Fat Angie by e. E. Charlton-Trujillo

Author:e. E. Charlton-Trujillo [Charlton-Trujillo, e. E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-7636-6373-5
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Published: 2013-04-28T07:00:00+00:00

It was a Monday. It was cold and damp, and by all accounts the heat was on the fritz in the Hornets’ Nest gymnasium. Fat Angie’s fingers ached, but the soreness of her somewhat lighter body fell by the wayside. She stood, shoulders back, eyes steady on the huddles of girls waiting to try out for the varsity team. She stood alone, basking in the glory that her gym shorts were not as tight. Her biceps were chiseled into a shape that popped when she flexed. Her chin failed to double so easily when she looked forward. Fat Angie may not have had a body worth promoting according to any number of fashion magazines on the market, but it was a healthier, stronger, and, quite honestly, ready-to-kick-ass-and-take-names body.

With her sister’s photo in the back pocket of her shorts, carefully sealed in the plastic photo protector of her Velcro wallet, Fat Angie was bigger and badder than ever. Nothing could keep her from making the team.

Well, almost nothing.

In expensive high-top sneakers and name-brand socks, Stacy Ann Sloan stepped on the court. Stacy Ann had played JV basketball the year before, her freshman year. She had been a thing to watch. It was only natural for her to gun for a spot on the varsity squad. Until that moment, Fat Angie had blocked out the natural order of such things.

Fat Angie’s palms were damp and clammy, and they left a noticeable streak of wet on her hair as she brushed it away from her face.

Stacy Ann crossed the court toward Fat Angie, who nervously shifted her stance. It seemed to be the makings of a throw-down. In a battle of the good, the bad, and the fat, Stacy Ann seemed to have the upper hand. With beauty and athletic prowess in Stacy Ann’s favor, Fat Angie would seem to have no chance of outshining the star of the William Anders JV basketball team in gunning for one of those two coveted varsity spots.

As Stacy Ann’s eyes zeroed in on those of Fat Angie, she said, “Get off my court, Fatso.”

Fat Angie’s fingers fluttered at her side as if readying to reach for a weapon of mass destruction — the Swiss Roll squished in her shorts pocket. A weapon useless against the anorexic-in-training Stacy Ann, whose lips only touched romaine salads sprinkled with Craisins prepared by her Lexus-driving mother, a woman who most people thought was living well beyond her means. Though Fat Angie had never questioned why. Her mind was distracted by that for 4.7 seconds as she stared at the timer on her Casio calculator watch.

“What?” asked Stacy Ann.

Fat Angie was ripped back into reality by the shrillness of Stacy Ann’s question. A girl whose sweet tooth was soothed only by four extra packets of Splenda on her Cheerios and two twenty-ounce Diet Cokes per day.

She was, by all standards of high-school girls, healthy.

Coach Laden, who had been otherwise occupied in the equipment room, stepped on the court and blew her silver whistle with flair.

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