Too Big to Fit.

Sydney

Being Sydney Walker had never been easy.

Not when I was little. Not now, as you're reading this.

At first, I was just that antisocial, nerdy girl who never put up her hand in class even when she knew an answer, who never looked anyone in the eye in the hallway, the girl who ran home the second the last bell rang.

Basically, it was just me. No one ever knew I existed at all.

Well, maybe a few people did-when they needed me to switch seats in class, or when the principal needed my attention to "discuss" another late school fee payment.

I was invisible to the entire school.

But then I clocked fourteen, and puberty grabbed the steering wheel of my life.

It happened one random summer. I just woke up and suddenly I needed bigger clothes, bigger underwear, bigger everything.

At school, the walls became too small for me. Every cloth I wore felt like I was exposed-too tight, too transparent.

My skin felt heavier than it used to, like I was carrying something I hadn't signed up for. And I couldn't explain why my body had expanded so suddenly.

Everyone stared.

Boys stared in mockery, girls giggled and whispered in disgust.

And when Chase Monroe, my boyfriend-or so I thought-released pictures of me in a bikini, I prayed I'd wake up one day and find myself on another planet. Or even better, heaven.

But then tragedy struck one rainy evening when my dad was found dead on a far away street.

I had to move.

And for a second, I thought maybe that was my escape. Maybe moving in with my wealthy mother and my half-sister Brooklyn would finally give me a new start.

A new start away from my small town. Away from that trashy school where the kids drew my face on balloons and called me fatty.

But that hope died the moment I walked into Lakeview High with Brooklyn, and she excitedly pulled me to go meet her childhood friend on the basketball court.

"Hey, Tyler!" Brooklyn yelled in her cheerleader uniform.

One boy turned.

"This is Sydney, my sister."

My chest flipped.

'Beautiful' was the only thing my head could cook up as our eyes met. And for a reckless second, I imagined my fingers tangled in his jet black hair.

But that only lasted for a minute as he walked up to me, skillfully spinning a basketball on his finger. One lazy smirk sitting perfectly on his face.

"Sydney Walker, huh?" His eyes moved over me slowly. He snickered. "Wow. Genetics really are wild."

The guys around roared with laughter, like they'd been holding it in. Each one of their voices bouncing off the walls of the almost empty court.

My heart emptied out right there. And I just stood there in my green hoodie that suddenly felt too tight and exposed under Tyler's gaze.

I wanted to let go of Brooklyn's hand and vanish into thin air.

But Brooklyn stepped forward glaring at him. "Cut it out, Tyler. I told you to be nice to her!"

"Relax," Tyler said, still smiling. "I'm just appreciating the scenery."

But his "appreciation" had hit a nerve.

I didn't like Lakeview at all.

"Ignore him," Brooklyn would say every morning while trying to subtly push me into more "fitting" clothes, and I'd decline.

"You're beautiful. You look like Mom. Like me."

But Brooklyn looked nothing like me-save for her dark hair.

And everyone at school agreed with that.

I mean, Brooklyn didn't have stretch marks drawn straight across her thighs, she didn't have to hide behind hoodies and bury her head in books in class to ignore stares.

She didn't have to choose her words carefully, or she'd have to live with being mocked for the rest of the week.

In fact, she was the head cheerleader, someone every girl tried to compete with-wealthy mother, perfectly beautiful, and most of all, slim in the right places.

She was everything I wasn't.

And people at school reminded me of that.

Especially Tyler. Tyler Sinclair.

Somehow I'd be come the subject of every joke that spilled from his lips.

He always had something to say about the slightest things I did. And even worse, he was friends with Brooklyn, and that meant I got to see him almost everywhere.

And each time he told me, "You need to cut down on sugar" or, "People like you don't rush to class. People will think it's a stampede." I felt like screaming, pulling my hair out, and maybe performing surgery on myself so I could get out of this body.

"Why don't you say something?" Brooklyn casually suggested at the dining table one morning. "I mean, maybe he'd stop if you say something back."

Her words had stuck with me all day, and I thought about it. But what could I possibly say to the one guy who made girls at school swoon?

And more importantly, the boy whose mom practically controlled the school.

Well, do you want to know what stupid Sydney did?

I waited.

I waited for the perfect moment, and I finally got the chance one day during the last period before lunch.

And God, I wish I hadn't.

"Alright, class, who can help us solve this?" Mrs Holloway, the algebra teacher, asked.

The class fell silent.

"Anyone? No one?" The woman said again.

I stared at it for some seconds, then copied it into my notebook, trying different formulas to solve it.

But before I could look back up, a pencil shot into the air.

I turned.

Tyler. And he was staring straight at me with that smile that exposed only his bunny teeth.

"Alright, Mr Sinclair. Come help us out."

He peeled his eyes away from me and walked towards the board.

But I kept staring, watching the way his broad shoulders moved, the way his brows drew together, the confidence in his fingers, his hair-

"Done!"

I blinked, my eyes making their way to his final answer.

I frowned, looking down at my own answer.

They were different.

I looked carefully through my formula, then the steps and found nothing wrong.

Tyler was wrong.

'This is my chance,' I'd thought-if only I'd known it was a trap.

Before I could stop myself, something pushed my hand up.

The class turned. The room turned cold.

Even Mrs Holloway shifted on one foot and forced a a smile. "Yes, Miss Walker-our new student."

My heart slammed hard against my ribs, but some kind of audacity had climbed into my hoodie and settled in my full chest.

I could feel every pair of eyes on my skin, every breath. But Tyler's was the most intense.

He looked relaxed where he stood-too relaxed.

"The answer is wrong," I said, my voice thinner than I wanted. "It should be 342.25. Not 322.25."

Silence.

Everyone just stared.

Goosebumps crawled up my spine, but I kept my eyes on the board.

'I'm correct. I know I am.'

Then the bell rang. Chairs scraped, voices rose, and everyone made for the door.

"Alright, class. We'll discuss that in the next class." The teacher called, though no one was listening.

I stayed glued to my seat, my head unable to process what had just happened.

Normally, I'd be glad everyone had just ignored me instead of making a fool of me. But this time, it stung.

This was my revenge plan to pinch Tyler back, and...nothing happened!

I wanted to cry.

My eyes met Tyler's as he walked out of the class. He wasn't embarrassed, wasn't annoyed.

He was smiling.

And in those steel-blue eyes of his, I could tell it was just the beginning.

Sydney

"Okay, rule number one," Maeve said over the noise in the cafeteria. "Don't challenge Tyler Sinclair in algebra."

I tried my best not to look around. "Why? He was wrong."

Maeve picked up a food tray and stopped in front of me. "I'm not blind, Sydney. And no one else in that class was. We all saw it."

I just blinked.

"You should have waited for Mrs. Holloway to correct him." She added.

An uproar broke out from one corner of the room, and my eyes moved before I could stop them.

My gaze landed on Tyler. He was with his basketball teammates, jerseys on, waiting for practice after lunch. And he was staring.

That smirk was back.

"And the fact that he's friends with your sister doesn't give you that liberty. You know that, right?"

'But I was only trying to prove a point.' I almost said.

Instead, I turned to the mini burger and a few sprinkles of fries on my tray as I followed Maeve towards a table.

"What happens when he's challenged?" I asked quietly.

Maeve sat across from me and shrugged. "On the court? They get trashed. But in class...this is the first time he's ever been wrong."

That made my heart skip.

I was just about to take my seat when someone bumped into me from behind as they passed by.

"Oh my God, I'm sorry," I blurted. But the boy didn't even look back.

Then I sat down, aiming to hurry out of school immediately after the last bell. Just in case.

At first, everything was normal. I'd just picked up my burger while Maeve was already halfway through hers, scrolling on her phone.

Then I felt it-cold and liquid beneath me.

I frowned and looked down on the bench.

'No!'

"What's wrong?" Maeve asked, looking up and noticing the distress on my face.

I stood.

A medium-sized ketchup sachet slid off the bench.

'Shit.'

My stomach dropped.

I lifted my head, my eyes straying across the cafeteria.

Tyler was watching me.

Someone laughed.

"Yo, look."

The sound spread before I completely grasped what was going on.

Tyler's lips curled.

"Uh-oh." He called. "Someone get her a jacket."

Laughter exploded through the cafeteria. Even people who hadn't been paying attention turned to look.

My whole body trembled, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from him.

He wasn't laughing, just staring, like he was waiting for my next "smart move".

But I had nothing left in my body, safe for the extra layers of skin I suddenly felt too aware of.

Tears pricked my eyelids and I wished I could melt away.

"Syd, it's okay. Keep it together." Maeve said over the laughter in the room. "It's just some ketchup. It's not that-"

I bolted.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me out of the cafeteria.

"Hey, hey, slow down!" Tyler called after me. "Earthquake!"

The laughter followed me into the empty hallway as I walked towards the bathroom.

Tears burned my eyes.

"Syd!" I heard Maeve yell.

But I didn't stop. I couldn't, not with the ketchup smeared on my black jeans. Not with my chest burning.

Tyler had struck again, and this time he'd made the entire school laugh-well not everyone, but they'd laughed. Not just his teammates this time.

I ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me, pressing my hand against the sink as I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

'Don't cry, Sydney. Don't cry. You've been through worse.'

I shut my eyes, trying to shut out the laughter from my mind.

It all felt like I was back in Newston. Only worse.

The door flew open as I exhaled, and Maeve appeared, her backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Syd, oh my God." She shut the door quickly and rushed to where I was, placing her hand gently on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

I scoffed bitterly. "There's ketchup on my butt. What do you think?"

"Oh God." She dropped her bag and dug through it. "Tyler is such an ass. Ketchup on your chair? All for what?" She pulled out baby wipes. "He wasn't even always like this."

"Earthquake? Really?" She muttered.

I leaned further as she began to carefully wipe away the ketchup. "Well maybe I look like some fat toy to him. Something easy to squeeze."

"No, don't say that, Syd."

"Maybe a joke then. He says it all the time and everyone seems to find it funny."

My throat tightened as I stared at my reflection. "Why do I have to be me? Why do I have to be the other girl? The fat one, the lest attractive one. The joke."

"Syd." Maeve stood close to me. "You know that's not true. Tyler is just being mean because he can, because he wants to. No one sees you as a joke."

"You mean you and Brooklyn?"

Maeve brushed away my words. "I'm sure Tyler is actually angry that you challenged him in class. That's a good thing, isn't it? At least now he knows what it feels like to feel like a fool."

That should have comforted me. But it didn't. It could never.

Tyler had still won and he was going to keep winning unless I woke up as a completely different person.

I'd only proved that I was some fat nerd, and Tyler had proved that I could never make him feel bad.

I was the one crying in a bathroom again.

"There's no point, Maeve." I said. "Tyler will always win. And I'll just be...Sydney, Brooklyn's forgotten sister."

"Forgotten?" Maeve threw a hand over my shoulders. "No. You are Sydney Walker. A girl too good for this goddamn school."

The door swung open, and we both turned.

Brooklyn walked in, pom-poms in hand.

"Sydney, oh jeez. I heard. What happened?"

"Your sick friend. That's what happened." Maeve's Asian-American ass snapped, but Brooklyn ignored her and rushed to me.

"It's okay. I'm fine." I said, forcing a smile.

"Some girls said you insulted him in class. You shouldn't have done that."

I stared at her. "You believe that?"

Brooklyn paused as if realizing what she'd done wrong.

But then she continued. "When I told you to say something back to him I didn't mean like that."

"So what did you mean?" Maeve snapped again, taking the words right out of my mouth.

I wasn't going to say it anyway.

Brooklyn eyed Maeve and turned back to me. "You drew a war line Sydney." She said quietly. "And I'm not sure I want to get caught up in a war between you and Tyler."

Tyler

"Sydney Walker," I'd repeated all day in my head.

And the moment Brooklyn yelled my name, running toward me on the basketball court, and I found out that that curvy genius she hadn't stopped blabbing about all week was her sister-

Everything shifted.

I swear I'm not a bully. I've never had to be one. I mean, even though my mom is one of the pillars of the school, I've had to keep my perfect grades, be the best I can be out on the court, and still juggle my social life.

I never really have time to keep track of the girls who smile at me or thin their voices just to speak to me in the hallway.

But when Sydney arrived, something changed.

Honestly, I never planned to get under her skin this way, or throw random jokes when the guys were around.

But there's just something about Sydney Walker that seems to pull me each time I see her. From the way her gaze drops whenever she passed by a group of people, to the way she always flinches before I even finish a joke.

Sensational.

She's like a big red button among a bunch of dull ones, just begging to be pushed.

And I pushed-every time.

And each time, she reacted better than the last.

One morning, my mom left early for work, and I finally had the chance to ride one of her cars to school. When I told Brooklyn, she was down for it. So I dropped by her house to pick her up.

And when I walked in, my eyes landed on her. Sydney.

She was coming down the stairs, her sleek black hair down as usual, falling over her shoulders like a dark waterfall.

She saw me and paused, pulling her hand away from the railing.

My eyes dropped to the oversized, long-sleeved sweatshirt that was so long, the sleeves swallowed her hands whole.

I scoffed. "What? Parachute was on sale?"

And just like that, she flinched, and her face fell.

"No. It's just comfortable." She muttered, like she was scared I'd hear her.

"You mean they help you feel good about yourself."

Her shoulders dropped, like some pillow punched once. And then she opened her mouth to speak, but Brooklyn walked in from the kitchen.

"Tyler, quit trying to tease my sister."

Tease. That was what it ever was. And I was getting better and better at it each day. Squeezing out reactions from Sydney Walker like it was the highlight of my day.

Until the day she actually said more than five words to me.

It was PE.

Everyone had to participate. Didn't matter if you were sick or allergic to grass or whatever. You still had to sit on the bench and watch at least.

The boys changed into their track suits first-long sleeved jackets and long pants, and then the girls went in after.

And because of previous complaints from some girls about "comfort", the girls' track suits were the long sleeved jackets, shorts, and then knee-high socks.

The guys and I were already out on the benches with the PE teacher when the girls came out.

Someone tapped me from behind.

"Hey. Check this out."

I turned.

'Damn,' I thought instantly.

It was the first time I'd seen Sydney in clothes that didn't qualify to be hot air balloons.

And instead of leaving her alone-letting her walk out with her arms wrapped around her body, I opened my stupid mouth.

"Okay, who let XL on the field?"

The guys roared. And even some girls snickered as they passed by her.

But Sydney...Sydney hunched her back even more, tightening her arms around her body like she was trying to form a shield around herself-a wall I kept breaking each time I saw her.

Maeve put a hand on her shoulder and whispered something. But to my surprise, Sydney stopped walking and turned to me.

"You really don't have to make comments about me every time, Tyler." Her voice was low, almost shaky. "It's not nice. You need to stop."

That should have stopped me, maybe broken me, or pushed me to stop already. But the guys had already laughed once.

What's wrong with another show?

"You know what is not nice?" I smirked. "The horror you're putting those socks through."

More laughter.

Sydney looked like she wanted to diffuse.

She frowned, and her cheeks turned red. Her eyes darted towards the guys around laughing, and she hugged herself once more as she stepped back.

"God, you are such an idiot, Tyler!" Maeve yelled, pulling Sydney back towards the girl's group.

But the look on Sydney's face never left me. It stayed with me throughout practice that day, at the cafeteria when she sat at a far table with Maeve, and all through the final classes, till the last bell rang.

And somehow, I still didn't know how to stop.

The ketchup incident was the one that came after. And it wasn't supposed to be that serious.

After Sydney talked to me during PE, I honestly thought she'd snapped. I thought I'd finally pushed past my limit.

So I'd set that trap at algebra-her favorite subject, just to confirm. And she took it like the puffy, angry cloud she'd become.

She corrected me in class, in front of the entire class. And I, I'd never been wrong in algebra.

The guys laughed their asses out as we walked out of the class that day. They made jokes about it. And I just knew I couldn't let it slide, even if it was my plan.

I couldn't let them know it was on purpose-for Sydney.

So I organized one prank. One tiny, harmless prank that was supposed to tell Sydney Walker that no matter how much she tried, I saw her everywhere.

At school, at home, when I shut my eyes, in my sleep!

But that day at the cafeteria, where she stood, her eyes had shimmered, and something clawed against my chest.

My heart had skipped-not the way it usually did when I saw her.

But if I don't torment her in front of the school, how would I explain that I have to picture Sydney Walker's face before I can fall asleep every night?