Read Online Kate Fox & The Three Kings by Grace E. Pulliam - Free Book Online

convinced the people of Brushy Fork bake with some kind of judgment-altering MSG’s. I filled my plate with a store-bought turkey and Swiss cheese sub on curiously firm whole wheat bread and a handful of BBQ chips. Lunch involved conversation attempts with David, trying to wring him of information regarding his college selection. Although the dialogue was quite brief, I was able to decipher that David got accepted to Kentucky State and wanted to major in Creative Writing. I didn’t know that David was a writer.  I didn’t know anything about him, really, just that his parents were highly active in the church. Consequently, David never attended any school-related social events. Before class parties, even Christmas and Easter, his parents insisted David be escorted outside of the classroom, in the hallway, while other students stuffed their faces with cupcakes and whacked piñatas. The lack of social participation only ostracized David further, even more so than the rest of us W.H.O.R.E. offspring (or inhabitant, in my case).
    Munching on a mouthful of turkey sub, I studied David’s face. His features were soft and complimented his dirty blonde comb over; his thin fingers shuffled chips around his plate, giving the appearance of having eaten more than he actually did. When he met my eyes, I noticed they radiated an emptiness I had often seen staring back at me in the mirror. I never sought out conversation or pursued a friendship with David, and I was ashamed of my own self-involvement.
    Joy’s glare pierced my consciousness, and chicken skin appeared on my forearm. I shoved a chip in my mouth, and as I avoided her laser beam gaze, Joy’s expression evolved into a full-on scowl.  Keeping the theme of the past couple of weeks, Joy probably believed my conversation attempts with David were purely seductive in nature.
    Thankfully, the shrill echo of “CAKE” cut my awkward need to disappear under the table. Unfortunately, the source of the declaration was Joy, wielding a small butcher’s knife and fanning herself with her other hand. I frowned at my barely eaten sandwich and mound of chips. Yeah, cake sounded like a good idea. I approached the food table, where a line was chaotically formed around a rather large, white sheet cake. Deflated red, yellow and blue icing balloons freckled the vanilla frosting, looking like a melancholy clown confectionary. At the front of the line, Joy cut everyone a slice, with an unusual grin plastered across her portly face, which most of the kids reciprocated after being handed their plate. Joy’s smile might’ve read as warm and friendly to anyone else, but to me, it only read as forced.
    Essie accepted a piece of cake, immediately shoveling a sugary forkful into her mouth as she stood to the side, waiting on David. I redirected my attention back to Joy, whom I realized was not actively slicing any cake. “Probably oughta skip the cake, Katie,” Joy spat loud enough for the whole room to hear. I felt everyone’s eyes settle on my face. Embarrassment slithered up my chest and halted with redness at my cheeks. “I’m just tryin’ ta help you and that bloated figure of yours. I mean, look ‘atcha. That button is burstin’ at the seams,” she added in a not-so-quiet whisper, pointing her hefty finger over the button straining at my breasts.
    I mustered every ounce of self-restraint possible, as I knew any retort would be futile. Instead of meeting Joy’s eyes in defiance, I glued mine to the floor and pushed past Essie to reclaim my seat. Lingering stares fueled the fire that was ignited within; the same fire whose embers burned along with my flesh the night Pastor Sprite paid a visit.
    “Don’t mind that heinous bitch. She’s probably just like, real jealous you can see your feet. We all know she can’t over that big ol’ belly,” Essie said in a low voice, with sympathy clouding her features. David procured two plastic forks from his pocket.
    “Here...I…I snagged an