How fat you are!

An excerpt from the start of a novel, 'How Fat You Are!' that I wrote back in 1992 when I was 11 (posted for my Dad).

'Are you listening to me, Rebecca Adley?' asked Mrs Barion. I was looking out of the window through at form 9B, especially at David Ontillo, who is very handsome. I am in form 9L. 'I said, Rebecca Adley are you listening to me?' repeated Mrs Barion sternly. I turned around and saw her staring at me. She has brown eyes and brown hair, and wears brown clothes and brown shoes. 'What have I been talking about right now?' she enquired, looking down her nose at me.

'Erm, sorry but I don't know what you have been talking about,' I replied truthfully.

Mrs Barion sounded disappointed, 'If you do not pay attention next time, you will get detention Rebecca. Now, Amanda, please tell Rebecca what I was talking about'.

I absolutely loathe Amanda. She gave me a sly look. 'Mrs Barion just said that next week we are going to cover a topic on health and fitness. On Monday, Mrs Drillon (our school nurse) will come in and give our class a few tests. She will measure our height and waists, weigh us, see how much we eat, and how much exercise we do and...' However, by then, I was no longer listening. 'This will be interesting,' I thought, but little did I know how wrong you could be.

On the way home from school with Stacey, I asked her if she would like to stop at the newsagents with me, and she agreed. We bought a tape measure so that we could check ourselves before Monday. As usual, on Fridays we stopped off at Stacey's because Mum doesn't get back home from work until five. As soon as we arrived, we raced upstairs. 'Take your shoes off!' called Stacey's mum.

I went downstairs and took my shoes off. Stacey could not be bothered, and she yanked them off her feet and chucked them downstairs, one of them hitting me.

'Sorry Becky!' she yelled. I ran back upstairs again, and went into her room. I have always envied Stacey's room, as it is really pretty with stripey wallpaper, and fluffy peach carpet. When I was eight, I chose contrasting black, grey and red wallpaper, but I now regret it. Mum says that it is very grown-up, and that I will soon get used to it, but I doubt that. I think it is just that she cannot be bothered to buy new wallpaper, or tidy my room for me, like Stacey's mum does for her. Sometimes I wish that my mum was more like Stacey's. 'Shall we measure our height and waists?' asked Stacey.

'OK, ' I agreed, picking up the tape measure. First we measured height and Stacey and I were exactly the same. 'Great!' I exclaimed.

Next, Stacey measured her waist. 'Your turn now,' she said cheerfully.

I measured myself discreetly, 'Oh no!'

'What's wrong?' asked Stacey.

'Nothing.'

'Is it that you are fatter than me?' I have never lied and I did not want to break my record, so I did not answer her. She grabbed the tape measure and put it around me.

'Gracious, Rebecca, you are four whole inches fatter than me!' exclaimed Stacey in her loudest voice.

'I am not!' I replied, trying hard not to cry.