on my bed by himself. It helps me not to think of the conversation Dad and I would’ve had if I stayed home tonight. I look up at the sky. There’s actually a full moon, so I take out my camera and take a few pictures of it. But Dad’s words still linger in my mind. Just the two of us. What did he mean? I think he was asking me if I was okay with things being this way forever. Was I?
    I arrive at school, but no one’s there yet, so I sit on the bench and wait, forcing myself to think of anything but Mom and Dad.
    I’ve never been to school at night. I’ve never been to a football game or a basketball game . . . ever. I look around and kick at the floor, thinking I must be the only kid in high school to never have gone to one extracurricular event in his whole high school career. Ahmed goes all the time to these school functions because he says he has to make an appearance for the ladies. But me? No way. I can’t get into a sports game because who am I rooting for? Kids who don’t give two shits about me? Kids who have whispered behind my back for the last three years every time I had to squeeze out of a desk and slosh up the aisle to get a paper from some stupid teacher who obviously doesn’t understand what it is like to have thirty pairs of eyes stare at your fat ripples? I couldn’t be part of it. I look toward the hall where my locker is, and Tanya’s gross face pops into my head. I wonder if that’s how she feels, too. Does that mean I’m like her?
    No, we’re nothing alike because Tanya Bate is at
home reciting lines to the latest Lord of the Rings movie and I’m here. This is what life is like when you’re normal, when you’re one of them.
    I look at my watch. It’s fifteen minutes past the time we were supposed to meet. Where are they? Another five minutes tick by. There’s no way I could have possibly gotten the wrong night. Kids with costumes had rung my doorbell. It was definitely Halloween. Did I get the wrong time? A sinking feeling suddenly comes over me; this is a joke. My God, they’ve pulled the ultimate loser prank. Ask the prettiest girl in school to ask out the fat kid—or formerly fat kid—and see if he shows up. I look around to see if anyone is spying on me. My chest tightens.
    Suddenly, a whooping sound and girls’ laughter comes from somewhere deep in the maze that is our school. Oh no . It gets louder and I easily make out Charlotte’s voice, having memorized every pitch and timber of it. Soon five figures emerge—Charlotte, Mark, Danny with his on-again/off-again girlfriend, Trisha, who is loud and obnoxious and a little scary, and another girl wearing a lot of makeup and really tight clothes who I assume must be Diana, but . . . they’re not pointing at me or saying he fell for it, oh my God, he