HEADMASTER BRADFORD HAD MOVED today’s pep rally into the auditorium so we could have more seating, and when I peeked out from behind the backstage curtain, I could see why. My parents weren’t the only ones there—Merritt’s family and Kai Rush’s billionaire father, along with a few schoolboard members joined the audience as well.
My phone vibrated inside my pocket, and I stepped back to check it.
Gayle – Seaton Bakery: We’re in the parking lot. Knock ‘em dead, sweetheart.
I gulped and put my phone in my pocket.
“Feeling nervous?” my mom asked from near the curtains.
I jerked, surprised she had made it to me so quickly. “Yeah,” I admitted. She gave me a short squeeze. This affectionate mother-daughter relationship was new to both of us, but I was beginning to like it. She
stepped back and rubbed my arm. “Just be you. That’s all you have to do.”
The message behind her words struck me. My mom was saying I was good enough—good enough to step in front of hundreds of people, other students and some of the most influential people at the academy to be completely myself. I reached out for another hug and only broke apart when microphone feedback squealed through the auditorium.
Mrs. Bardot’s voice came over the speaker system, and Mom said, “I’m going to sit with your dad.” She smiled and cupped my cheeks. “Good luck.”
She scurried past the curtains, and I took a deep breath, listening to Mrs. Bardot talk about Emerson Academy’s zero-tolerance policy (except when
it came to Merritt Alexander). And then she called us to the stage, Merritt, Beckett, and me.
A hushed murmur went through the crowd. One person tried to clap, but they were alone in that effort. The second I stepped out, the stage lights glared in my eyes, and I squinted against the brightness to see Mr. Davis in the sound and lighting studio. He gave me a thumbs up.
Then I turned my gaze back to the stage, toward two less friendly faces. Merritt sent me a grin like a lion might bare its teeth at a gazelle before ripping it to shreds. Beckett ignored me altogether. I’d take a hundred lion- Merritts just to see his smile turned on me again.
I sat in one of the three chairs, and once we were all settled, Mrs. Bardot continued speaking from behind a podium with the Academy’s seal. “While the behavior at the homecoming game was not acceptable, these three students want to show you who Emerson Academy really is. We are ad meliora. Always striving toward doing and being better, and I am so proud of them for being the perfect example of that. We’ll let Merritt Alexander, our head cheerleader and student council social chair, start us off.”
Merritt turned her smile on full wattage as she stood and took the microphone. Mrs. Bardot took to the wings and folded her hands, watching us eagerly. Boy, was she about to be disappointed.
The clack of Merritt’s heels stalled in front of the podium, and she grinned at the audience like she was giving a presidential speech or leading yet another cheer. Her breath sounded throughout the auditorium, and then she said, “I would like to offer my sincerest apologies to Beckett Langley and Rory Hutton. What started as an innocent comment about the importance of a healthy diet and exercise quickly spiraled out of control into a bet on Beckett’s heart.”
An innocent comment about healthy diets? I let out a quiet snort. Merritt’s comments might as well have worn an orange jumpsuit and sold smokes in the yard for how innocent they were.
She turned and smiled at Beckett and me. “Beckett, I’m sorry that Rory and I agreed to those terms, and Rory, I’m sorry the student body reacted so poorly to your win. The cupcakes were meant to be celebratory, but I can see now they fell short of that mark.” She turned back and grinned evilly, letting me know they hit their target just as she had planned. “And to you, my fellow EA students, I’m sorry this is taking you away from the pep rally
we had planned. But we can still keep our school spirit intact. Go, Drafters! Go, Drafters!”
The crowd started chanting with her and continued even after she flounced to her seat in the front row. Beckett kept his gaze forward, a tight smile on his lips but only stress in his eyes, revealing the truth: that he would rather be anywhere but here.
Mentally, I begged him to look at me. To give me some sign that within the guy I loved there was a possibility for forgiveness. But I’d have to go off of blind faith. That somehow he would see my heart and know it was his.
Mrs. Bardot adjusted the mic stand and settled the crowd, then turned to me. “You’re up,” she said, so only I could hear. Then she gave me a wink and the platform I needed to say what I had to say.
I stood, my heart hammering in my chest, my legs feeling like they hadn’t walked before, my hands shaking. I reached out and grasped the podium to steady my hands, and then I squinted through the bright lights to see the crowd. I spotted my brother. My dad and mom. Then I saw the girls sitting together—Callie, Zara, Jordan, and Ginger, all with their distrusting eyes on me.
I closed my own eyes, took a breath, and began speaking.
“Hi, everyone. Half of you know me as the girl who ruined our team’s chance at the playoffs and got smothered in cupcakes”—boos ripped through the audience, but I pressed on anyway. “And half of you don’t know me at all,” I pressed on. “My entire time at Emerson Academy, I’ve sat in the front row of class, taken my notes, and been everything I thought my parents and teachers wanted from me.”
“But a month ago, things changed. I came to school after the worst diagnosis of my life. I was told I have PCOS, Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome, which comes with a whole host of fun symptoms like infertility and weight gain. And then, when I sat in health class, I was told by Merritt Alexander and her friends, that because of my size, finding a guy with a good heart along with a good body would be impossible. No one disagreed.”
I scanned the crowd, waiting for the verbal cupcakes to fall, but none came. I took a breath and continued. “You know what happened next. I bet Merritt I could get Beckett Langley to fall for a girl like me, and in the process of proving that I was worthy, someone I’d harbored a crush on for
years got hurt. I’ll never be able to make up for that or the fact that four of the most wonderful girls got hurt in the process.
“These girls wanted to help me. As they taught me to reach my full potential with makeup and clothes that didn’t fit like a tent to hide my curves, I began to learn how incredible they were. I learned that they were brilliant, funny, kind, and amazing friends and motivators, regardless of their waistline or bra size. They. Were. Incredible.”
Zara stared at me hard from the crowd, but the other girls failed to make eye contact. I stared right back at her. “The numbers that come up when they step on a scale have nothing to do with that. And if that’s true, then it means my weight or the size of clothes I wear have no say in how worthy I am of love.”
I met my brother’s eyes where he sat in the third row, and he gave me an encouraging nod.
“Last week, Merritt was announced homecoming queen, and while she deserves the crown, I don’t think she deserves the last word. If you want to see me as the fat girl covered in cupcakes for the rest of your life, I have a food truck outside with enough cupcakes for everyone. You can throw them at me if you want, but if you’re tired of other people deciding that you matter, if you’re tired of counting calories and feeling like you’re not enough, come with me and have one as friends.
“If this whole experience has taught me anything, it’s that you should enjoy the damn cupcake. Life’s too short to skip dessert or pass on telling someone you like them until you’re the right weight or dressed in the right clothes or wearing the right makeup.”
I met Beckett’s eyes and held his stare. “Odds are, they’ll see past all of that and look into your heart like Beckett did for me.”
He shifted his gaze toward the floor, and even with an aching chest, I turned back to the crowd, back to the four girls who’d become my best friends. “This is for you and every other girl who’s never felt good enough. I love you, and you should too.”
I reached into my bag, which still hung around my shoulder, and pulled out a box with the Seaton Bakery logo on it. All the shaking in my hands was gone as I opened it and took a bite of cupcake. I lifted it in the air and walked down the auditorium aisle.
Then the most amazing thing happened. Someone started clapping.
My cheeks warmed as the smattering turned into a roar.
Arms wrapped around my shoulders and stopped me mid-march. Callie.
She’d stood from her aisle seat, ran to me, and held me tight. “You’re amazing.”
Three more pairs of arms joined me, wrapping me in a hug.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to them, but especially to Jordan. “I should have been there for you.”
“We should have too,” Jordan said.
I squeezed them and started back. “What now?”
Zara lifted her fist in the air. “We march.” Then she yelled to everyone in the audience. “WELCOME TO THE CUPCAKE PRIDE PARADE.”
And people actually joined. We led the march, all the way to the parking lot where everyone got a cupcake of their own from the stand Gayle had set up with Seaton Bakery cupcakes.
Aiden cleared his throat behind me, and when I turned to face him, he wrapped me in a hug. “I’m so proud of you, sis.”
More arms surrounded us. My parents.
Mom beamed at me. “Not as proud as we are, right, honey?”
Dad nodded. “Look at this.” He gestured to all the people in the parking lot. “This is exactly what doing right after your mistakes looks like.”
I smiled at him. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Of course.” He grinned. “Now, I better get myself a cupcake.”
After my parents went to the stand, everyone swarmed, congratulating me and patting my back for finally standing up to Merritt.
Everyone except the boy who really mattered.
