Dyamonde studied Damaris day after day, watching to see if she would skip the french fries or the chicken nuggets or the pizza when those foods turned up on the lunch menu. But Damaris never did.
I’m still worried, thought Dyamonde, eyeing her friend in class. She’s still not comfortable with herself.
Dyamonde knew she was right. She’d noticed that Damaris had stopped wearing belts and always seemed to be trying to stretch out her shirts so they would come farther down over her hips. She may not be on a diet, thought Dyamonde, but she’s still not happy. Dyamonde wasn’t sure what to say or do about it, though.
“Well, Dyamonde?” said Mrs. Cordell. “Can you tell me the answer?”
Dyamonde looked up at her teacher, blinking.
“I’m sorry?” said Dyamonde.
“You should be,” said Mrs. Cordell. “Try to pay atten—”
Just then, the bell went off, signaling a fire drill.
“All right, class,” said Mrs. Cordell. “Line up. Quickly!”
In all the rush and shuffle, Damaris and Amberline ended up side by side. Right away, Damaris sucked in her stomach and stood a little straighter. Damaris didn’t want anybody calling her Miss Piggy just because she was next to Amberline.
Damaris wanted to talk to Amberline, to ask her if she really didn’t care when kids called her fat or if she was just pretending. Damaris wanted to ask Amberline lots of things, but Amberline kept her mouth shut tight and looked straight ahead as if Damaris wasn’t even there.
Why is Amberline like that? Damaris wasn’t sure if she’d ever know.
The class marched outside and stood for a few minutes, fidgeting, until the bell rang for them to go back to their classrooms.
On the way in, Dyamonde heard a scream.
“That’s Damaris!” whispered Dyamonde, following the voice. She saw her friend kneeling on the sidewalk, bent over someone lying still on the ground. As Dyamonde got closer, she saw that the someone was Amberline.
“Get the nurse!” ordered Damaris. “Hurry!”