It’s been a few weeks since the football game. West Creek High won district finals and football is now over for the season. Come to think about it, football is now over for Matty and Kameron entirely unless they choose to pursue it. Kameron could not be happier. Matty, on the other hand, has been falling further and further away from me and I can’t help but wonder if it’s the pressure from his dad. The only time I get to hang out with him is when he chooses and that seems to only be after hours, when all we do is talk about his mom and then fool around. I’ve started distancing myself on the latter because it’s not the same anymore. He’s occupying his thoughts with my body instead of dealing with his pain head on. I’ve been trying to give him the benefit of the doubt because of all that he is going through with his mom, but when he only decides to be near me for those reasons, it makes me put up walls. Ones that I thought I had already knocked down. His dad’s words constantly echo through my head, and if I don’t stop letting them get to me, I may not be able to even look at Matty. I wish he would prove to me that he actually wants me in his life. If not as his girlfriend, then at least as a friend. These days, he doesn’t even tell me hello in the halls.

I stare at his text on my phone, and despite the agony, I feel my insides flutter only to then fall to the pit of my stomach and die. Have I become a booty call? Isn’t that what they call people in my situation? Matty hasn’t hung out with me aside from those mere late nights in weeks, yet I got a scandalous Snapchat last night and now this.

“What’s wrong?” Kameron asks. I look up from across my position at the foot of his bed and read his concerned expression.

“Nothing,” I say and throw my phone down on the mattress between us. He reaches over to his nightstand and grabs his bookmark, settling it between his unread and read pages.

“Lie to me again,” he states. I sit up and rest my back against the wall, letting out a sigh. For once, Colleen Hoover isn’t distracting me from my real-world problems.

“I did something stupid and now I’m in a situation I don’t want to believe I’m in,” I tell him bluntly. He straightens and leans forward, bringing his legs into the crisscrossed position.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I can handle it.”

“But it’s weird.”

“I’m the weirdest.”

I let out a deep sigh. I’m not going to win.

“Things happened between Matty and me, and now he’s ignoring me.”

I feel the shift in the room. Kameron tries to hold a blank face, but his eyebrows furrow and his nostrils flare. I thought he would’ve at least known something about us by now.

“What did you do?” he asks, almost softly, but remains expressionless.

“Things that friends don’t do,” I reply, almost ghostly.

“And what’s he doing about it?”

I think for a moment, and defeat finds me as the answer dangles in front of my face.

“Nothing?” I reply questioningly, knowing it’s a lie.

“That’s why you just threw your phone?” he pushes.

“I didn’t throw my phone,” I object.

“You didn’t put it down nicely either,” he contradicts.

I stare at him for a moment and my heart rate accelerates. A film grows over my eyes, almost as if I have betrayed him and I know it’s for having sex with Matty. I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do. Kameron’s eyes grow with sorrow, concern, and something that lies deeper, awaiting me to argue with him.

“It’s awkward and he’s your best friend, so I feel weird telling you.”

“As his best friend, I can probably give you advice on his terminology.”

Pondering for a second, I know he’s right. I should just show him.

“He sent me something… distasteful on Snapchat last night and today his text makes me believe he’s only wanting to see me for one thing.”

“What does the text say?” he asks with full concern.

“Kameron,” I say, almost sounding defeated.

“Mya.”

He holds my eyes until I sigh and pick my phone back up. What do I really have to lose? Kameron has become such a true friend to me, and he’s right; he has a greater insight on what Matty means when he says things. He knows him better than I do and he’s probably going to be the only way I get answers.

Taking in a deep breath, I read the text aloud: “Are you doing anything tonight? I’d love to see you… It’s been a while, and something tells me you’re feeling exactly what I’m feeling. I could use a stress relief. Let me know.”

Kameron closes his eyes and brings his hand up to pinch his nose.

“What?” I ask when he remains silent. “I knew it, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, it’s not that. He’s doing exactly what you think he’s doing and I’m just angry at him for saying that to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He wants sex, Mya. Nothing more.”

I knew that was coming. I knew that’s what this meant. But why does it hurt so bad to hear Kam clarify that? I thought I was worth more than “just sex.” If I wanted to be that girl, I may as well have chosen someone else who wouldn’t be a daily reminder that I gave up the one thing about myself I was responsible for.

It’s because of my body, isn’t it? My entire life has been centered around my appearance and deep in my heart, I know I’m not enough because of the extra weight I can’t ever seem to lose. His dad points it out every chance he gets and now Matty has let him take over his thoughts.

No one understands it. I don’t even understand it. I diet, I exercise, I starve myself and then give up only to repeat the cycle a week later. I’ve tried calorie deficits and nutrition coaches. I’ve tried all of what society believes will make me thin, but it doesn’t work. I have a condition that isn’t treatable. I have something genetically fighting me. I could not eat for twenty-four hours and still gain weight. I have PCOS and no matter how hard I try to get rid of it, I will always have it and it will always put me in situations like this; fighting who I am for the girl I wish I could be. Matty is ignoring me because he would never date me. He will never admit to sleeping with me. He likes me behind closed doors yet will never publicly announce wanting to be with me aside from our estranged friendship. He got what he wanted from me and now I’m nothing more than another girl that let her standards fall for a chance to be with Matty fucking Edwards.

“Mya?” Kameron says.

“You’re right,” I sigh, picking a painting on the wall to stare at. My eyes focus on the inscribed quote at the bottom. I read it over and over, trying to find an escape for the situation I’m in. “Take the quiet, respect the stillness.” I think of my childhood. I think of eight-year-old Mya who was told she wasn’t ever going to amount to anything by one of her cousins because she wasn’t beautiful. I think of the argument eight-year-old Mya screamed to defend herself because she knew she was beautiful. I think of all of her other cousins joining in the mockery and laughing as her self-esteem circled down the drain, never to be recovered because they fat shamed her. I think of the nick names, the jokes, the hatred. I can hear all of their voices as they teased an innocent child.

“Fat ass.”

“Lazy ass.”

“Lard ass.”

“Miss Patty, the fatty, Jackson.”

I think of eight-year-old Mya running away from home only to get lost and finding herself in the midst of a thunderstorm, seeking shelter under the interstate bridge. I think about how she cried and cried, begging God to end her life because she couldn’t take the criticism. I think about how this eight-year-old girl pressed her hands to her ears and finally, just briefly, she heard the silence she awaited her whole life for. I think about the boy’s hand who was waiting, stretched out like he knew her his whole life when she sought to open them. I think of the bright green irises. They hold the same fierceness then as they do right now. The only different is the age that has ceased the time in between. I think about the way he looked at me, awaiting my hand as if I was going to take it. I think about his phrase that has stuck with that eight-year-old girl her entire life. “Quiet is peaceful.” I think of the first time I ever laid eyes on Kameron Clarke and how much he’s always been there for me. I think of the eight-year-old girl who poured her heart out to a stranger and to this day how that stranger has never once mentioned that moment to anyone because I begged him not to.

Letting reality take control, I reply. “You’re so right and I can’t believe I was ever foolish enough to think someone hot would ever find me attractive.”

“You are attractive, Mya. I don’t know why you think you’re not. Matty is just an imbecile and has been for some time now.”

“No, Kam,” I protest. “I’m not. I’m fat, and despite how much personality I have or how well I can craft makeup, I’m always going to have that flaw.”

“Your weight isn’t a flaw,” he snarks in my defense.

“Yes, it is.”

“Says who?”

“Says society. Says the reason I’ve never had a boyfriend nor will ever find someone who loves me for me. Physical appearance is everything in this generation and I will never make it out on top being the size I am.”

The room goes quiet. I stare at him as his eyes budge at me.

“Wow,” he comments after a moment.

“Save your breath,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m irritated and I’m taking it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, moving towards me on the mattress. “It’s how you feel. You should never be sorry for how you feel.”

I look at him momentarily. Here I am complaining about my own problems and I have never once asked Kameron about his own.

“How are you perfect?” I bluntly ask without second thought. In all honesty, Kameron is perfect in ways most of us would die for.

“I’m far from perfect,” he replies.

“You always know what to say,” I counter, letting him know his words are too kind to me.

“I’m human too. I have feelings. I bend and I break. I’m realistic and I view things from the outside looking in. I see your side of the story, but I also see mine.”

His emotion is written on his face. His eyes tell the side of the story I’m missing. Looking at him, I feel some sort of wall I’ve built in my heart from the years of humiliation come tumbling down. He is too kind to me. He always understands and never judges me for my rants. He is realistically the definition of perfection and whoever gets the privilege of loving him will always be treasured beyond belief.

“Hear me out when I say this, Mya. You are beautiful. Not only on the inside, but on the outside as well. You have true beauty. Something my mom used to tell me was the rarest of all. So what? You’re a little curvier than a lot of the girls our age, but I guarantee you most of them would die to have curves like yours. You have freckles that shine the night sky. Each of them is a constellation that connects to the other to create a galaxy. You are infinite in your own way and Matty is a fucking idiot if he cannot see your worth. Stop being so concerned on what society presumes is a standard and start living as if society is just sleeping on the value of one of the rarest types of diamonds of all.”

My nostrils flare to refrain from letting the tears fall down my face. I blink rapidly, but they come anyways. I see sadness drift across Kameron’s face. He reaches his hand towards my cheek, but I stop him. Instead, I pull him forward and I tightly wrap my arms around his abdomen. He doesn’t reject me. He embraces me in a hug that feels like it is meant to last forever.

I close my eyes and let the tears continue to stream out. Every harsh comment, every disturbing look, every malicious threat that has ever been posed because of my body slowly eases from my shoulders and drifts into the open air above us. I feel the relief that I didn’t know I was longing to find. I am one of a kind and no matter how much I try to meet society’s set standards, I will never make it out in one piece unless I stop caring exactly what society thinks. I am Mya Jackson and at the end of the day, there will only ever be one of me, fat or not. I screwed up and let someone in that I thought I could trust, but the truth was he was after one thing. He got it and now I’m just back to being a ghost of a girl that was once important in his life. It was never about rekindling our friendship. Matty Edwards is hiding something that I can’t quite figure out. If it is shame, it wouldn’t surprise me, but if it is, I never want to speak to him again.