Fat Bullied And Pregnant

The shrill ring of my alarm jolted me awake, pulling me out of a half-dream where life still felt easy and safe. I groaned and rolled over, slapping the clock to silence it. For a moment I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting the heaviness of another Monday sink into my bones. The weekend was over, and that meant facing another week of school, another week of whispers, stares, and little moments that always seemed to break me down.

Tears stung my eyes before I could stop them. It happened more often than I liked to admit. Every time I thought about how high school had been for me since freshman year, the memories piled up like bricks, and I felt crushed beneath them. I rubbed at my face quickly, trying to hide the evidence of my tears, but just then, the door banged open.

“Why aren’t you ready yet?” my mum barked. She stood there with her arms folded, her sharp eyes scanning me.

“I was about to go in before you came in,” I mumbled, clutching my towel and hoping she wouldn’t notice my red eyes.

“Well, be quick or else you’ll be late for school,” she snapped before pulling the door shut.

I sighed and dragged myself into the bathroom. My morning routine was mechanical by now—brushing my teeth, splashing cold water on my face, combing my hair into something passable. It wasn’t that I didn’t care how I looked; it was more that no matter what I did, I never felt like I could compete. Not with girls like Kehlani.

By the time I got to school, the sun was high and the campus buzzed with energy. Relief washed over me when I realized classes hadn’t started yet. I rushed to my locker, and there, as always, was Bailey—my anchor, my best friend since kindergarten.

“Hey baby!” she squealed, throwing her arms around me.

“Hi,” I muttered, my voice low. I didn’t want half the hallway listening in.

Bailey never minded my quietness. She had a way of making me feel safe, like my size or my shyness didn’t matter. That was why I loved her like a sister—because she never treated me like I was less.

“Did you hear about Kehlani’s new car?” she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

“No. What did she get?” My heart sank. Kehlani again.

Bailey leaned closer, lowering her voice. “She got a BMW Series 7.”

I nearly choked. Of course she did. Kehlani Preston, the only child of wealthy parents who spoiled her beyond reason. The school diva. The girl every other girl wanted to be. And if I was honest, part of me wanted to be her too. She had the looks, the clothes, the confidence. Everything I lacked.

I was so deep in thought that Bailey had to nudge me. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing much,” I lied. “Just… surprised. I knew she’d get something big, but not this soon.”

Before Bailey could reply, two familiar figures strolled toward us—Oscar, Bailey’s boyfriend, and his best friend Jamal.

My pulse quickened. Jamal. He was tall, with dark eyes that seemed to hold secrets, and a smile that made me want to melt into the floor. I’d had the biggest crush on him since sophomore year, but he had never spoken directly to me. Until today.

“Hey, girls,” Oscar said, slinging an arm around Bailey. “What’s with the serious faces?”

“Nothing much,” Bailey replied, smiling. “Just talking about Kehlani’s new car.”

“Oh, that,” Oscar scoffed. “Anyway, I hope you guys are ready for my birthday party Friday after school.”

My stomach dropped. The party. I had almost forgotten. Bailey told me last week, but I hadn’t asked Mum for permission yet. Today was Wednesday. That left me barely two days to figure it out.

Then Jamal’s voice cut through my panic. “Willow… looking forward to seeing you there.”

Butterflies exploded in my stomach. He had said my name. Jamal had spoken to me. I clung to the sound of his voice like it was music written just for me.

Before I could respond, the bell rang for first period.

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Literature was first. Normally it was my favorite subject, but today, I couldn’t focus. My mind replayed Jamal’s words over and over: Looking forward to seeing you there. My name on his lips felt like sunlight on my skin.

“Miss Woodlark.”

I froze. Mr. Greenwood, our literature teacher—the one I disliked the most—was staring at me. “Tell the class what you think of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

Heat rose in my cheeks. Before I could rise, Kehlani’s mocking voice rang out.

“Why waste our time on this water bag when we all know she won’t be able to answer?”

Laughter rippled through the class. My throat tightened. I knew the play—I had read it twice—but Kehlani’s words cut too deep. My confidence shriveled. I lowered myself back into my seat.

And then, from the back of the class, came the voice I’d been dreaming of.

“How about you shut up, Kehlani, and let the girl speak?” Jamal’s tone was sharp, protective.

I turned, stunned. He was defending me?

“Willow,” he said again, softer this time, “tell us what you think.”

My heart pounded so loudly I was sure the whole class could hear it. But when I tried to speak, a knot formed in my throat. The room blurred as tears pricked my eyes.

“Mr. Greenwood,” I whispered, “may I please be excused?”

He sighed but handed me a hall pass. I bolted from the room and ran straight into the girls’ bathroom. The moment the door shut behind me, I broke down completely.

Pulling out my phone with trembling hands, I texted Bailey: Please come. I need you.

I leaned against the cold tiles, sobbing quietly. I hated that Kehlani could still get to me like this. I hated that my feelings for Jamal made me weak. And most of all, I hated myself for not being stronger—for not being the kind of girl who could stand tall and give an answer no matter what anyone said.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open and Bailey rushed in. “Willow? Oh, babe.” She wrapped me in a hug as I cried into her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t have to let her win.”

But inside, I wasn’t so sure.

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