Halfway to Perfect (3 page)

“Your birthday
is coming up next weekend,” said Mrs. Daniel over dinner, as if Dyamonde weren’t counting down the days. “I was wondering if you’d thought about what you’d like to do on Saturday to celebrate, where you’d like to—”

“Coney Island!” said Dyamonde.

“Well,” said Mrs. Daniel, “that was easy.”

“And can I bring Free and Damaris? Please, please, please?”

Mrs. Daniel smiled. “I’ll give their parents a call.”

Dyamonde bounced up and down on her chair, too excited to speak.

At ten o’clock Saturday morning, the foursome set foot on the Coney Island boardwalk. The minute they were there, Dyamonde remembered the Coney Island fun-house mirrors.

That’s it!
thought Dyamonde.
If Damaris looks at herself in all those different mirrors, maybe she’ll understand that there are different ways of seeing herself and they’re not all real. Anyway, it’s worth a try. I’ll take her by the mirrors later.

The first thing Dyamonde did was to make a dash for the carousel. Free called it a baby ride, but Dyamonde didn’t care. She loved it, and so did Damaris. The Ferris wheel came next, then the roller coaster. Free and Dyamonde braved that alone, leaving Damaris and Mrs. Daniel waving to them
from the ground. All that riding in circles and screaming their lungs out on the roller coaster made everyone hungry. Dyamonde’s mom told her she could have whatever she wanted.

“It is your birthday,” said Mrs. Daniel.

They all bought Nathan’s hot dogs and washed them down with cola. Free ate ice cream for dessert, but Dyamonde chose cotton candy. Damaris skipped dessert altogether, choosing to sip some lemonade instead.

“I can have ice cream any old
time,” said Dyamonde. “But cotton candy is special—like my birthday.”

Dyamonde enjoyed every mouthful of her sticky treat, especially the way it melted on her tongue.

“Yum!” said Dyamonde. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“Oh yeah? Well, my ice cream is chocolaty, super yummy, mm-mm good,” said Free.

“Not as scrumptious as my melty pink cloud of deliciousness,” said Dyamonde. She tore off a big piece of it and hummed as it disappeared on her tongue.

“Whatever,” said Free. “I bet I’ll finish mine first.”

“Suit yourself,” said Dyamonde. “I don’t get cotton candy every day, so I’m taking my sweet time.”

“Hey! That’s good. Cotton candy, sweet time. Very punny!”

“Don’t you mean
funny
?” said Dyamonde. “As in, you think you’re so funny?”

“Ha, ha, ha,” said Free between licks. “Just forget it.”

Damaris laughed at them both, then sipped the last of her lemonade.

When they were done eating, Free’s attention turned to the beach.

“Last one in the water is a rotten egg!” said Free.

As if on cue, Dyamonde, Damaris and Free started race walking to the steps that led down to the beach.

At the bottom of the stairs, they shimmied out of the clothes covering their bathing suits and slipped off their sandals. The second their toes hit the sand, they took off, dodging beach umbrellas and
picnic blankets, running toward the waves as they broke on the shore.

Damaris splashed around for a few minutes, then climbed out of the water.

“Hey!” said Dyamonde, splashing around in the cool water. “I can’t believe you’re leaving already!”

“I’ve had enough for now,” said Damaris.

“Oh, man!” said Free. “I could stay in here forever.”

“Me too,” said Dyamonde. She watched Damaris bend down to pick up shells.

She’s getting way too thin,
thought Dyamonde.
I have to say something, but not with Free around. Maybe this would be a good time to find those fun-house mirrors.

Dyamonde waded over to Damaris. “My skin is getting all wrinkly,” she said. “I want to go back up on the boardwalk for a while. Want to come?”

“Okay,” said Damaris.

“Hey!” said Free when he saw the girls leaving the beach. “Where’re you going?”

“It’s girls’ stuff!” Dyamonde yelled. “We won’t be gone long.”

Free shrugged and dove back into the waves. Mrs. Daniel stayed behind to watch him.

Strolling on the boardwalk, Dyamonde took Damaris right to the Coney Island Museum. When Dyamonde saw all the fun-house mirrors, she squealed.

“Look at me! Look at me!” she said, posing and making faces in front of one of the mirrors. Damaris looked at her friend’s reflection in the mirror and laughed. Dyamonde looked ten feet tall, and thin as paper.

“
Now
look at me!” said
Dyamonde, jumping in front of the second mirror. This time, Dyamonde looked short and fat, like one of the round Munchkins in
The Wizard of Oz.

Damaris laughed at that reflection too.

“Now it’s your turn,” said Dyamonde, nudging her friend to stand in front of the first mirror. “Is that the real Damaris?”

“No!” said Damaris, giggling.

Next, Dyamonde led her friend to stand in front of the second mirror. “Is this the real Damaris?” asked Dyamonde.

“No, silly!” said Damaris.

Then Dyamonde locked arms with Damaris and walked her over to the third mirror, which was regular.

“That’s the real Damaris,” said Dyamonde in a soft voice. “Not super tall and super skinny. Not extra short and fat. The
real
Damaris is somewhere in the middle, and all you have to do to see her is to look in the right mirror.”

Dyamonde was quiet for a moment, letting her words sink in.

“Those kids at school,” said Dyamonde. “You can’t listen to
them, Damaris. They’re all looking in the wrong mirror. Okay?”

Damaris gave her friend an embarrassed smile.

Damaris nodded in silence. Then she gave Dyamonde a tight squeeze.

It took
about a week for Free to notice that Damaris had gone back to eating like normal.

“I thought you were on a diet,” said Free one day at lunch.

“Not anymore,” said Damaris after washing down a spoonful of macaroni and cheese with a swig
of chocolate milk. “I’m done with all that.”

“That’s too bad,” said Free. “I was kind of getting used to eating your fries.”

“Free!” said Dyamonde.

“What?” Free gave Dyamonde his innocent look. “I’m a growing boy.”

“Oh. So that’s why your head’s so fat,” said Dyamonde. Free stuck his tongue out at her and turned his attention back to Damaris.

“I don’t know why you were dieting in the first place,” he said. “It’s not like you needed to.”

Dyamonde and Damaris shared a secret smile.

Dyamonde wasn’t done keeping an eye on Damaris, though. Every now and then, she still caught Damaris staring long and hard at herself in the mirror. What’s more, whenever one of the super-skinny girls from class passed by, Damaris watched them with envy. And there was one more thing. Damaris started watching Amberline.

Take yesterday. Dyamonde and Damaris were standing in the lunch line, minding their own business, reading the menu.

“I can’t make up my mind,” said Dyamonde. “Should I have pepperoni pizza? I love pizza, but I can’t stand pepperoni.”

“You could just pick them off and give them to Free,” said Damaris.

“True,” said Dyamonde. “That boy will eat anything!”

“Make up your mind already!” came a sharp voice from behind them. Dyamonde and Damaris spun around and saw Amberline. Damaris instantly sucked in her stomach.

“What’s the big hurry?” asked
Dyamonde, who didn’t like being yelled at. “Just give me a sec.”

But Amberline just pushed past the girls and cut in front of them. “Oh, forget this. I’m not waiting,” she said.

The nerve!
thought Dyamonde.

“Uh-oh,” said Tanya, who was at the front of the line. “Here comes Miss Piggy.” Damaris winced, waiting for Amberline to react. But Amberline acted as if she hadn’t even heard the insult.

Dyamonde shook her head and went back to studying the menu.

“Okay. Pizza it is,” Dyamonde
decided. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Damaris staring after Amberline with a look of awe on her face.

“Did you see that?” asked Damaris.

“What, Amberline being
rude
? Yeah, who could miss it?”

“No, not that,” said Damaris. “They called her Miss Piggy and she didn’t even blink.”

“So?” asked Dyamonde.

“So, I wish I could do that,” said Damaris. “She doesn’t seem to care what other people say about her. Not like me.”

“Yeah, well,” said Dyamonde. “That girl is nobody to be jealous of.”

Damaris stiffened. “Who said I was jealous?” she asked.

“Oh,
puleeze
,” said Dyamonde.

“I’m not jealous. I’m not! It’s just…if somebody called me fat, it would really bother me. But Amberline doesn’t care what other people think,” said Damaris. “I wish I could be like that.”

“Well, they better not call you fat when I’m around,” said Dyamonde.

Damaris smiled at that.

“Even if they do, I’m not going
to start dieting again,” said Damaris, “so don’t worry.”

But Dyamonde was worried.

“Look, Damaris, I—”

“Hey!” said Free, joining them in line. “What’re you two yammering about?”

“Nothing,” said Damaris.

“Nothing,” echoed Dyamonde. But Dyamonde’s nothing was like a heavy stone in her pocket, weighing her down for the rest of the day.

Dyamonde studied
Damaris day after day, watching to see if she would skip the french fries or the chicken nuggets or the pizza when those foods turned up on the lunch menu. But Damaris never did.

I’m still worried,
thought Dyamonde, eyeing her friend in class.
She’s still not comfortable with herself.

Dyamonde knew she was right. She’d noticed that Damaris had stopped wearing belts and always seemed to be trying to stretch out her shirts so they would come farther down over her hips.
She may not be on a diet,
thought Dyamonde,
but she’s still not happy.
Dyamonde wasn’t sure what to say or do about it, though.

“Well, Dyamonde?” said Mrs. Cordell. “Can you tell me the answer?”

Dyamonde looked up at her teacher, blinking.

“I’m sorry?” said Dyamonde.

“You should be,” said Mrs. Cordell. “Try to pay atten—”

Just then, the bell went off, signaling a fire drill.

“All right, class,” said Mrs. Cordell. “Line up. Quickly!”

In all the rush and shuffle, Damaris and Amberline ended up side by side. Right away, Damaris sucked in her stomach and stood a little straighter. Damaris didn’t want anybody calling
her
Miss Piggy just because she was next to Amberline.

Damaris wanted to talk to Amberline, to ask her if she really
didn’t care when kids called her fat or if she was just pretending. Damaris wanted to ask Amberline lots of things, but Amberline kept her mouth shut tight and looked straight ahead as if Damaris wasn’t even there.

Why is Amberline like that?
Damaris wasn’t sure if she’d ever know.

The class marched outside and stood for a few minutes, fidgeting, until the bell rang for them to go back to their classrooms.