Read Online Holding Up the Universe by Jennifer Niven - Free Book Online Page A

pink-and-yellow checked bathing suit I loved. I was treading water in the shallows and a jellyfish attached itself to my leg while I was swimming. I mean, the little monster wouldn’t let me go and they had to carry me out of there and
pry it off,
and I thought I was going to die.
    Well, this little monster is holding on just as hard, and at first I can’t do anything but stand there. It’s like the world goes blank and still, and so do I. Everything just
s
    l
    o
    w
    s
    d
    o
    w
    n.
    And stops.
    Just stops.
    For the first time in a really long time, I feel panicked. Chest clenching. Breath coming too fast. Palms damp. Neck hot.
    And then something snaps me back into reality—maybe the sound of shouting and clapping and booing. Or is it mooing? Whatever, I’m suddenly back in the school cafeteria with this boy draped on me like a sweater, arms wrapped around me tight.
    “No.”
    I recognize my own voice, but I sound far away, like I’m on the other side of the school, over by the library.
    It’s clear that this is some kind of horrible game. Hug the Fat Girl or Velcro Yourself to the Fat Girl. This is worse than being banned from the playground, and I’m suddenly so mad I’m shaking. My whole body goes hot, which I’m sure he must notice, seeing as how he’s as attached to me as my arms and legs.
    I think,
I didn’t lose three hundred pounds and give up pizza and Oreos just to be shamed in my school cafeteria by this jackass.
    “NOOOOO!” It comes out like a roar.
    For someone so lanky, he’s strong, and I summon all the strength I have to peel him off like a Band-Aid.
    And then I punch him in the mouth.

I’m lying on the cafeteria floor, and the girl is standing over me. My jaw feels knocked loose, like it’s over somewhere in Ohio. I give it a rub to make sure it’s still attached, and my hand comes away covered in blood.
    I say, “What the hell?” My words are garbled.
Jesus, I think she broke my voice box.
“Why did you punch me?”
    “WHY DID YOU GRAB ME?”
    My eyes go to her backpack, to the letter sticking out of the pocket I just managed to shove it into. I want to say
You’ll understand later,
but I can’t speak because I’m wiping the blood from my mouth.
    I may not know who anyone is, but every face in that cafeteria is turned toward us, eyes staring, mouths hanging open or gums flapping. The girl is still standing there, and from the floor I say, “I’m getting up. In case you’re thinking of punching me again.”
    A hand comes toward me, and it’s attached to a tall white guy wearing a stupid black beanie. I hate hats because sometimes the only identifier is someone’s hair, and a hat erases that, which erases them. I’m not sure whether I should take the hand, but no one else is offering one, so I let him pull me up. As he does, the son of a bitch starts laughing.
    The girl turns on him. “You’re a jackass.”
    He holds his hands up like she’s pulled a gun. “Hey, I’m not the one that grabbed you.”
    “Maybe not, but I’m sure you had something to do with it.” Which tells me this might be Dave Kaminski.
    Then another girl is there, dark and angry, with a mole by one eye, and she gets right up in the face of the girl I grabbed. “YOU HIT HIM? YOU STUPID COW! HE WASN’T HURTING YOU!” And only Caroline Lushamp can get her voice that high and loud.
    I say, “I deserved it. I shouldn’t have grabbed her.” And suddenly I’m defending my attacker.
    “
She
did this to
you
?” A kid appears, pointy chin, shaggy hair. I’m searching his face for signs of who he is, but everyone is coming at me all at once, and this is my nightmare because I don’t know who anyone is. People are pulling at me, and wanting to know
What happened, am I okay, it’s going to be okay, don’t you worry, Jack.
I want them to get off me and go away because I’m supposed to know them and I don’t, and I might as well have amnesia. They are freaking me out and I want to tell them to fuck