Willows Weight Loss Camp, aka, Fat Camp

Most girls fantasize kisses under the moonlight. Me? I fantasize food.

I made sure to ensconce lightly upon the bench so I wouldn't end up lifting the other side of the lunch table as if it were a seesaw. After a few seconds of sitting there in mute stillness, I caught up to what the rest of my classmates were talking about - summer vacation.

"I'm going to tennis camp this summer!" exclaimed Wendy, smoothing the straight black hair that framed her heart shaped face.

"Well I'm going to host a party this summer at my uncle's mansion, and everyone in the ninth grade is invited!" Kelsey chimed in, her honey colored curls cascading down her slim shoulders. "How about you?" she asked, setting her tantalizing, brilliant cobalt blue eyes on me.

I could feel the glare of the entire table staring at me, like the burn of an oven toasting a batch of jellybean cookies - my favorite. Sweat seeped from my palms and I could feel myself clamming up as I always did when I was nervous. I wiped them on my gray sweatpants, leaving a small, dark imprint of my uneasiness.

"I'm going to camp," I managed to stammer.

"What's it called?" asked Wendy, leaning closer as if I were about to tell her a secret. I could smell the vanilla scented shampoo drifting off of her shiny hair and I yearned to lean over and have a closer sniff so I could relive the mounds of sticky vanilla ice cream topped with scalding hot fudge I had once ate at a carnival. I guess that's what set me apart from other girls my age. They dreamt about kisses under the moonlight, dazzling dresses, and enormous sales at boutiques. I fantasized colossal stacks of waffles, buckets of chicken fried to a crispy perfection, and thick coconut frosting folded over a golden brown cake.

I frantically tried to think of the name of a camp that I knew. I couldn't possibly let them know that I was going to fat camp. That would be way too embarrassing.

"Camp Idol, it's a private camp," I lied, shrugging so it wouldn't seem like I was making too much of a deal out of it, which I wasn't because it wasn't even true. "It's for teenage celebrities. My uncle was able to get me in since he's really close with the owner." I shifted uneasily in my seat, as the bench creaked with every motion I made.

"Really?" Alicia asked skeptically, squinting her eyes. I bit my lips, a habit I'd picked up from my mother.

"Yes," I replied. "Really." I knelt down, pretending to retrieve something from my book bag, ending the conversation.