Fit for Love

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.