Kendra nodded. “I need to get going.” She stood and walked away.
“Sure. Good . . . talking to you. I’m just going to finish feeding these ducks.”
“Give some to the crows too. I like crows.”
“Sure.” I threw one to a duck. A moment later, I turned to wave good-bye, but she was already gone. I threw the last crumbs to the ducks and that one crow who showed back up. There was a strange chill in the air even though it was May. I figured I’d better get going.
I stood, gathered up my shoes, and rolled down my pants.
When I stood, the pants were the perfect length, as if I’d grown an inch.
Which I had.
By the time I left for camp that summer, I was already three inches taller. I grew one inch more each of the four weeks I was there.
But it wasn’t just height. I maintained my weight, so I got slimmer, but my shoulders were broader. My arms got bulkier. I’d had to borrow Matt’s clothes to take with me. Then, for the second time, I wrote home from camp to get larger shorts.
When I arrived at practice in late July, I’d gone from five seven to six three, exactly eight inches taller, and twenty pounds heavier, all muscle.
“You’re looking good, Burke!” Coach Tejada said. “Amazing growth spurt.”
“I know, right?”
“Wouldn’t have recognized you.” He was shaking his head.
“So, you said I could make varsity if I grew.”
“If your playing’s still on the same level, I’ll see what I can do.”
But my playing was on a completely different level. I learned that size did matter, at least in this case. I got five sacks in practice that day. Of course, it was easy against JV players. But I had a feeling that would be remedied soon.
I’d become a swan.
13
So everything changed after that, including me and Amanda.
People at school noticed the difference in me. Of course they did. It’s not like I was ever bullied, not really. This isn’t one of those stories. I know lots of other people who could tell it, but I’ve always been medium popular, as Matt’s dorky brother or Darien’s fat friend. I mean, yeah, when girls talked to me, it was usually because they wanted Brian’s number or because they felt comfortable asking me for the homework assignment. But at least they talked to me. I was never a pariah.
Now they talked to me because they thought I was hot. Short, fat Chris would have laughed at that. New Chris kind of enjoyed it, though I wouldn’t necessarily admit it.
I noticed it in the first period on the first day of school. I had AP Biology, a class that was almost completely seniors, so I didn’t know that many people. This girl Sydnie, a tiny blonde, who I knew because she was the cheerleader who did lines of backflips along the sidelines at football games, took the seat beside me.
“Hey,” she said. “It’s Chris, right?”
“Yeah.” Baffled that she was talking to me.
“I’m Sydnie.”
“Yeah. I know.”
She looked around. “I don’t know anyone taking this class.”
“Okay.” I found that very difficult to believe.
“No, really. Most of my friends have serious senioritis. They’re not taking any hard classes. But I want to get into Syracuse, and they look at your schedule.”
I nodded.
“Anyway, my mother is sort of involved in my life. Like, she still checks my homework and stuff. Anyway, she promised she’d stay on her helipad if I got a phone number in each class, so I’d have someone to text about assignments and stuff.”
I nodded again, since I had no idea why she was telling me this. When she didn’t continue, I said, “That’s a good idea.”
Palpable silence.
“So can you give it to me?” she said.
“Huh?” I fiddled with my phone. I’d been sending a text to Amanda. I hadn’t seen her that day because I’d driven myself to school. My dad had bought me a car for my birthday, an Audi, which put me in the top ten percent at my school. A guilt car, Amanda had called it. Truth was, I missed going with her. I was texting her my schedule.
“Your phone number?” Sydnie said.
She reached over and took the phone from my hand. The gesture was surprisingly intimate, like she had some right to touch my phone. Then she went one step further. She exited the text I was sending, pressed the phone symbol, then dialed a number. I assumed it was her number because her phone (in a hot-pink case that said Love fades, Cheer friendships are forever) immediately vibrated. She grabbed it, added me to her contacts, and handed my phone back.
“Add me too,” she said. “It’s Sydnie with y and then an ie.”
It took me a second to figure that out, but she was the only Sydnie I knew with any spelling. I added her.