Maxwell's POV - Twenty Years Ago
I sat behind the state library, wedged between a dumpster and the brick wall, trying to make myself as small as possible - which was nearly impossible given my size.
I was twelve years old and weighed over two hundred pounds. My face was a mess of red blotches and acne that no amount of expensive dermatologist visits could fix. My shirt - already too tight across my stomach - had a fresh stain from the chocolate bar I'd been eating earlier, back when I'd foolishly thought I could enjoy my book club meeting in peace.
Stupid. So stupid. The club kids will never see me as one of their own.
And that's when I heard them coming. Their laughter. Their voices getting closer.
"Where'd the fat pig go?"
"Probably hiding somewhere eating again. That's all he ever does."
"Bet he's got more food in his pockets. He always does."
