Halfway to Perfect: A Dyamonde Daniel Book

Spaghetti Heaven
You’d never know it to look at her skinny little self, but Dyamonde loves food. If there were a class in eating, she’d get an A plus every time.
Dyamonde treats all food fairly. She likes Mexican tacos, Chinese egg rolls, and Cuban beans and rice. She eats beef hot dogs, turkey burgers and fried chicken. Actually, she likes just about anything that has chicken in it: noodle soup, potpie, even chicken salad sandwiches.
Dyamonde doesn’t have much use for vegetables, but she loves broccoli, mostly because each spear looks like a tree. And she loves fruit-especially peaches, cherries, and grapes of any size or color. Dyamonde also loves some foods that other people don’t, like cottage cheese and applesauce mixed together.
“Yuck!” said Free the first time he saw her eat some..
“Oh, puleeze!” said Dyamonde, stirring in a little more applesauce. “You just wish you had a bowlful!”
Yes, Dyamonde loves all sorts of food, but her absolute favorite food in the whole wide world is spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread. And guess what Mrs. Daniel had made the last time Free and Damaris came over?
Dyamonde couldn’t wait to sit down for dinner. The minute the bowl of spaghetti was placed on the table, Dyamonde’s mouth began to water. Free licked his lips and reached for the bowl.
Dyamonde cut her eyes at Free with a look that said, Not yet! Damaris closed her eyes and waited until Mrs. Daniel finished saying grace, then she reached for the basket of garlic bread.
“Don’t forget the salad,” said Mrs. Daniel. Dyamonde scrunched up her nose, but she grabbed a few lettuce leaves to make her mom happy. Free plucked out a couple of tomatoes and a slice of cucumber, but Damaris filled up her whole salad plate.
“Yum,” said Damaris.
“Double yum!” said Free, his mouth already smeared with spaghetti sauce.
“Gross!” said Dyamonde. But Free ignored her. He was too
busy making his tummy happy. Mrs. Daniel smiled, especially when Damaris asked for seconds.
Free looked like one of those cartoon chipmunks, his
cheeks were so full of food. Mrs. Daniel shook her head. “Free, if you don’t watch it,” she said, “you’ll blow up like a balloon!”
“Yeah,” said Dyamonde. “Then I’ll have to poke a hole in you and watch you fly around the room backwards till all the air comes out!”
Dyamonde and Free looked at each other and laughed.
Damaris didn’t laugh, though. She just put down her fork, saying she was full.
“What about dessert?” asked Mrs. Daniel. “You saved
room for that, didn’t you?”
“No, thank you,” whispered Damaris. “I think I’ve had enough.”
Free shrugged. “More for me!” he said, grinning. But something in Damaris’s voice bothered Dyamonde.
“Are you okay?” she asked her friend. Damaris nodded, so Dyamonde let it drop.

The Girl in the Mirror
Dyamonde was amazed at the silly things kids talked about at school. Take the next day. Dyamonde was in the girls’ room, taking care of her business, when she overheard three girls blabbing away over the loud sputter of the water faucet going full blast. It was the Three T’s, Tanya, Tylisha and Tameeka. Dyamonde would know their voices anywhere. Damaris was there too, but Dyamonde didn’t know it.
“Well, I may be the youngest in class,” said Tylisha, “but I
also weigh the least.”
“So what?” said Tanya. “I’m the most popular.” “You wish!” said Tylisha.
“Ugh!” said Tanya. “I’ve got to go on a diet. I don’t want to turn into a little piggy like Amberline.”
“She’s not that big,” said Tameeka.
“Are you kidding? Have you seen her pouchy belly?” asked Tylisha.
“Oh,” said Tameeka. “Yeah.”
“She must be stuffing her face when no one’s watching,” said Tanya.
“Like when she’s by herself,” said Tameeka.
“Which is all the time, since nobody wants to be her friend,” said Tylisha.
“I know!” said Tameeka. “It’s sad.”
“Well, it’s her own fault,” said Tylisha. “That’s what she gets for being so pushy.”
After that, Dyamonde heard the faucet switch off. The girls’ voices faded away as the three left, their sneakers squeaking against the tile floor.
Dyamonde straightened her clothes and went to wash her hands. That’s when she saw Damaris pinching her waist and frowning at her reflection in the mirror.
“What’s the matter?” asked Dyamonde. Damaris dropped her arms to her sides when she realized Dyamonde was there staring at her. “You scared me!” said Damaris.
“Sorry,” said Dyamonde. “But what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” said Damaris, switching on the faucet.
“Then how come your face is all scrunched up like you’re about ready to cry?”
Damaris bit her lip, scrubbing her hands as if they had never been washed.
“It’s no big deal,” she said.
Dyamonde wasn’t having it. She knew something was wrong. She crossed her arms and waited, staring Damaris down.
After a minute of this, Damaris felt her shoulders sag. She dried her hands and turned to face her friend.
“I think I’m getting fat,” said Damaris, almost in a whisper. Dyamonde blinked. “What?”
“I think I’m getting fat.”
Dyamonde started to laugh, but Damaris gave her such a sharp look, Dyamonde stopped mid-giggle.
“I’m sorry,” said Dyamonde, “but who told you that?”
“Nobody. But you heard them call Amberline a piggy, right?”
Dyamonde nodded.
“Well, I’m practically the same size as Amberline, so I must look like a piggy too.”
“No, you don’t!” said Dyamonde. “They were just being mean. Amberline is not fat, and neither are you.” Damaris did not look convinced.
Dyamonde put her hands on Damaris’s shoulders and spun her around to face the mirror again.
“Look at you,” said Dyamonde. “You are perfect just the way you are.” Dyamonde gave Damaris a squeeze.
“Maybe not as perfect as me,” said Dyamonde, “but you’re at least halfway, and that’s pretty close!”
Damaris was surprised to see her lips curling into a little smile. Dyamonde bumped hips with her. “Let’s get out of here,”
she said.
Damaris followed Dyamonde out into the hall. Dyamonde didn’t know it, but by the time the girls reached homeroom, Damaris’s smile had slipped away.