Chapter 7

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Okay, so this chapter contain some expletives and some rather emotional scenes, so prepare to cover your ears and wipe your tears ;) Please vote, fan, and comment! Thanks :)

C H A P T E R     7

Thursday night

Brooke hovered near the chocolate aisle, not sure what she should get besides her usual Mars bars. Should she get a pack of Snickers or a pack of Oreos? Or perhaps a pint of Ben and Jerry's? She glanced down at her shopping basket, which was filled with a pack of muesli bars, a carton of OJ, two boxes of tampons, and some miscellaneous stuff. Screw it. Brooke dumped both the Mars bars and Snickers into her basket. She was on the way to the cashier when she heard someone in the next aisle. The voice sounded really familiar. Brooke didn't know why, but instinct told her to duck.

“Can you fucking make up your mind?” Female Voice said angrily. “We don't have all day, so hurry the fuck up and choose – honey oat or berry crunch?”

“Fine,” Brooke could imagine Male Voice rolling his eyes. “We'll get both, okay? Now you hurry up and choose whether or not you want your coffee caffeinated.”

“What's the point of choosing caffeinated coffee anyway? Your father's tendency to fight is already keeping me awake. I don't need any caffeine.”

“Look, just choose, okay?” Male Voice groaned.

“Can you fucking give me some time? You're just like your dad, aren't you? Always picking a fight with me,” Female voice said coldly.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Male Voice said. "It's not my fault that you're fighting with dad everyday."

"So its all my fault now?" Female Voice shrilled. "Your dad has an affair outside, and its my fault?"

"Hush, mom! People might hear us!"

"All you're caring now is that people might hear us? My marriage is crumbling and my son tells me to quieten down because people might hear us?" Female Voice forced out a laugh.

"Look-" Male Voice tried.

"Have you ever tried to be in my shoes?" Female Voice left no chance for Male Voice to speak. "I slaved so hard for this family, and all I got was this. Damn fuck, and my son tells me to keep my fucking mouth shut!" Female Voice was almost shouting by now. “You're the one who should be fucking keeping your mouth shut, not me!

Talk about drama.

"That's it, young man," Female Voice continued in a steely voice. "You're getting your own ride home, whether you like it or not!"

"But mom!"

"Shut it, Juan," Female voice growled. "I've had enough of your tactics. I'll speak to you when we get home - separately."

The two voices continued to bicker, but Brooke could only hear the sound of blood rushing to her ears. Juan? Juan Scott Mitchell?! The only person she knew who was named Juan was the exact person who had slammed her into the lockers just this afternoon. Talk about wow.

Which meant that Juan's dad had an affair. Which meant that Brooke finally had something against him. Brooke could use this to sort of blackmail him into stopping his taunts. Brooke's reasoning was, who would like their family's personal matters to be out in public? This was the type that fueled the neighbourhood's gossips. Juan would do anything to preserve his perfect boy look. He would do anything to not let people know about his father's extra marital affair.

This affair had totally shamed him.

Brooke grinned. Finally.

Brooke struggled with her basket. She walked towards the cashier and just in time collided with Juan. Talk about coincidence! "Move it, fat ass." He muttered, shoving her to aside.

Brooke summoned her inner goddess, rolling her eyes at him. When she was sure that Juan was fixated (or rather, glaring) at her, she gave him a I-know-everything smirk. And then proceeded to say, "It wasn't your Nikes by the way. It was your Pumas."

Juan paled, then turned into a pleasant shade of red. He looked like he was about to punch Brooke at that very moment.

With a growl, Juan pushed her away not too gentlemanly. Brooke regained her balance just in time to catch him scampering away. He flashed her the bird and mouthed an awful word at her. Brooke would have to wash her ears with soap later. Brooke, instead, gave him a really friendly three-fingered wave in return. "Have a nice summer vacation!" She called back.

**

Friday, night before Fat Camp.

Brooke stared at the ceiling above her.

Brooke couldn't sleep. Partly because of the reason that her mind was too busy plotting schemes to get Juan to fall at her feet in mercy. Partly because she was worried about tomorrow's fat camp. And partly because of what her mom had just told her the day before.

Today had been the last day in school, and strangely, Juan seemed to be avoiding her. Whenever Brooke saw Juan, Juan immediately turned and walked the opposite direction. Brooke had gotten through the day unscathed. Brooke was actually kind of surprised. She'd thought that Juan would beat the shit out of her to stop her from spreading word about his father's affair.

Well...

Brooke closed her eyes. She was kind of scared about the camp. She wasn't one to make friends easily, and this camp was about to test her friend-making skills. What if she failed miserably, and got picked on again? She understood that mostly girls with weight management problems went there, and that they would be the same size, or rather, bigger than her, but still she couldn't help but worry. What if she ran out of tampons? What if they had to sleep in the middle of a field filled with bugs and all types of creepy crawlies? What if -

Brooke groaned and then sat up, rubbing her head. At this rate, she wouldn't be able to sleep.

Brooke kneeled down next to her bed and reached under it. Her hand patted the space under it, feeling up fluffy and weird things. Her hands paused when she felt the familiar crinkle of her favourite food. Bingo.

Brooke sat back on the floor and ripped open the pack of Mars Bars, then proceeded to cram her mouth with Mars Bars.

If someone had walked in at that very moment, they would have found a girl hunched in a corner, face streaked with chocolate and tears. An occasional muffled sob would escape, only to be silenced by another chocolate confection. If someone had walked in at that moment, sat down beside her, and asked her what was wrong, maybe she would have stopped gorging herself and instead pour out her troubles.

But no one came, so Brooke cried and ate at the same time, her heart heavy; her legs numb; her head feeling as if it had been stuffed with cotton wool. She felt sick, but she couldn't stop.

And so Brooke ate and ate until she finished all 6 packets of it, until the wee hours, before she ran for her en-suite bathroom only to empty up her stomach's content...

 **

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