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All these words whispered in my ear

Tell a story that I cannot bear to hear

(Adele)

---

The television was blasting Cops when I got home. Huh. They must have been showing women's basketball or something like that on SportsNet. Then again, maybe Dad had just realized that variety is the spice of life and that he should change up his viewing habits from time to time. But I was inclined to doubt that--the only spice that raccoon knew about was barbecue sauce. And that wasn't even really a spice.

"Home," I announced half-heartedly, dropping my backpack on the floor next to the door.

Shuffling into the kitchen, I stuck my head in the fridge, trying to find something to eat. Dinner would probably be late again and I needed something to tide me over in the meanwhile.

Apple in hand, I wandered into the living room where my parents were sitting. Dad was engrossed by whatever idiot was getting arrested on the screen, barely noticing when I sat down beside him. He hardly shifted over at all. Not that he ever did. He had been marinating in his own juices (and a healthy-sized dash of Doritos) there for what seemed like ages.

"Today was pretty good," I said at length.

"That's nice," Mom replied flatly.

Wait a second. Were my eyes deceiving me, or had she glanced up from her copy of that damned tabloid rag for a millisecond as she'd addressed me? Damn. Gotta get that one down in the record books. It was a constant battle between that damned magazine and myself for attention, a fight I typically lost.

"Yeah, I met . She's pretty nice, in an odd way. I think we might be friends," I persisted. "Well, not yet, maybe. But we could be,"

"Do you want a gold star or something? Keep it down. I'm in the middle of the story," Dad grunted.

Either he didn't know that 'stories' traditionally came in print format, or Cops had become his middle-aged dude version of some old woman's soap opera.

"Oh, shut up, Keith," the slightly dumpy mink grumbled. She turned back to me. "That's nice, honey. I know how hard talking to other folks is for you,"

I could never tell if Mom was being super passive-aggressive all the time, or whether she was just really bad at saying things nicely and tactfully. Yet another mystery that plagued my family.

"Don't you tell me to shut up, Monica," Dad was really getting revved up. "If I had a dime for every time you crossed the line, we wouldn't have to live in this shithole of a house any more,"

Mom scoffed, tossing her magazine onto the coffee table, sending the day's mail scattering across the floor. Using the term 'floor' was being kind, frankly--you could only see a few square feet of it under the mat of assorted crap that had accumulated there over the past few days and weeks.

"Cross the line? Is that what this is? I'm not your fucking slave. And if you got off your ass and went back to work, we could maybe afford to move out of this shithole of a house," Mom snapped in reply.

I shrank against the back of the threadbare couch, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. Not that it really mattered; they were raring to get at each other's throats. I hardly existed to them. Why wasn't I moving?

"You know full well I can't work with my bad back. And I don't see you trying to get a job,"

"I don't try because you don't let me. And I _know_you're just lying to collect a fucking disability check. Your back is just fine,"

"Those fucking disability checks are paying for the roof over your head, you stupid bitch,"

The television snapped off and I beat it to my room as quickly as I could. The TV turning off was the event horizon in the black hole of my parents' relationship. No going back from there. Just an endless sucking void of fighting. I snatched some sandwich fixings on the way. It would be a long, loud night.

I turned on my laptop and pulled out the next DVD in the season of Doctor Hoot I was making my way through. It was something of a tradition to watch another episode every time I didn't want to deal with my parents' shit. Or a godsdamn coping mechanism. I didn't know, and even more so, I didn't give a shit.

This couldn't be real life, could it? This was fake. It had to be fake. I mean, shit like this doesn't exist outside Lifetime channel reality shows or some bullshit like that, right? This wasn't real. It couldn't be. I pounded my fist on my desk, hot tears stinging my eyes.

The bombastic symphony of bellowing and smashing continued off and on well into the night, lulling me off to sleep. Who needs a fucking white noise machine? Not this mink.

*****

My morning routine was the same as usual. After inhaling a bowl of dry cereal (the milk had expired a few days ago and I hadn't had a chance to pick up any more), I did my best to make a dent in the mess that was consuming the living room.

The pile of yesterday's mail scattered by Mom's magazine included a couple bills. Shit. That time of the month again. I stacked them on the island, including a couple of sticky notes with arrows on them to draw my mother's attention to them.

Giving up on making the living room look any more habitable, I packed lunch and headed out. Much as I hated standing around in the school hallway for half an hour or whatever, it definitely beat hanging around the building I lived in. Try as I might to make it livable, my parents' constant fights ensured that my efforts were erased by the end of each day.

Leaning against the wall next to the drinking fountain, I waited aimlessly for people to start showing up and the school bell to ring. From my nondescript vantage point, it was possible to pick up on snippets of conversations as folks passed. Nobody gave me a second glance most times, and I heard some pretty, uh, interesting things most days. High school was a really stupid place.

"And then I ate the whole pizza. In like ten minutes. I'm gonna weigh like 900 pounds the second my metabolism slows down,"

"I swear Miss Schrödinger nearly coughed up a hairball yesterday,"

"Wait! I haven't seen that episode yet! You can't spoil anything for me,"

"If my parents find out I stole their last forty of Old Düsseldorf... I just don't even know,"

"Yeah. She's like some sort of genetic experiment or something,"

Wait, what? My ears perked up.

"No. I heard that her parents sold her to some sort of drug company for testing. Growth hormones or whatever,"

Okay, something was really amiss. I stepped away from my not-much-of-a-hiding spot and began to follow after the pair in question. The husky and hyena were still engrossed in conversation. I kept a short distance away, waiting for the opportune moment to interject. That wasn't creepy and stalker-ish at all. Nope.

"Whatever. Fucking huge-ass bitch," Doug, the hyena, muttered.

"Fucking huge-ass hot bitch," Shane, the husky, corrected.

"I dunno, maybe. Kinda. But she's still a freak,"

"Hey, guys. I couldn't help but overhear your little chat," I squeezed between the pair in a moment of sheer insanity. "You seem to know an awful lot about Tabitha. Had a nice long heart-to-heart with her, eh?"

Doug brushed me aside. "What's it to you?"

"I just think that maybe you ought to get to know her before you start making up a bunch of shit about her and telling everyone else. Because she's actually nice," I shrugged. Why was I still talking?

Shane snorted. "Are you her godsdamn counselor or something?"

"No, he's hot on her," Doug ribbed Shane, snickering. "Heh. Ciaran can't even get with any normal girl. Probably thinks he's got more of a shot with a chick whose cunt you can fucking walk into,"

"How would you even fuck a chick like that?" Shane replied derisively.

Now they were acting like I wasn't even there. Marginally better than acting as if I were and beating the snot out of me, I supposed.

The tips of my ears tinged red. "No! That's not--I don't--just stop being... mean,"

nominate me for an eloquence award. My defense was crumbling, if it even existed to begin with. The husky leveled a smirk of thuggish derision at me before heading off in the opposite direction.

"Whatever, Shitface,"

Wordsmithing at its finest. Somehow, it still managed to sting.

*****

Ciaran was sitting in the back row of the bleachers when I got to Chem class. He glanced over his shoulder as I sat down.

"Morning, Tab," Ciaran said.

"Guess I better work on my stealth. Sneaking up on you didn't work out so hot," I replied.

Ciaran smiled thinly, barely making eye contact.

"Hey, is everything alright?" I asked, a frown creasing my brow.

"Peachy," the mink replied, turning away. He was a pretty terrible liar.

I made to brush a reassuring finger against the little guy's head, but immediately cursed myself inwardly. What was I thinking? I could do that if I wanted to break his fucking neck or something. Besides, I hardly knew the guy. Didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable.

Class was interesting enough, but I found that I spent most of the time staring at Ciaran. He had this habit of twitching his tail whenever the teacher asked a question that he knew but didn't want to raise his hand and venture the answer. Was it cute? I guess that could be a word that could be used to describe the action.

As class ended, Ciaran stayed behind, leaning over the back of the bleachers as I got ready to head to my next class over at the football stadium.

"Oh, hey!" he called up. "This Saturday, they're showing Prognosis Negative at the Landmark. I was wondering if you wanted to go. Just for fun,"

My brow furrowed. "Really funny," Maybe I'd judged him poorly. Dick.

"Er... the Landmark is a drive-in," Ciaran replied, cocking his head to the side. "You can... fit in it,"

"Oh. Oh!" Okay, perhaps he wasn't a total dick after all. "Yeah. Sure. I think that would be cool,"

"Great! Meet me at Haverford Park at 7 tomorrow, then. We can head out from there," Ciaran beamed.

Grinning over my shoulder at Ciaran as I headed out, I made my way to the next class, a bit of a spring in my step. Unfortunately, that proved disastrous for everyone trying to walk nearby and maintain a reasonable degree of balance.

"Watch it!" an otter snapped at me, falling flat on his ass as I flounced past.

"Sorry!" I replied hastily, lightening my stride.

Careful had to be my mantra anymore. _Careful, careful, careful. _ No excessive celebrating for this girl.

*****

Sitting in what was now commonly accepted as my personal corner of the courtyard at lunchtime, I dug into another round of sandwich salad, hoping Ciaran would show up. No such luck.

I didn't know why I expected anything otherwise. After being so different for so long, I was accustomed to solitude. You know all those pictures in ads for colleges and stuff, the ones with the bear, the dovess, the frog, and the little mouse girl in the wheelchair all getting along super well, laughing and having fun together? Yeah, it doesn't really work that way. And even if it did, there was never a giantess in the picture. Except for when I saw Ciaran, the only one around who seemed willing to talk, I went about my day more or less alone. I ate alone, sat by myself in classes, walked around alone... You get the picture. Maybe I could write some emo-ass poems about it.

Despite the thick shell of indifference I'd been working on, it sort of ate away at me sometimes. Especially now that I was starting off at a new school, trying to find my place, should such a thing exist. Was I being paranoid, or was everyone sitting around the perimeter of the courtyard talking about me, staring at me? I felt so exposed. I just wanted to shrink away to nothing, but I was stuck a gigantic monstrosity.

A vixen made the mistake of pointing at me in the most painfully indiscrete way possible. Welp, I was going to get to the bottom of this. Crossing the no-man's land that existed between myself and all of the others in two strides, I plopped down with a dull thud.

"What's up?" I asked sweetly, shifting onto my stomach and resting my chin on the backs of my hands, my face only a few feet away from the startled vixen and her friend. "What were you talking about just now?"

"N-nothing," the vixen stammered.

"My name's Tabitha, not Nothing," my grin broadened. She'd been gossiping about me, I just knew it. "And you are?"

"I have to go," the vixen replied, exchanging glances with the panda she was sitting next to.

She made to leave, but found my outstretched hand to be blocking her path. Hey, much as I hated the whole giantess thing, it still had its perks.

"Aw, don't leave. I'm just trying to get to know more people," I pouted as she turned back towards me. "I'm new here, in case you didn't know,"

"Oh, we knew that," the vixen replied shortly. She tried to walk around my hand, but I walked my fingers in pace with her, not letting her pass.

"So is sitting across the courtyard and whispering about her your way of greeting the new girl? Here I am, just trying to fit in," I sighed dramatically.

The vixen and panda couldn't find the words, but a hyena stepped in, posturing and squaring off cockily. Like he could take me in a fight. I snorted slightly at the thought of it.

"You don't fit. We don't want you around here," he barked. Well, he was a direct one. Did not mince words, that much was for sure. "What's the big deal, anyway?"

I arched a brow in bemusement. "I'm going to ignore the horrible pun. And the blatant rudeness. But that's not really a good question. Care to elaborate?"

"What the hell are you doing here? Why are you so fucking big?" the hyena snapped.

"Well, I have to learn just as much as you all. Not that education has done all that much for you, it would seem. As for my, er, excessive proportions, beats the hell out of me. Your guess is as good as mine," I replied brusquely.

"Right. So you aren't going to own up to all the freaky science experiments," a husky chipped in, stepping up beside the hyena.

"The only freaky science experiment I've ever been involved in was back in freshman chemistry, when my partner nearly burned a hole in my foot with flaming magnesium," I said, more than a little confused. "What are you talking--"

"Or the growth hormones," else cut me off.

"No. None of... why am I even listening to this bullshit?" my eyes narrowed. I _really_didn't like being ganged up on. The whole situation was backfiring in just about as many ways conceivable.

"What about all of the weird genetic--"

" SHUT UP! Just shut up! All of you," I bellowed, getting thunderously to my feet. The circle that had been forming around me drew rapidly outward. Standing at my full height, I was seething, hands balled into fists. "It's none of your fucking business how I got so big. I don't know how it happened. Nobody knows. But that doesn't matter. Just... just leave me alone,"

Dead silence. Then the whispering started again. If they had hated me unreasonably, well, now I'd given them an excuse. Fuck me. Fuck high school. Fuck the stupid, vicious, petty rumor mill. If other people got mad, it wasn't given much of a second thought. But if I_got angry, it was suddenly a huge deal. My ears were flat against my head and I was shaking slightly. To my horror, I found I even briefly entertained thoughts of squashing one or two of the fuckers, just to vent my frustration. That was unacceptable--_evil. I wasn't a monster. Screwing my eyes shut, I pressed my hands to my temples and tried to clear my head. Taking a deep breath, I scowled down at the group, lip curled in disdain.

"Tell your stupid student government you guys have a pretty shitty welcoming committee," I snapped with a stamp of my foot, just to prove that I could knock over some of the stupid little bullies.

I stepped over the ring of people, crossing the space in a few strides. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Ciaran hurrying into the courtyard toward me, but I ignored him. All I wanted to do was go home.

*****

"Honey, can I come in?"

"Sure. Fine. Whatever,"

I glanced up from the squiggles I'd been busy tracing on the surface of the table with my finger to see my father standing near my left hand.

"You know, you should probably think of something to say other than 'can I come in' if you're already in the damn room," I commented.

Dad shrugged, smiling. "I just wanted to let you know that you got a call. from school. Kyr... Keen..."

"Ciaran?" my ears perked up.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Dad nodded. "He just said to tell you he heard what had happened and was sorry about today. Also wanted to know if you were still on for tomorrow night,"

"He didn't need to apologize. Nothing was his fault," I said. "But yeah," I added, "Tell him yeah, we're still on,"

"On for what, anyway?"

"A crazy meth-fueled orgy. With lots of booze. And guns. And cheating on all our exams,"

"I remember those when I was in high school. Always good fun,"

Dad sat down on the end of the street lamp I'd shortened and turned into a sort of stylus. I could write with it when I dipped it in ink, not that we could afford much me-sized paper. My parents looked like dolls whenever they were around my room and me. Everything looked like doll stuff around me.

"We're going to a movie at the drive-in. Just to hang out. He's that mink I was telling you about yesterday,"

"Oh, yeah. Keenan,"

"Ciaran,"

"But what was he apologizing for? Tab, did something happen at school? Are we going to be getting a call from the principal later?"

"No, it was nothing. Everything's okay,"

Dad nodded again, but I knew he saw right through me. "If there's anything you want to talk about, just say it. It's part of the whole 'parent' gig,"

"It's okay,"

"You know I mean it. I'm here for you. Your mom and I both," Dad said, his tone gentle.

"I know,"

Getting to his feet, Dad reached over and rubbed me on the knuckle. "If you need anything, just let me know,"

"Oh, and can you tell Ciaran I'm looking forward to it?" I called after Dad as he opened the small door to leave.

He leaned around the door, beaming. "Sure thing. Should I be setting the date for your wedding or something?"

"I'm gonna punch you,"

"You'd better not do that. I value my life," Dad laughed. He blinked, looking straight at me. "I love you, Tabitha,"

He was so plain and simple and sincere, I felt a single fat tear escape the corner of my eye. But I brushed it off, smiling warmly.

"I know,"

I did know, though.