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asked.
    Lindy shrugged. “Oh, someone decided to edit my flyer. Probably one of my students. I’m sure they thought it was funny, but I don’t.”
    Gillian straightened out the crumpled sheet and read the revised version.
    Are You Feeling Like a Total Lard?
    Do You Look Like a Bowling Ball?
    How about a Beached Whale?
    Join Our New Loser’s Club!
    We Meet in the Grocery Store!
    Make Friends with Other Losers!
    Lose with Losers!
    Call Lardy Lindy at 1-800-EAT-MORE
    “Very original,” Gillian nonchalantly tossed the flyer into the garbage. “Whoever wrote that is a regular Shakespeare.”
    “I saw that kid, Brinkley Myers, mowing the lawn across the street,” Bennett said, chewing on his sandwich. “I bet it was him. He always looks like he’s up to no good—just got one of those faces.”
    “It wouldn’t surprise me,” Lindy agreed. “He was one of my worst students. He thought he was so great at football that he didn’t have to apply himself to any of his academic subjects. I was stuck being his academic advisor. What a nightmare! He barely graduated and now he’s mowing lawns. Guess he might be a little bitter,” she sniggered. “He still wears that letter jacket all over town. And we’re the losers? Ha! Pass me the chips please, Bennett.”
    “That might be the last sandwich with three slices of American cheese and regular mayo you have for a while,” Bennett taunted Lindy. “That is, if we go on your Weight Watchers plan.”
    “Gillian wants to do that plan, too,” Lindy said defensively.
    “Well, I just cannot eat all of the meat they have on those low-carb plans. Gross!” Gillian shivered dramatically, her hair floating in front of her eyes.
    “Are you a vegetarian?” James inquired.
    “I eat some chicken and fish, but I’d really like to be. I can almost sense the pain of those animals . . .” Gillian paused and then continued. “The problem I have is if I don’t eat any meat, I end up eating too many heavy starches like bread and potatoes. It all sticks right on me. I don’t even have a dent to indicate a waist anymore. I’m like a walking marshmallow.”
    The rest of the group nodded empathetically. “I used to be a lean, mean, wrestling machine,” Bennett said, wiping the potato chip grease shining on his fingers onto his paper napkin. “All that muscle has turned to flab. Know why? ’Cause I eat during my deliveries. Lots of snacks from the 7-Eleven.”
    “What do you eat that’s so bad?” Lucy asked.
    “Donut holes mostly,” Bennett answered. “You know, the little ones that come in a box. I just pop ’em right in. I eat a whole box every day, and I am not a tall man.” He turned to James. “You can carry some extra weight pretty well. Me, I can’t.”
    Lindy piped right up at that comment. “I’m short, too! My deal is that I can’t stop eating candy. I keep bite-sized pieces in my drawer at school as a reward for kids who help me with something, like unloading the pottery kiln. Problem is, I keep eating it.” Lindy patted her stomach. “I’ve eaten myself out of all the clothes in my closet. I have got to do something. You see, I’d love to catch the eye of our new principal. He’s Latino and so handsome . . . but he looks right through me whenever we meet in the hall. I want to make him look twice!”
    “Here, here!” Gillian raised her cup of water in salute to Lindy’s romantic dream.
    Feeling safe enough to contribute, James decided to volunteer his own problem with food addiction. “I’m a cheese puff man. Once a bag is open, I just can’t stop eating them. I guess . . . well, the real trouble is that they actually . . .” he paused, “make me feel good.”
    Everyone was quiet for a moment and James wondered if he had confessed too much with that last statement. Lucy looked at him kindly with those lovely blue eyes and nodded in understanding. He felt his heart pounding beneath his ribs.
    “I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “For