Butter Read Online Free PDF Page B

to the damn machines?
    â€œAre you? Okay?”
    Heads shifted in unison to Anna. She felt the spotlight and tried to stand up straighter. She closed her mouth and fingered the pencil in her hair.
    â€œUm, I’m fine?”
    She said it just like that, with a question mark at the end. I wondered if everyone in the cafeteria heard what I heard in that question mark—not just “I’m fine,” but “Who are you and why are you talking to me?”
    â€œOkay, well … good,” I said.
    â€œThat’s it? What the hell was that?”
    Damn, that kid from Jeremy’s table had a mouth on him.
    â€œShe’s fine, Butter.” Jeremy wrapped an arm around Anna, but it looked more predatory than protective, and I felt my skin crawl. “Why don’t you just waddle on back to the big-and-tall section?”
    A few kids gasped. You just didn’t talk to a morbidly obese teen that way. It was unseemly, even by wicked-evil high school standards. But I wouldn’t have even flinched if it weren’t for Anna’s reaction. She didn’t gasp like the others or laugh or stand up for me or
any
typical reaction. She simply turned red and looked down at the floor.
    She’s embarrassed for me
.
    The realization made me bristle. I didn’t want Anna’s pity. In fact, at that moment, I didn’t want anything from her at all. She was weak for not saying something—
anything
—and for not picking a side or even bothering to look me in the face. She didn’t have to know me to see I had gotten into this mess for
her
, that Jeremy was harassing me because of
her
, and that the best person to diffuse the situation would have been
her
. Nope, she just buried her face in the floor and pretended nothing was happening.
    I was this close to calling her out on it when something wet and stringy smacked the side of my face. I didn’t have to look as it dripped from my cheek to my chest to figure out what it was. If there’s one thing I knew, it was food. And food was exactly what had just made contact with my face.
    Oh my God. They’re throwing food at me. They’re going to come after me with tomatoes and lettuce and fruit like I’m a bad clown act in some old circus
. I nearly started shaking with rage and fear when I felt the sensation of food once again, but this time it was liquid, dripping over the sides of my fist. Confused, I looked at my left hand. It was covered with mustard leaking from the beef sandwich strangled between my clenched fingers.I hadn’t even realized I was still gripping my sub when I’d stood up.
    Then it dawned on me. I finally looked down at my shirt and confirmed my new suspicion. The food that had hit me in the face was a chunk of beef—leftover pot roast—that had popped out of the sandwich I’d apparently squeezed in my rage at Anna’s cowardice.
    I’d thrown food at
myself
.
    â€œEw.” A small voice at my elbow drew my attention. It belonged to a slight girl with tiny, pointed features. She was holding out one bony arm as if it were contaminated. I glanced at the extended arm long enough to see I had accidentally sprayed it with mustard from the other end of the sub.
    I couldn’t even say I’m sorry. I couldn’t say one more word—not to Anna, not to Jeremy, not to the waif I’d covered in condiments. I just needed to get
out
. I pushed forward blindly. The fastest way to the exit was right through Anna and Jeremy, and it was the only path wide enough for me to make my escape without tripping over chairs or tipping over tables.
    I stumbled on the first couple of steps and heard nervous laughter from a few nearby tables.
That’s okay, go ahead and make noise—any noise at all—just stop all the damn silence
. The volume continued to pick up—kids returning to their lunches, the kitchen back in action—and as I reached Anna and Jeremy, real voices joined