Once There Was a Fat Girl by Cynthia Baxter

Author:Cynthia Baxter [Baxter, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult Fiction
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1981-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

There was a bowling ball in Martha’s stomach.

Actually, it was more like a candlepin ball: a solid black mass the size of a grapefruit. It was funny, Martha mused, candlepin balls had always seemed so innocuous when she watched Candlepins for Cash on television as she waited for the magic rays of her oven to turn frozen tinfoil into dinner. But now that said sporting equipment was situated in her anatomy rather than on Channel 9, the fun had vanished.

“Tension! Ugh!” she mumbled to the grimy window on the Long Island Rail Road car. She yearned for the peace of a migraine headache or a clenched jaw. This stomach business was getting to be too much.

The candlepin ball joggled up and down as the train chugged on. They always brought out the old Civil War trains around Memorial Day, the relics with the bullet holes in the windows. Each mile was a major accomplishment. Martha thought of the Little Engine That Could. I can, I can. She thought of spending this long Memorial Day weekend with her family. I can, I can.

She stared out the window and watched Long Island speed by. Long Island: a collage of twenty-first-century shopping malls and auto repair shops and corner taverns with names like Dew Drop Inn. Sleaze City, Martha concluded.

She was trying, though. She attempted to ignore her stomachache. She strove to blend in with the other seekers of sun-and-fun that sat primly on the hard seats of the train, occasionally lifting sweaty legs from hot plastic to assure themselves that they had not, indeed, melted into the Naugahyde.

She tried to pretend that she too was going out to her one eighth of a beach house on Fire Island, or to play houseguest to some reluctant host with the bad fortune to own a summer home. She wore the big sunglasses, sported new leather sandals, carried the canvas satchel with the latest issue of New York magazine sticking out of the top. No one would ever guess that she also carried a plastic bag full of fresh green celery. Be prepared. Wasn’t that one lesson she had learned from Irma Gold?

When Martha heard her station called out, she unstuck herself from her seat and filed out with the other passengers. “Have a nice weekend!” beamed the conductor. Martha did not appreciate the enthusiasm of the men in blue. This would not be a nice weekend.

“Home is where the heart is. There’s no place like home. Home, sweet home.” These were Martha’s thoughts as she wandered up and down the platform, dragging her satchel in the heat of high noon. But these adages did little to console her as she caught sight of her parents’ car. Mrs. Nowicki and Susan waved enthusiastically, big smiles plastered on their faces. Susan’s little son simply drooled. Martha admired his sincerity.

Instead of drooling, however, Martha opted for a big smile of her own. “Hi!” she called gaily, sauntering over to the blue Oldsmobile.

“Martha! How good to see you!” Mrs.

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