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counter, its glossiness a reflection of his mom’s obsession

with cleanliness. If she could, she would spray Bob every

day until he glowed like the stars.

Yet he couldn’t sleep. Today had been an especially

horrible day at school. He hated the

physical education classes,

having to jog around

the block, once,

twice, three times,

feeling out of breath with

every move, his chest bouncing up

and down. He hated himself even more

when he heard Sam O’Donnell pass him by

and shout, “Come on blubber, what’s

wrong? Go back with the whales if you can’t keep

up with us!” and Harry Little next to him, always athletic,

the winner of endless trophies and medals, snort out loud,

his laugh echoing through the street.

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