They Called Me Fat. I Proved Them Wrong

For the past two years, my grandmother had emailed them every month.

"Come get Chloe already. She went into town once, and now boys are lining up at the farm gate!"

So my family had never even opened any of the photos Grandma had sent them over the years?

Seeing me standing there in silence, Isabella immediately turned to our parents, feigning concern.

"Daddy, Mommy, she's already so insecure and sensitive about her weight.

"You should encourage her, not make her feel worse."

My mother scoffed.

"They say beauty comes from within. Isabella is beautiful inside and out."

My father frowned at me.

"Take off that mask and hoodie. Let's see if a weight-loss clinic can do anything about all that fat."

I put a hand on the edge of my hoodie, ready to unzip it and clear up the misunderstanding.

Even with my hat and mask on, my figure had attracted unwanted attention from men on the flight to New York. To avoid further harassment, I'd padded my body with thick foam and hidden it beneath an oversized hoodie, making myself look bulky and overweight.

Before I could unzip my hoodie, my mother spoke again.

"Some people don't even have basic manners. She walks in without so much as saying hello.

"Actually, don't bother. I don't want to lose my appetite before dinner."

Her words hit me like ice water, extinguishing the last spark of hope I had. Slowly, I pulled my hand away from the zipper.

After 18 years apart, all they had for me were looks of disgust and cruel remarks.

They're complete strangers to me. How can I possibly call them Mom and Dad?

I'll be out of here soon anyway. Why waste my energy trying to prove anything to them?

I tightened my grip on my canvas bag. "May I know where my room is?"

The mask hid most of my face, but it couldn't hide my voice.

The moment my mother heard my voice, she froze as if she'd been shocked. A moment earlier, she'd been impatient and dismissive. Now she actually answered me politely.

"Second floor, second door on the left."

My father and sister gave her strange looks, and she realized she'd slipped.

Her face flushed. Annoyed by her own reaction, she snapped, "Every room in this house serves a purpose. You'll be staying in Isabella's dressing room.

"Isabella inherited our perfect genes. Top modeling agencies are fighting to sign her, and she isn't even 18 yet.

"That room matters to her, and you won't be here long. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

"I understand. I won't be in your way for long.

"I'm only staying for a week. Then I'm moving into the dorm."

When she heard my voice again, that spellbound look returned to my mother's face.

"Well, there's no real hurry.

"You could wait until you graduate and find a job. Then you could rent an apartment nearby."

I'd already made my plans. I nodded without a word and headed for the stairs.

Behind me, my mother continued murmuring.

"Such a waste. That voice is perfect.

"Too bad her body is a disaster. She could never appear on camera."

I paused and glanced back. Downstairs, Isabella was glaring at me, her jealousy plain to see.

Then she seemed to get an idea. She slipped her arm through our mother's and smiled sweetly.

"Mommy, her voice really is beautiful. If only she had a pretty face and a nice body to match. Then Richard might actually like her, don't you think?"

At that, my mother's look of regret hardened into a scowl.

I didn't care. I went to my room, shut the door, and put my sunglasses and mask in my pocket.

My bags remained packed by the bed, ready to go at any time.

I unpacked only my toiletries.

I received an email from my dorm adviser, Daniel Smith. "Students who wish to move in early can now submit a request."

I typed out a reply without hesitating.

"Mr. Smith, this is Chloe Sinclair. I'd like to request early move-in for next Friday."