Paper Thin

Winnie Johnson scratched her pen against the paper, willing the last bit of ink to appear. It sputtered out in streaks, exhausted from the daily affirmations her mother insisted she write.

Not that they ever worked.

No matter how many kind words she wrote in her journal, believing them was another story—especially when Tina Pinket came around.

Tina was an ugly thing. Not in the way she looked, but in the fact that every morning she woke up stretching, grinning with one goal in mind: torment Winnie Johnson

And for no particular reason at all, but then again, had the devil ever needed one?

“Hey, Poo Bear,” cooed Tina as she approached the only lunch table with a party of one. Perhaps in another life, “Poo Bear” would’ve been a fun, affectionate nickname. But in this one, it burned like swallowing apple cider vinegar straight from the bottle. A cruel double meaning, jabbing at Winnie’s name, and a vicious reminder of the accident she had in the second grade. Coined by Tina Pinket herself, she lived for the chance to say it. “Whatcha working on?” She asked.

Winnie kept her head down, trying to avoid the barbed wire curling around Tina Pinket’s fake curiosity. Winnie was a quiet girl, the kind who never caused trouble nor invited it in. By all accounts, she was just an average middle schooler trying her best to get through the day. But to Tina Pinket, Winnie had no right. To Tina Pinket, her very existence was an offense that needed daily punishment.

“HEY!” Tina Pinket yelled, slamming her hands on the table.”

Winnie flinched but didn’t look up. She leaned over instead, reaching into her book bag to retrieve the brand new blue pen and matching pad her grandparents got her for her birthday and began writing again. It glided effortlessly over the page, the black ink shimmered over the white canvas almost seeming to glow after each stroke.

“It’s pretty rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you,” Tina sneered.

Winnie finally acknowledge her with an exasperated exhale already fed up. “What do you want, Tina?”

Tina laughed—not a real laugh, but an arrogant, mock-sweet cackle. “Didn’t know someone could be fat and deaf at the same time,” she said.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Winnie muttered.

Tina didn’t care. “I said, what are you working on?” She snatched the notebook from under Winnie’s arm.

Winnie shot up from the table. “Give that back!”

Tina smirked, holding it just out of reach. “Got something to hide, Poo Bear? Writing down all the names of boys who’ll never love you?”

Winnie lunged for it, but Tina yanked it away.

“I said give it back!”

“‘I am super pretty,’” Tina read aloud in a sing-song voice. “‘Everybody loves me,’” She laughed.

Winnie reached again.

Nope.

Tina’s voice suddenly flattened as she read “I am not an ugly jerk like Tina Pinket.”

The laughing stopped.

Tina’s expression darkened.

“What did you call me?”

“N-nothing! Now give it back.” Winnie reached again.

Tina pulled away, eyes narrowing. “Did you just write that?” She asked. Winnie held her breath. Tina scoffed then clutched her chest in mock hurt. “Poo Bear, that is sooo mean. Don’t you know words can hurt?”

Winnie swallowed hard. “I was just joking. Just give it back.”

Tina frowned. “No. I think you meant it.”

“I didn’t! I’ll scratch it out—”

“How do I know you won’t just write something else like that when I walk away?”

“I—“

Tina tapped her chin. “Hmm. I think you need to learn that what you say can really affect people.”

Winnie’s stomach twisted from the irony. “C’mon, Tina. Just forget about it.”

“I will,” Tina said. “But first, you have to do something for me.”

Despite her best efforts, Winnie had managed to land right into Tina Pinket’s snare—a bear trap, set just for Poo Bear.

“My mom always says it’s important to keep your words sweet because one day you might have to eat them.”

Tina tore the page from the notebook and shoved it in Winnie’s face.

“Eat it,” she said.

Winnie froze. “What? No!”

“Yes!”

“Are you insane? I’m not eating paper!”

Tina pouted. “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to tell everyone about your little incident. I bet everyone here thinks I call you Poo Bear because your name is Winnie.” She smirked. “It’d be a shame if our classmates found out you pooped your pants in the sixth grade.”

Winnie’s chest tightened. “That was the SECOND grade when I got food poisoning!”

“Of course I know that,” Tina said. “But they don’t. They’ll believe anything I tell them,” She shrugged. “And once that secret is out…” she clicked her tongue, shaking her head sympathetically, “…middle schoolers can be super cruel.”

She shoved the paper at Winnie’s face again.

Winnie stared at it. Then snatched it with gritted teeth.

She popped it in her mouth. She chewed. She swallowed. A tingling sensation danced across her tongue and, if she hadn’t known any better, the paper tasted like vanilla.

“Eww!” Tina shrieked. “You actually did it? You really are a fatty,” she laughed. “Oh, and by the way—I already told everyone about your little accident. Why do you think you eat alone at lunch, Poo Bear?”

Tina Pinket laughed, spinning away, singing as she went:

Winnie the Pooh

Winnie the Pooh,

Winnie, Winnie, Winnie the Pooooh!

The bell rang.

Winnie ran to the bathroom stall, took a deep breath, and held back tears.

None would be spilled for Tina Pinket. Not today. Not ever.

She was never worth it.

—————-

The next morning, Winnie spun the dial on her locker, grabbed her pre-algebra book, and sighed.

Down the hallway, Tina strolled in, whistling her favorite yellow bear theme song.

Winnie groaned and slammed her locker shut, turning on her heel to walk the other way.

“Hey, new girl! Wait up!”

Winnie frowned. She stuffed in her earbuds and kept walking. Tina Pinket wasn’t talking to her.

Then, a hand tapped her shoulder—gentle, almost hesitant. Winnie pulled out an earbud, already annoyed.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” said Tina Pinket. Her voice was light, friendly. Her eyes, sincere.

Winnie blinked. “Tina, leave me alone. I’m not in the mood.”

Tina gave a confused laugh. “How do you know my name?”

Winnie rolled her eyes. “Whatever game this is, I’m not playing.” She turned and kept walking.

When she sat down in class, whispers fluttered around her. Boys, in particular, stole glances her way.

Tina must have told them she ate paper yesterday. No, knowing her, she probably told them Winnie ate the whole notebook.

But instead, she heard:

“She’s pretty.”

“I’m gonna talk to her after class.”

Ms. Williams walked in, setting her books down. Her gaze landed on Winnie, and she startled slightly before smiling.

“Oh! I hadn’t realized we had a new student join us.”

Winnie glanced left, then right.

Ms. Williams nodded at her. “Go on, dear. Stand up and introduce yourself.”

Slowly, Winnie rose. Utterly confused. Her voice wavered. “Um… I’m Winnie.”

The whispers grew.

“Settle down,” Ms. Williams said, beaming. “It’s lovely to meet you, Winnie. Funny enough, we have another Winnie in this class. If she were here today, I’m sure you two would get along.”

Winnie sat down, heart pounding.

What kind of sick joke was this?

—————

After class, two boys cornered her by the lockers.

“Hey, Winnie,” one said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh…” He hesitated, then bailed. “My friend thinks you’re cute.”

The other punched him in the arm, flustered. “No, he thinks you’re cute!”

They both did.

Before Winnie could respond, Tina Pinket slid between them. “Would you two bozos get out of her face? She’s not interested in boys who probably still wet the bed.” She slung an arm around Winnie’s shoulders and steered her down the hall.

Winnie scoffed. “Tina….I don’t know how you pulled this off, but it’s getting old.”

Tina tilted her head. “What are you talking about?”

“The ‘new girl’ thing.” Winnie folded her arms. “I’ve been here as long as you so quit playing dumb.”

“Ok, seriously, what are you talking about? I literally just met you. Are you ok?”

“You somehow even got the teachers involved!” She scoffed. “Unbelievable. You’re such a—“

“Don’t you dare,” Tina cut her off sharply. “I’ll make you eat those words like I did the last girl.”

A teacher walked down the hallway and saw them talking, “Get to class ladies,” she said. Tina glared at Winnie before turning to leave.

But I am that last girl. Winnie thought.

———-

That evening Winnie lay on her bed watching her ceiling fan spin lazily above her. She replayed the day, pondering on how everyone was calling her pretty. How Tina Pinket pretending she didn’t know her. But she was lying. Of course she was. They all were. Even the teachers.

Right?

But that just doesn’t make sense. There’s no way Tina could’ve convinced the whole school and faculty to play along to her sick joke. Especially overnight. What changed between the day before and yesterday? What changed between now and then?

Winnie stared at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Then she shot up.

I did!

She remembered her words. The ones she wrote about with the new pen and notepad. The ones she wrote about everyday per her mother’s request. The ones Tina Pinket made her eat. The ones that tasted like vanilla.

Those ones…

Came true.

—————

Winnie sat under the bleacher stadium during the girls track meet, hiding as she scribbled words in her notepad.

“I am very pretty.”

“I have long, beautiful hair.”

“I have an hourglass shape.”

The ink glistened over the paper with each stroke. One page after another she stuffed them in her mouth, eating, gorging them down greedily, with the sweet taste of vanilla in her mouth.

Each day her popularity exploded. The students, the teachers, even the school janitors were fond of Winnie Johnson. She had more friends than she could count. The girls her age envied her looks and boys drooled over her, stumbling over their words when they talked to her.

Students offered to carry her books to class. Friends flooded her table during lunch. Teacher’s gained a new favorite student.

Everything she ever desired was simply in the stroke of a pen.

For Winnie Johnson life was beautiful. She was beautiful—but not in the kind of person she was—in how she looked. And eventually it made her sick.

She groaned as she stuffed her sandwiches with little slits of paper. Every bite became a bitter thing. Not because the taste of pages, but because deep down she knew people were only her friends because they found her attractive. None of them seem to care about the who she was.

But she couldn’t stop eating. She’d come too far.

————-

Pimples swelled over Tina Pinkets cheeks and forehead, body hair grew in unexpected places, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what that awful odor was coming from.

Puberty was an evil thing and it hit Tina fast and hard.

The students teased her, some calling her Tina Stinkett.

She hid in the bathroom stalls, crying from the cruelty of middle schoolers. Tina Pinket hated she looked, and who she’d become.

————

The ladies room was one of Winnie Johnson’s secret eating place. After all, If anyone saw her eating paper in public, her life would be worse than it was before. When she drew out her pen and pad from her bag, her heart dropped at the sight.

Only one page left.

She panicked. She couldn’t go back to her old self. The self that people hated. The self that people made fun of. The self that ate lunch alone. The self that Tina Pinket loved to ridicule.

She held her stomach, unable to bear the thought.

When Tina Pinkett opened the stall door, she came out wiping red puffy eyes and a crimson nose.

Winnie looked up at her through the mirror.

Tina offered a small smile to Winnie before it faded. She hesitated then stumbled over her words, “For…um… for what it’s worth…” She said, “…I’m so sorry for how I’ve treated you, Winnie. I didn’t realize this is how you felt everyday.”

In that moment, Tina Pinket was not the devil. Nor was she on any mission to torment Winnie Johnson or anyone for that matter. She was just a normal girl, navigating the growths of life and middle school.

With a sting her her chest, and a twisting pain in her stomach, Tina Pinket admitted, “Words hurt,” as tears welled in her eyes.

Winnie glanced at her, and let a tear run down her cheek. “But they don’t have to, do they?”

With her pen and the last sheet of paper in her notepad she wrote:

I am enough just the way I am.

She tore the page out and ripped it in half. A piece for Tina, and a piece for herself.

“We are who we say we are,” Winnie said, “How we think about ourselves is who we will become…

She smiled. “As my momma always used to say, “‘We are what we eat.’”

A tingle danced across their lips and the taste of vanilla filled their mouths.