Summary: Meet Alison. She's witty and sarcastic. And fat. And ugly. But somewhere, hiding behind the wit, sarcasm, fat, and ugliness, there's a person. A person that Justin Timberlake just happens to fall for. Who would have thought it? Not Alison. And certainly not Justin. (Out of Love Fan Fiction)
Rating: PG
Categories: Long Stories
Characters: Justin Timberlake
Genres: Romance
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 04/06/04
Updated: 07/15/04
Temporary Insanity by Erika
Chapter 1: Prologue + Chapter 1
Author's Notes: PROLOGUE
I'm one of those people you would never think would ever fall in love. You look at me and think, "She's going to end up by herself in a house full of cats." I believed it myself. But, something somewhere went wrong, and I ended up where I am now--living happily ever after.
You may be wondering who the lucky (or unlucky) guy is. But my story doesn't begin with him. No, it begins with me. And it doesn't begin with when I first laid eyes on him. No, it begins when I came into the world.
No, I am not talking about the emergency room. I'm talking about public school. Ah, the joys of education.
Actually, I never really had a problem with education. I had a problem with the people I had to share my education with.
Or, more like… they had a problem with me.
You see, I'm not normal. Yeah, I know what you're thinking--oh, she's "special." What's so special about that? Everyone is special. Everyone is unique in their own way. No, I'm not talking about that sort of "abnormal." I'm talking about, I'm not normal. Or, as the lovely kids on the playground liked to say, "I'm ugly."
It's true. No, I'm not one of those skinny anorexic girls with flowing blonde hair who thinks she's ugly and ends up being the hottest girl at school. When I say I'm ugly, I mean I'm ugly.
It was something I was born with. So I guess you could say my story starts off in the emergency room. I was born with a face deformation, better known as a cleft palate. To make things even worse, I'm fat. It's an emotional thing. I get sad, I eat. I get happy, I eat. I get angry, I eat. And yet, I just can't seem to find the time to exercise in-between all the eating (cough). So not only did the kids make fun of me because of my face, but the ugly girl was also the fat girl. It's not so bad when you're not me. You're not me. I'm me. And it is bad. Or, it was. Well, it still is… but it's better. Because I'm in love. And even better, he's in love with me, too.
CHAPTER 1
I was going to start my story off in a different place. I was going to take you through the years of torment I suffered in elementary school, middle school, and high school. But if I did that, you would stop reading my story. You want to hear about the love of my life.
I met him on nippy winter day. I would have been walking in a winter wonderland, except I hated winter. So it was no wonderland. I was bundled inside of a huge coat (huge clothes for huge people) and some raggedy mittens. I hated mittens. I felt like a cat or something… something with a paw. I didn't like animals, so I hated feeling like one. But I did feel like eating one. You know, a burger.
I was just walking down the street… well, actually it was up, since it was a hill, and minding my own business, when out of nowhere this gigantic snowball hits me across the face. I scrape it off and try to remember why I love winter so much, except for I realize yet again that I hate winter. I hear a cackling from behind a bush. It's a male cackling.
"Ooh, I'm so funny! I'm Mister Bush Man who has fun by smacking fat ugly girls in the face with snowballs! Oooh, I'm so smart!" I say to the bush. Then I take my backpack--which is loaded with heavy textbooks--and throw it at the bush.
You don't know how satisfying it is to hear a muffled groan coming from someone who has just tormented you.
"Oh, sorry, did I hurt you?" I called out to Bush Man. "I was just having fun with my backpack shaped snowball."
More groans from the bush.
I walked over to the bush to get my backpack. I wasn't done with this punk yet--he had to be confronted.
I parted the bush and saw him. Of course he had to be hot. All hot guys were mean. No hot guy wanted a fat ugly girl. Anyway, when he saw my face, he gasped in disgust.
"Oh shut up," I told him. "You act like you've never seen someone like me before. Close your mouth and give me my backpack. Next time you'll think before socking one to a fattie." He handed me my backpack. "Thank you. It was nice meeting you. Actually, it wasn't. But it was nice seeing my backpack meet your face. Mess with me again, and you'll hurt even more. Farewell."
And I strolled off.
I was used to being teased, pushed, having stuff thrown at me, et cetera. This guy was completely unoriginal.
But me, I was a work of art.
You see, the predator doesn't usually expect its prey to fight back. You bite at the prey, the prey gets weak. Uh-uh, not for me. You bite at me, and I'll snap you in two.
So, I went to school the next morning in a good mood, having forgotten about the incident with Mr. Bush. Why would I spend my time thinking about that loser when I had 15 pounds of homework to work through?
To be completely honest, though, I actually liked school--minus the whole social part of it. But facts, numbers, and all that stuff interested me. Plus, I didn't have a life so I spent most of my spare time doing extra credit.
Anyway, being into school went with my life motto: "If you can't be skinny or pretty, you have to be smart."
My best friend, Maria, was waiting for me at my locker. Of course, she was fat, too. Only, she wasn't ugly. She was really pretty. So she got to slide by the smart thing. (Actually, Maria was pretty smart--but she was also pretty lazy. See, I told you she was pretty.)
"Hey, Wide load!" She greeted me with my beloved nickname. I never was angry when Maria insulted me because with her, it wasn't an insult. I called her fat names, too. It was just our way of laughing at the situation. What was our situation? Life. "Did you do the Physics homework?"
I rolled my eyes. "Duh, Tubby, you know my motto." I opened my backpack and reached for the homework, then handed it to Maria. "Have it back to me by next period."
"Thanks, you're a lifesaver!" Maria hugged me.
"No, I just ate too many of them," I smiled.
Though I was a very cynical person in high school, I could let down my walls around Maria. She didn't care what I looked like, she knew that I was a great person underneath.
Too bad I couldn't say that about the remaining 499 seniors at my high school.
As we walked down the hall, Maria told me about what she had done the previous night. I wasn't really paying attention, because straight ahead was Mr. Bush.
"Hey, Maria, you know that kid?" I interrupted her.
"Yeah, that's Justin Timberlake. He's in a few of my classes."
"Really? I never saw him before last night," I paused for dramatic effect, "when he threw a snowball at me."
"What a jerk!" Maria nearly exploded. "I don't know too much about him--he's new, I think. You know, I always hope that one of those hot guys will end up being sensitive and caring. Is it too much to ask?"
"Yes," I told her simply. "Ugly people get the great personalities while beautiful people get horrible personalities. It's the way life works, Maria. And beautiful people are never--I mean, never--supposed to be with ugly people. It just messes up the balance of life."
Maria rolled her eyes. "You and your theories."
"You roll your eyes, but you know they're true."
By this time, we were within ten feet of Bushman. He was leaning against his locker, trying to look like a Rebel without a Cause. To me, he looked like a Jerk without a Brain.
His blue eyes swept the hallway and landed on me. I wasn't a mind reader, but I knew what he was thinking at that moment: "There's that fat, crazy, ugly girl that went off on me last night!" I knew he was thinking that because he had that look of recognition stuck on his face.
I put on my best smile and waved to him.
His eyebrows went up in confusion and he slowly waved back to me.
"What's going on?" Maria whispered, confusion also on her face.
I just kept smiling as we walked closer and closer to Mr. Bush. Finally, when we got to him, I stopped.
"Hi, how are you?" I said in a sweet, sing-songy voice.
Justin scratched his head. "I'm good. How are you?"
"I'm great!" I said enthusiastically. "I just wanted to apologize about the way I treated you yesterday. I shouldn't have thrown my backpack at you."
"Hey, no problem." Justin shrugged it off. "I shouldn't have hit you with that snowball."
"You see, it's just that… I didn't know."
Again, Justin looked confused. "You didn't know what?"
"I just feel so horrible!" I cried. "I've never, ever hurt someone as special as you."
"Huh?" Poor Justin was so confused. (Poor Justin being sarcastic.)
"Well, you're the guy that went to Oz, right?" I twisted a strand of my hair.
"What are you talking about?"
"It's just that… I've never hurt anyone who didn't have a brain." I stood there and let my insult with Justin register. As soon as he got it, I grabbed Maria's arm and strolled down the hallway, my head high.
The next time I saw Justin was at lunchtime. Even though most people would think that a fat girl would LOVE lunchtime, it was the time of the day that I dreaded the most. Lunchtime is all about socializing. And while I loved chatting it up with Maria, it was depressing to see all the jocks and cheerleaders in the distance, smiling with their ultra bright white teeth and their blonde hair.
There was also that uncomfortable feeling of being watched. I've caught the disgusted looks of bystanders (or, bysitters) many times. Even though I ate the normal lunch that the cafeteria provided for everyone, people still looked at me as if I ordered a whole cow. And I never even let a candy bar near my lips… I had had a bad experience with that once.
It was my sophomore year, and I was sitting with Maria (so much had changed since then) and I pulled out a Hershey's chocolate bar. I was eating it, enjoying it, when this chick came up to me. I noticed her from a couple of my classes, so I actually thought she was joining us for lunch. This was when I was really naïve.
"Hey, what's up?" I smiled.
"Alison, I'm worried about you." She put her hand on my shoulder. "I can't just sit by and allow this to keep happening."
Maria and I exchanged glances. "Allow what to keep happening?"
"This," she said, snatching my candy bar. She threw it on the ground and stepped on it. "If you keep eating all this junk food, you're going to die early."
"Thanks for telling me that," I said to her enthusiastically. "Now I am going to eat even more junk food!"
"Didn't you just hear what I said? You'll DIE if you eat that junk!"
"Exactly! If I die early, it means I'll be able to get away from people like you sooner than I would if not for the assistance of the Hershey's Chocolate company."
She just shook her head and marched off. The next day, I saw her eating a Snickers.
What did I learn from that girl? I learned that fat people eating junk food, no matter what quantity, disgusted skinny people. And as much as I liked to act as if I didn't care, I did. So, I saved candy bars for after school.
Anyway, back to the story I was telling you. So, the next time I saw Justin was at lunchtime.
I was already sitting at my usual table with Maria. We didn't eat lunch with anyone else--no one else would fit. Well, that's what we told ourselves to make ourselves feel better.
Justin was sitting down with the popular crew, and I rolled my eyes.
"Funny how a person's ticket into that group is just to look good. I bet you they don't know anything about Justin Timberpond or whatever his name is." I angrily bit into my cheeseburger.
"But, you're being sort of hypocritical, Ali."
"How so?"
Maria grinned. "You know the ticket into our group is looking bad."
"Yeah, well, we're the minority, so I don't care if I am hypocritical." I stuck my tongue out at her. "We would offer encouragement and support to anyone who wanted to join our group. They only offer tickets to football games. And that's only if you're hot."
"Hey, you know what?" Maria changed the subject. (Or so I thought.) "That Justin boy passed me a note in class today."
"He did?" I was suspicious. "He didn't ask you out or anything, did you? I mean, I think you're gorgeous, but guys like him like to ask fat girls out as a joke and then stand them up or something."
Maria just rolled her eyes. "No, he didn't ask me out. You're so dramatic. Here, I'll show you the note." Maria dug into her backpack and pulled out a neatly folded note. She threw it to my side of the table.
I carefully unfolded it. Justin's all-capital boy scrawl stood out from Maria's bubbly girl script. I began to read it. The first line was Justin's.
Hey, Maria, right? What's up with your friend?
Yes, my name is Maria. And I have more than one friend.
You know who I'm talking about. What's her problem?
If you are referring to my friend Alison, she doesn't have a problem. No, wait, she does have a problem. It's you.
What are you talking about? She's the one who came to me all psycho this morning.
I don't even know why I am humoring you in continuing this note. I'll just say this: you're the one who attacked her with a snowball last night. Do you think you're the first one to do something to hurt Alison? You're calling her psycho, but I think that your ego is probably bruised because the fat girl actually retaliated. She's not the one with the problem--you are.
Whatever. You're both two weird fat girls.
I finished the letter with my mouth hanging open. "Did he seriously write that?"
"Yeah," Maria nodded. She picked up her carton of milk and took a sip.
She was handling it a lot better than I was. I was furious. I was constantly made fun of, but he had no right to make fun of Maria. We were both used to being called fat, but I had never, ever heard anyone call Maria weird. Something about the way he wrote that got me angry to the point of tears in my eyes.
"Ali, are you crying?" Maria asked, concerned.
I angrily brushed away the tear falling down my cheek. "I'm just so angry! You're the nicest person I know… and he called you weird!"
"It's not a bad thing to be weird."
"It's just the way he said it! I'm so tired of people like him!" I slammed the table with my fist, ignoring the new tears that were falling down my cheeks. "How do people live with themselves after tormenting people like us? Why can't they mind their own business and leave us alone! So what if we're fat! We're still people!"
I stood up and shoved my lunch tray off of the table. It went down with a big slam. People turned to stare at me, not knowing what to do; should they laugh because I dropped my tray? Or should they stare because I knowingly pushed it on the floor? They chose to stare.
I bent down and grabbed my backpack, trying to busy myself. I didn't want those people to see me crying. Maria got her stuff together as well.
I stood up and tried to storm out of the cafeteria as fast as I could. Unfortunately, mobility is not one of my strongest areas. I guess I look funny when I move fast, because people started to laugh as I exited the building.
As much as I tried to stop them, the tears kept coming. I knew my face must have been tomato red at that point. I wanted to get out of there so that no one would see me.
I must have not been watching where I was going because I ran straight into a guy.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"You should watch where you're going, fatso."
I looked up, only to see the person who I really didn't want to see: Justin Timberlake.
It was disgusting. Justin was wearing a stupid smirk on his face, probably ecstatic that he had caught me at a bad moment.
"What are you, deaf?" His angry eyes looked into mine.
Something about the look in his eyes made me angrier than I had ever been in my life.
So, I slapped him. I slapped him hard. When I say hard, I mean it. I put all of my emotion into that slap.
His face was red where my hand had landed on it. He just stared at me with shock in his eyes.
I was still crying. I shoved him out of my way and tried to run (unsuccessfully) as fast as I could to the nearest girls' room. When I got there, I began to sob. I didn't care about anyone else who was in there.
Luckily, there was only one other girl, who patted me on the back and then quickly exited.
I stood there, crying like I had never cried before. The choking sobs reverberated throughout the bathroom. The echoes just made me cry even more.
Maria came in a couple of minutes later.
"Sorry I didn't come with you right away. I had some business to take care of." She smirked.
But her smirk was wiped away once she registered the sad state I was in.
"Oh, Ali! Don't cry, you're stronger than this!" She rushed to my side. "You've never let these jerks get to you--don't start now."
"I… can't… stop… crying…" I choked out.
Maria wrapped me in her embrace. "It's going to be okay. This is our last year of high school. After this, we're out of here. We won't have to be around people like him."
Maria rocked me back and forth, and soon I began to calm down.
"See, emotions like that only last a little while," she told me.
I pushed down on the sink faucet and caught some of the cold water in my hands. I splashed it onto my face.
"You know what," Maria said after seconds of silence. "We should go out and… I don't know… see a movie. Let's forget about school for the rest of today--let's just blow it off."
I let out a little laugh. "Okay."
Maria put her arm around my shoulder and we walked out of the bathroom, out of the school, and into the movies--to forget about our problems, even if it was only for two hours.
The good thing about cutting school was that I didn't have to deal with two more classes for that day. The bad thing was that I still had to face it for six more months.
I reluctantly got out of bed that next morning. I reluctantly walked to school. I reluctantly went inside our school building. But, I just put on my game face--the one that I always wore, and went inside. I heard some snickers, but most people were too concerned with their own affairs to care about me.
Maria was waiting at my locker, as usual.
"Hey, girl," she said softly. "How are you?"
"I'm okay, I guess," I shrugged.
"I have something that'll make you feel better," Maria pulled her hands out from behind her back. She held out a bag of gummy bears.
"Food," I laughed. "Of course that would make me feel better."
I put some books into my locker and then we started on our way to class. I saw Justin ahead, pulling some of his own textbooks out of his locker. I held my head higher and feigned an air of confidence as we strolled in his direction.
Maria and I were almost past him when he called out my name.
"Alison, wait!" he said.
I stopped, even though my instincts told me to keep going.
"I… I can't believe I was so mean to you yesterday. I'm never like that." He said. I rolled my eyes. "It's just… there's so much pressure at this school to fit in, and I thought… well, anyway… I'm sorry." He patted me on the back.
"Thanks," I said softly.
Maria and I walked away.
"Wow, maybe he's different than we thought," Maria said. "That was very man of him to own up and apologize."
"Yeah, maybe you're right." As I said that, I heard laughs behind us. I tried to dismiss them, but with every step I took, the laughs got louder. Suddenly, an image flashed in my head and I remembered him patting my back. "Maria, look at my back, please!"
It was just as I had suspected. Justin had put a sign on my back. It read, "Caution: Wide load."
I shook my head in disgust. Yesterday I had had a breakdown. But today, I was back to tough-as-nails Ali. And if Justin wanted to play hardball with me, I was game. I had a few tricks up my sleeve.
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