Camp Utopia & the Forgiveness Diet (9781940192567) by Jenny Ruden Read Free Book Online Page B

Courtney, managed the boys. We were divided into teams and my team consisted of Atlanta, Santa Fe, Cambridge, and Hollywood. Miss Marcia tapped each of us on the head like it was game of Duck Duck Goose. “And you.” Tap. “You must be Baltimore. We call you by your city and not by your weight.” She said this like I should be grateful. “First things first,” said our counselor waving a hand toward the scale, “I’ll need your digits.”
    Well, they certainly didn’t waste any time.
    I swallowed the coffee taste pillowing in the back of my throat as Miss Marcia stood on the scale, which was now positioned in the center of our circle. It was a fancy piece of electronic equipment, and Miss Marcia threw around words like “state-of-the-art,” “cutting-edge balancing technology,” and “calculates to the tenth of an ounce.” I wasn’t listening all that closely. Instead I studied the machine’s rather large LED display that, as soon as Miss Marcia stood on it, illuminated a slim number in satanic red.
    â€œOK,” said Miss Marcia. “It’s accurate alright.”
    The girl from the truck raised her hand. “You mean everyone sees our weight?”
    Miss Marcia nodded her head. “Yes,” she said and stepped off the scale. “The owners like to instill a little bit of competition among teams.”
    The girl crossed her arms. “No way, verdad . No thank you. My own brother doesn’t know my weight. Don’t you have a curtain or something?”
    Miss Marcia sighed. “It’s a necessary part of Utopia,” she said almost apologetically. “It’s why we’re all here.”
    The young girl rolled her eyes.
    Miss Marcia continued. “It’s just a number,” she looked at a file. “Santa Fe. It doesn’t mean anything. Come on up.”
    â€œIn front of strangers?”
    â€œThese aren’t strangers,” said Miss Marcia. “These are your team members.”
    â€œYes,” said a voice I hadn’t heard yet. It belonged to a thin girl. A pretty one. “We’re on your side.”
    Then the girl with the black nail polish and bad mouth sighed and crossed her arms. Finally she stood up, walked to the scale, and got weighed. Three more girls followed, including the beautiful one. Then I heard one word.
    â€œBaltimore.”
    â€œBaltimore?”
    Who was this Baltimore chick, and why was she taking so long? Oh wait. Right.
    Here’s what I thought about in the eleven steps it took to get to the scale. First, I thought: Damn. Then: Why did I have that macchiato? Finally: Wait. It had been seven full days since I’d tried The Forgiveness Diet. Seven days since Jackie whacked me with her clogs, and Doug took a vow of silence. I thought: Maybe it worked.
    Six steps in, I wasn’t looking forward to getting weighed, but I wasn’t dreading it either. I was kind of curious. TJ had been so adamant about The Forgiveness Diet and that commercial—so, miraculous. Now would’ve been the perfect time for good news. If the diet kicked in then I could send Jackie a quick text, have her turn the car around, and pretend like none of this ever happened.
    So far, on our team, we had a 168.4, 183.1, 159.9, 190.7, 146.2. Now in front of the scale, I slid out of my flip-flops and prayed. Universe , I thought, let the diet have worked. Feature me on the next infomercial . I was practically rehearsing my lines: I was on my way to fat camp when BAM I was … Thin. Thin. Thin.
    I stepped up and sucked in my stomach. Red numbers appeared on the scale’s neck, blinked twice, and steadied. It was a large red number and, unfortunately, it was the one that had greeted me before I left.
    I weighed exactly the same.
    Miss Marcia called out my weight a little too loudly for my taste, then scribbled in a file. “You can step down now, Baltimore,” she said. Yet there