Unpretty: An Unloved Ones Prequel by Kevin Richey

Chapter One

 
    Sarah takes me by the hand. "Please?" she asks.
    We're in the mall, and we've just passed a store for skinny people. She's seen something in the window she likes, and I'm sure she'll spend about twenty minutes trying it on while I pretend not to feel awkward.
    This is the kind of store that doesn't have a single item of clothing in my size. Sarah barely fits into their largest size. What's worse, I'm not even just imagining that I'm unwelcome here. Even their CEO made a statement that fat people aren't allowed.
    "Um," I say, and she bats her eyes. She has on these fake eyelashes that are too black and too thick for her complexion. Sarah is one of those blonde girls who has to fight to keep a tan. Unlike me. I lost the tan battle long ago, and am happy keeping all of my pale flesh covered from the daylight.
    "It'll just be for a minute. I just want something new for the beach."
    The beach. My stomach churns again. I haven't made up an excuse for the beach yet. "All right," I say. "But we should hurry. The mall closes in an hour."
    Sarah squeals and takes me by the hand, pulling me into the store.
    I can feel it at once: that sense that I don't belong here. I smile and don't show how much I hate this. Sarah doesn't notice, and I really don't want to bring attention to the fact that lately I’ve been hating my body even more than usual.
    Maybe it’s all this talk about the beach.  Or the fact that the reason we’re at the mall is to return the dress I picked out for the beach two months ago, and can no longer fit into. We’re here to exchange it for a larger size.
    If there is a larger size. It’s getting harder and harder to find clothes that fit ever since I passed the 270 pound mark. The fact that I have to wear a dress to the beach instead of anything resembling a bathing suit is also embarrassing.
    Today I'm wearing a hunter green sports sweatshirt and my only pair of jeans that I can still button. My sneakers match, I'll give myself that. But I barely did my hair. It's long and black, and I tied it up in a loose ponytail in the back. I didn't even bother with much makeup today. It's a school day, and I don't really think what I need is makeup. What I need is liposuction.
    Sarah walks through the store, feeling the fabric of items on the rack between her fingers. I keep my hands folded over my stomach. This gesture makes me feel like I am hiding my weight. I don't really believe this. But covering myself, in any way whatsoever, makes me feel less anxious about people seeing me.
    We live in Daytona Beach, and staying covered is growing more obvious the closer it gets to Spring Break. It’s only a week away now, and I’m the only one still wearing long sleeves.
    "Ooooooh!" Sarah coos. She has found a red skirt and holds it up. It dangles like a washcloth from the hanger. "I’m going to go try it on," she says. I plaster a smile on my face. I am sure I look reassuring. Not bothered at all. Even though looking at the skirt, at its small size, at something that I couldn't even fit one leg through—it makes me die a little inside. I blink and say as cheerfully as I can, "Cute!"
    Sarah shows the skirt to an attendant who lets her into a changing room. The attendant, a girl around twenty-five who looks about as good as the girls on the advertisements in the store, gives me a quick glance and then looks away. She knows that I'm not here to shop. How could I be? It hurts, but I pretend not to notice as she ignores me completely, and goes back to folding clothes so small that I swear they’re for babies.
    I lean against the wall next to Sarah's changing room. "Katherine," she mumbles after a minute, "come in here." The door to the room opens, and I step forward. I don't actually go inside the little booth. I don't think we'd both fit in there. But my body effectively blocks the view from anyone that might pass by.
    Sarah is squeezed into the little red skirt. It's very tight around her waist, and looks like