C2 MEET THE PLUS-SIZE DUCKLING

Four weeks ago….

Donna

Meet Donna—or should I say, me—A size 22, 5 '3", social outcast, and a plus-size duckling struggling to fit into a society where the standard of beauty was measured by a slim figure, clear skin, and symmetrical facial features.

I’m sort of what one would call a cracked and chipped mug among flawless china teacups, or a rusted, dented car in a lot full of shiny new vehicles. I attended a prestigious high school where only the top 1% of society could enroll, so you could call it a haven for demi-gods. Prime High had a social hierarchy system, where a significant percentage of students from the most notable families controlled the school. They were called the 'populars'.

My dad was well-to-do, but if we were to grade our status compared to other students using a high school grading system, we'd be getting a C.

Being overweight since childhood, I have endured being a target of school bullying for as long as I could remember. I was called names like ‘fatso’ and ‘duckling’, so much that half of my school barely remembered my actual name anymore. Growing up, I've had a phobia of clothes like gowns, crop tops, skirts, and leggings because society’s judgements have distorted every ounce of my self-worth and compelled me to believe that I couldn't wear them due to my size. So I always settled for oversized t-shirts and pants instead. I was more comfortable that way.

And then there's Dahlia, my amazing maternal cousin with contrasting appearances to me. Dahlia was a size 8, 5'5", effortless beauty; a fashionable, social butterfly. She was the kind of girl everyone just liked naturally—not just because she was beautiful, but because she was kind and free-spirited.

Five years ago, my mom, Anna, and her sister, Rachael, who was Dahlia's mom, were gunned down by armed robbers in their co-owned jewelry store here in Manhattan. Rachael died on the spot, while my mom died some minutes after she was rushed to the hospital. Since Rachael was a single parent who had never been married, Dahlia had no one to take her in when Rachael passed. Rather than sending her to a foster home, my dad, Jake, had offered to take custody of Dahlia. He officially adopted her and gave her his name, and ever since then, she has been my biggest cheerleader.

I grabbed a novel from my bedside table and fell onto my bed. I was barely two chapters in when Dahlia appeared at the open door of my bedroom, wearing a red sleeveless knee-length gown and black boots.

“You ready?” she asked, lifting her gaze from her phone to see me sprawled on my bed. “Why aren't you dressed yet?” She stepped into my room. “Are you not going to the party?”

“No, I'm not,” I replied without looking away from the novel.

“Why not?” she asked in a disappointed tone.

I shot her a quick glance. “You know I don't fit in there. They're just going to get another opportunity to ridicule me.”

Dahlia plopped down on my bed, beside me. “Is this about what happened at Tiffany's pool party last weekend?”

I scowled, flashing back to the nightmare of that awful day. It was that time of the year when Tiffany Diaz, the entitled rich kid of a well-known business tycoon, self-crowned queen of the populars', and my arch-nemesis, threw the biggest pool party in her family mansion. It was sort of a tradition.

I rarely attended any parties. If at all I did, I would hide away in a corner, then quietly leave after a few minutes. I was beyond skeptical about attending Tiffany's pool party, but Dahlia had insisted I come along with her. After much consideration, I decided to attend, mostly because I was curious to witness what goes on at the most talked-about party in prime high school.

I got into the bikini Dahlia had gotten me and slowly stepped out of the bathroom. Dahlia, who was seated on my bed, immediately stood up when she saw me, her lips curling up into an amazed smile, While I stood in an awkward posture, looking uncomfortable as I impulsively hugged myself.

Dahlia’s eyes lit up in delight as she smiled even wider. “You look beautiful.”

But I didn't feel beautiful. The protruding stomach I had always hidden under a t-shirt and the stretch marks that ran through my thighs, which I had always covered up with pants, were now in plain sight. And my large arms felt even larger around the straps of the bikini. The last thing I wanted was to go to Tiffany's party feeling so insecure.

“I should change. I look ridiculous,” I blurted, heading towards my wardrobe.

Dahlia grabbed my hand to stop me. "No, you don't. You look absolutely breathtaking.”

I could see it in her eyes that she meant that, but I wasn't willing to take the risk of being ‘the freak show’ at Tiffany's party. Plus, I always felt Dahlia only said things like this to make me feel better about myself, when in fact, that was far from the truth. I know it is wrong of me to assume this about her, but it came with my inferiority complex.

“I’m going to be a shitshow if I show up in these. Either I change, or I'm not coming with you,” I threatened.

Dahlia gently surrendered her hands to the air. “Fine. Whatever you're comfortable with.”

I grabbed a swimsuit from my wardrobe, changed into it, and we headed out. A few seconds later, I rushed back in and grabbed a sarong, wrapping it firmly around my waist, ensuring that from my waist to my knees was completely covered.

After a while, our car pulled up at the entrance of Tiffany's family mansion.

“Are you ready for your first ever pool party?” Dahlia asked with an excited grin as we stepped out of the car.

I flashed her a nervous smile, followed by a sluggish nod of the head.

“Come on,” she said, extending her hand to me and shooting me an encouraging smile. I took her hand, and we stepped in, hand in hand.

As we approached the pool area, I could feel my heart pounding so fast, to the point that I thought it was about to explode. My mouth practically flew open when we finally got to the pool. Virtually everyone from Prime High was here: girls in their bikinis and guys in their swim trunks. It was like a circus carnival out here.

My inferiority complex kicked in again, but I was grateful Dahlia was holding my hand, and luckily for me, no one seemed to be paying much attention to us as we walked in.

“Babe!” Dahlia's boyfriend, Trevor, called out to her from a distance, and Dahlia smiled at him as he waved to her with a charming grin.

Trevor was pretty popular in school. His dad was the president of the International Hockey Federation, so by default he was also on the school's hockey team. When he first started courting Dahlia, Dahlia went on and on about how she felt he was a player, because according to her, good guys don't look ‘that good-looking’. But look who's madly in love now!

“Go on,” I said to her, not wanting to separate the lovebirds. Trevor and Dahlia were like two conjoined twins.

“Will you be fine on your own?” She asked without looking at me. Her puppy eyes were fixed on Trevor, who was also gaping at her like a love-struck puppy.

I rolled my eyes dramatically as I watched the two of them, slightly amused. “You don't have to worr…”

“Okay,” Dahlia cut in before I could finish my sentence, and like a butterfly, she fluttered away to Trevor.

I stifled out an amused scoff, feeling no shred of surprise that I was literally just abandoned by the person who made me come to this party.

Trevor wrapped his hands around Dahlia's waist, lifted her up in the air, and planted a passionate kiss on her lips.

My face immediately contorted with a cringe. “Why are they being so dramatic when they literally saw each other yesterday?” I shook my head in amazement.

A small smile tugged at my lips as Trevor put Dahlia down like a true gentleman, his hands lingering on her waist, feeling a tad bit jealous. I was going to be 18 in a few months, and I had never had a boyfriend, let alone kissed a guy. I yearned for this kind of love in my life—a love straight out of a fairytale movie where a guy would love me genuinely, despite my size—but that seemed like a farfetched dream.

I walked over to the mini bar made of bamboo with a thatched roof, grabbed a mocktail, then walked over to a vacant beach chair and took a seat. As I sipped my mocktail, my eyes roamed to some of the popular girls in Prime High, giggling by the pool. I admired their slender figures, wishing I had their bodies so I could confidently show off like them. My eyes drifted across the pool and fell on one of my biggest nightmares, Mason King. I knew he had spotted me because his lips immediately curled up into a devious smirk.

Mason King was the self-acclaimed king of Prime High. Rich, insanely handsome, well-defined abs and an athletic build that made girls literally swoon over him. He was also captain of the hockey team and Tiffany's boyfriend since sophomore year.

My gaze lingered in Mason's direction as he tapped Tiffany and her best friend, Heather, who were standing beside him, and whispered something to them. They turned in my direction, and Tiffany’s lips parted in disbelief, a wicked snicker playing on her lips, while Heather had a hand over her mouth as she chuckled with eyes full of scorn.

“The duckling’s here?”

Someone said from behind me, and I turned to see who it was. The girl in question, who was one of the ‘it’ girls in school, gave me a bitchy look, and I suddenly felt smaller. As I snapped my head away from her hostile gaze, I was met with the sight of three apex predators circling around me. My face instantly turned pale.

“What the actual fuck” Heather said with the vilest of looks, motioning towards me like she was about to pounce on me. “You actually had the nerve to show up here?”

Tiffany grabbed Heather’s hand, gently pulling her back. Then she came forward. “Hey fatso,” she said to me in her usual sassy tone, while Mason sniggered beside her. “Why are you sitting here all by yourself?” her voice dropped to a gentle tone, but the glint of mischief in her eyes betrayed her true intentions. “Why don't you come with us on a swim in the pool?”

“You shouldn't be covering all that hotness,” Mason added in a sarcastic tone as his sky blue eyes roamed through my body. “Why don't you take off the sarong so we can see what's underneath?” he let out a taunting laugh, and I clutched my trembling hands at my side in a desperate attempt to hide my anxiety.

“Come on, Donna,” Heather urged. “You don't have to be shy. I promise you, no one's going to judge you.”

“If you want to remain at my party, you're going to have to take that…” Tiffany shot me a pure look of disgust. “thing off”

“Then I'll leave,” The words flew right out of my mouth, surprising me. I stood up immediately, walking away.

“Did she just walk out on me?” I heard Tiffany faintly say: Then footsteps followed.

I hastened my steps in urgency. I had to leave here before they did anything to embarrass me. I reached the poolside and scanned through the crowd for Dahlia, but she was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, I felt a firm grip on my arm.

“Where are you running off to?” Mason snickered, spinning me around.

“Let go of me, Mason; you're hurting me,” I squeaked, struggling to free my arm from his tight grip.

Tiffany grabbed my sarong. “Come on, Donna, take it off,” she urged all too eagerly.

Heather, being Heather, took out her phone and began to video me so she could capture my impending humiliation.

“Let go,” I pleaded, my feet drifting closer to the pool as I struggled to free my arm from Mason, and at the same time, stop Tiffany from taking off my sarong.

Tiffany tugged harder at my sarong, and it came off, making me lose my balance. I let out a high-pitched scream and…

‘Splash’

I landed on my back, into the pool, leaving the sarong in Tiffany's hand. I heard a bunch of screams, followed by the sound of Tiffany's laughter, erupting like fireworks, while Mason and Heather laughed their hearts out. Everyone who had initially been in the pool got out, bursting into cynical laughter as they pulled out their phones to capture each moment of my humiliation.

Swimming was one thing I sucked at.

I flapped my hands frantically, gasping for air as I choked on chlorinated water, while everyone watched like wall flowers. As I struggled to keep my head above water, I caught a glimpse of Dahlia and Trevor dodging through the clustered crowd to probably see what the commotion was all about. Their gaze landed on me, and

Dahlia's eyes widened in fear. She ran over to the side of the pool, with Trevor running behind her.

“Oh my God! Donna!” She cried out in panic, throwing her hands over her mouth.

Without a second thought, Trevor jumped into the pool. Just about the same time, another guy emerged from the crowd, hurling himself into the pool and swimming ahead of Trevor with powerful strokes. I couldn't get a clear glimpse of him because I was now submerged. I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist, lifting me up to the surface. That was when I clearly saw the face of my savior.

‘Christian Walker?’

I blinked in shock as my panicked eyes met the cold emerald eyes of the last person I expected to see. I couldn't believe it. Of all the people, it was him.

Trevor swam up to us, lifting my arm on his shoulders to take some of the weight. Trevor and Christian swam with me to the edge of the pool, and they placed me on the tiled floor before stepping out of the pool.

I coughed, water pouring out of the sides of my mouth.

“Donna, are you okay?” Dahlia asked in a shaky voice, kneeling beside me.

Trevor helped me up to a sitting posture. “Donna, are you okay?” his concerned eyes searched mine for an answer, but I didn't respond. I was still in shock.

My soaked clothes clung to my body, accentuating every curve I despised. I looked at the crowd of mocking faces staring down at me, and embarrassment washed over me. Tiffany's lips were curved into a satisfied smirk with my sarong still hanging from her hand, while Mason and Heather chuckled gleefully beside her. A cluster of girls huddled together at the side of the pool snickered, covering their mouths in a vain attempt to suppress their amusement, while a few of them just gave me a pitied look.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision as I fought the urge to disappear from sight. Why me? Why did I always have to be the court jester without a court?

Through my tears, I saw Christian grabbing a towel from a table and extending it to Dahlia. She took the towel from him and choked out a thank-you, wrapping it around me, but even the towel proved inadequate for full coverage of my abundant flesh.

What a cruel joke.

“Let’s go, Donna,” Dahlia said softly, pleading with her eyes for me to stand on my feet, but I wouldn't budge no matter how hard she tried. How could I when the towel left much exposed and an army of smartphones flashed at me?

Still wearing that satisfied smirk on her face, Tiffany extended my sarong to Dahlia. “You're forgetting this.”

Dahlia shot her a death glare, then yanked the sarong from her.

As much as I dreaded standing up, I couldn't stay down forever. I had to pick up the remnants of my self-respect. I made a move to stand, and Trevor and Dahlia helped me up. They held me on both sides and we walked away.

I tilted my head to the side, eyes watery, as we retreated, and my eyes fell on Christian.

There, by the mini bar.

Our eyes locked, and for a fleeting moment, an unfamiliar warmth flashed in his eyes, fading as quickly as it appeared. He chugged down the contents of what looked like a margarita in his glass, and walked off.

I looked away, cursing myself for not knowing my place in the first place.

I should have never come here.