So I'm at the Dingo, sitting next to Sandy in a booth across from Sodapop Curtis and some guy I barely know- I think his name is Mark- and as usual I am left out of the conversation. This is nothing new to me; no one ever pays me any attention. Which is funny, considering how I'm so big it'd take a blind person not to notice me. And by big I mean I'm fat, overweight, chubby- however you'd like to put it. Sure Soda had tried to talk to me a couple times, to make me feel included because he's such a nice guy and all, but Sandy always manages to distract him just when he's asking me a question. I wonder if she does it on purpose. Mark also talks to me here and there, little snippets of conversation, but I can tell he's just doing that to ease the awkward silence between us. Sandy and Soda are much too absorbed in each other to even notice our existences.

The name's Charlene but please call me Charlie. For some strange reason people always forget my name. I wonder why. Oh, I remember! It's because I have an impressive collection of nicknames, that's why. Fatass and Chubster are among the nicer ones. But it's ok, I'm pretty much used to it. After all, I've been dealing with the same crap for the last ten years, so this is about as new as yesterday's-shit-on-newspaper.

I'm a damn smart greaser girl, if I do say so myself. No, I'm serious. Whereas more than half of the female greaser population are out blackening their lungs by cigs or sleeping with half the town, I don't. I'm smarter than that. (Although I really do credit my appearance as the main reason for why I haven't slept around- I figure no guy would want to "do it" with me.) I have a lot of friends and I go out, and I guess everyone likes me because I don't mind being teased. I actually sometimes even tease myself. I find it easier that way, to go with the flow and laugh at what everyone else is laughing at. Even if it means they're laughing at me. I can fit in that way, you know?

Better to be a teased girl than a lonely girl. But I am pretty funny, and the teasing usually stops after people get to know me better. My best friend is Sandy. She has been since the 2nd grade. Always the prettier one, the beautiful blonde, if you'd like, she always got any guy she wanted and was super popular. I couldn't even get the nerdiest boy in school to fancy me. Man, I don't even think Frankenstein would've taken a second look. I mean who would like me, the overweight brunette who had frizzy hair?

So who's your boyfriend? People would ask me.

In order to dodge the question, I'd answer, Casper the ghost.

The not too bright ones would stand there and have this blank stare on their faces. So is Casper gonna pick you up or what?

Yes, guys, Casper the Friendly Ghost is really going to pick me up. See? Like I told you. Most girls I know aren't too bright.

"Charlie!"

I was so busy thinking and staring at Soda that I didn't even notice Sandy calling my name. "What?"

Sandy smiled a sugary smile. She seemed to be clenching her teeth as she said, "Soda's askin' you a question." For a moment I thought she was constipated or something. The one thing that Sandy hates most is getting the spotlight taken off her- but outsiders never knew that, only I did. They all thought she was an angel because she looked like one. I could tell you things about her that would make your skin crawl.

"Oh, sorry. What was it you were saying, Soda?" I turned my eyes to him. God, he was beautiful. Perfect in every way. He was even nice, too. The only flaw he has is that he dropped out of school and isn't interested in an education. I feel butterflies whenever he even looks at me. But I must not feel that way, because he's Sandy's boyfriend. He's infatuated with her, and anyway, I'm not good enough for him. I figure the day he actually goes for me is the day I find out I'm the missing heir to the Queen of Sheba. And that's not bloody likely.

As Soda was talking to me, I could see Sandy glaring at me out of the corner of my eye. Uh-oh. When we are finished with our conversation, I look at Sandy, hoping my eyes are telling her that I am sorry, that I didn't know why he was talking to me. But she just ignored me.

Fine then, if she's going to be a witch, then I'm not going to tell her that she has a glop of mustard on her left boob. I giggled to myself.