“Wow! The ice cream must be good in New York,” he commented, grinning broadly, and her mother looked pained, not at his comment but at Victoria’s appearance. She had gained back everything she lost, while correcting papers at night and on weekends and working on her classes. She had been living on Chinese takeout, and double chocolate milk shakes. The diet she kept meaning to start just hadn’t happened. Her whole focus had been on her classes and her students and not on herself. And she kept eating all the wrong foods to give herself energy, comfort, and strength.

“I guess so, Dad,” Victoria said vaguely.

“Why don’t you steam fish and vegetables, dear?” her mother said. Victoria marveled that after not seeing her for almost three months, her weight was all they could think about. Gracie just looked at her and beamed. She didn’t care what size Victoria was, she just loved her. The two sisters walked off arm in arm toward the baggage claim, happy to be back together.

On Thanksgiving day, Victoria helped her mother cook the turkey, and she enjoyed the day and the meal with them, miraculously without negative comments from her father. The weather was balmy and warm, and they sat in the backyard afterward, and her mother asked her about her teaching.

“Do you like it?” She was still puzzled why her daughter would want to be a teacher.

“I love it.” She grinned at her sister then. “And my sophomore students are horrible. They’re all little monsters like you. I confiscate their iPods all the time, so they’ll listen to me.”

“Why don’t you make them write lyrics?” Gracie suggested as her older sister looked at her in amazement. “That’s what my teacher did, and we loved it.”

“That’s brilliant!” Victoria could hardly wait to try it on them. She had been planning to have her juniors and seniors write poetry in the weeks before Christmas. But lyrics for the sophomores was a great idea. “Thank you, Gracie.”

“Just ask me about the sophomores,” she said proudly, since she was one herself.

Her father managed to stay off the subject of her weight for the rest of the visit, and her mother discreetly said that she should go to Overeaters Anonymous, which really hurt Victoria’s feelings, but other than that, it was a warm, comfortable weekend, especially with Gracie. And they all drove her back to the airport on Sunday. She was planning to come back in four weeks to spend Christmas with them, so this time their goodbyes weren’t tearful. She was going to spend the whole vacation with them, since they had two weeks off school. And on the plane on the way back to New York, she thought again about Gracie’s suggestion to have the sophomores write lyrics.

She presented the idea to her sophomore class on Wednesday morning, and they looked ecstatic. It was something they could really wrap their minds around, and for once they looked enthusiastic about an assignment. Her juniors and seniors were less thrilled with the poetry they had to write, and she was starting to help some of them with their essays for their college applications. She had her hands full.

The lyrics the sophomores wrote for her were terrific. One boy brought a guitar in, and they tried to put music to some of his words. The assignment was a huge success, and they asked if they could extend the project until Christmas vacation, and she agreed. And she gave most of them excellent grades for what they did. She had never given so many As. And the poetry assignments were surprisingly good too. By Christmas vacation, Victoria felt as though she had won their confidence, and all of them were behaving better in her classroom. Helen had noticed it too. The students looked happy and enthusiastic now when they left her room.

“What did you do to them? Give them drugs?”

“I took my fifteen-year-old sister’s suggestion. I’ve had the sophomores writing lyrics,” Victoria said proudly, and Helen was impressed by her creativity.

“That’s pure genius. I wish I could do that in my class.”

“I stole the idea from my sister’s teacher. But it worked. And the older kids have been writing poetry. A few of them really have talent.”

“So do you,” Helen said with a look of admiration. “You’re a damn good teacher. I hope you know that. And I’m happy that you’re learning to control the class. It’s better for them, and you. Even at their age, they need boundaries, discipline, and structure.”

“I’ve been working on it,” Victoria said honestly, “but sometimes I think I really screw up. There’s a lot more creativity to teaching than I originally thought.”

“We all screw up,” Helen said candidly. “That doesn’t make you a bad teacher. You keep trying and you find what works till you win them over. That’s the best you can do.”

“I love what I’m doing,” she said happily, “even if they drive me crazy sometimes. But they don’t seem as cocky lately. One of the kids even wants to go to Northwestern because I said I loved the school.” Helen was smiling at her as she listened. She could see Victoria’s passion for her profession in her eyes, and it warmed Helen’s heart.

“I hope Eric is smart enough to hire you permanently after Carla comes back. He’ll be crazy if he loses you,” Helen said warmly.

“I’m just grateful to be here. We’ll see what happens about next year.” She knew that contracts would be offered in March and April, and she didn’t know if they’d have an opening for her. She hoped so, but nothing was sure. For now, it was working, for her and the kids and the school. Eric Walker, the headmaster, had been hearing good things about her from the students. And two of the parents had commented that they liked her assignments. She really inspired the kids, and when necessary she pushed them. She thought outside the box, and wasn’t afraid to try new things. She was exactly the kind of teacher they wanted.

And she had stopped eating quite as voraciously after Thanksgiving. Her father’s comment, and her mother’s suggesting Overeaters Anonymous, had slowed her down a little. She hadn’t started any crazy new diets yet, and she was planning to do that over Christmas. She had thought about going to Weight Watchers, but she told herself she didn’t have time. But for now she had eased up on the ice cream and pizza. And she was buying salads and cooked chicken breasts to eat in the kitchen with the others when she got home, and she made sure she had fruit for an afternoon snack. She still hadn’t developed a social life, other than the occasional movie date with Helen, but she enjoyed her roommates. She saw more of Harlan than anyone, because Bill was always with Julie, and Bunny had been going to Boston almost every weekend to be with her boyfriend. She was thinking of moving to be with him. But Harlan was around almost as much as she was. He was single and unattached too. And he worked as hard as she did. When he came home at night, he was exhausted and happy to crash in front of the TV in his room, and meet her for a snack in the kitchen.

“So where are you going for Christmas?” she asked him one night over a cup of tea.

“I’ve been invited to South Beach. I’m not sure if I’m going. Miami isn’t really my scene.” He was a serious man who worked diligently at the museum. She knew he wasn’t close to his family, and wasn’t planning to go back to Mississippi for the holidays. He said his parents were still upset that he was gay, and he wasn’t welcome, which she thought was sad for him.

“I’m going back to L.A. to see my parents and sister,” Victoria said pensively, thinking that her parents had never fully accepted her either. She had been a misfit and an outcast in their midst all her life. Even her size upset them and made her look different. Her mother would have preferred to die than be the size she was, and would never have let that happen. And her father still couldn’t resist remarks at her expense, with no awareness of how hurtful they were to her. She never believed that his cruelty was on purpose.

“Do you miss them when you’re here?” Harlan asked, curious about her family.

“Sometimes. They’re familiar. Mostly I miss my little sister. She’s always been my baby.” Victoria smiled at Harlan as he poured them both another cup of tea.

“I have an older brother who hates me. Being gay was not the thing to be in Tupelo, Mississippi, when I was growing up, and it still isn’t. He and his friends used to beat me up all the time. I didn’t even know why till I was fifteen and figured out why they did it. Up until then, I thought I was just different. After that, I knew. I left the minute I turned eighteen, and came to college up here. I think they were as relieved as I was. I only go back once every few years, when I run out of excuses.” It sounded sad to her and very lonely. But her life at home would have been too, without Gracie.

“I’m the odd man out in my family too,” she admitted. “They’re all thin people with brown eyes and dark hair. I’m the family freak. My father always gives me a hard time about my weight. My mother leaves clippings on my desk about new diets.”

“That’s mean,” Harlan said sadly, although he had noticed the things and quantities she ate when she was tired or depressed. He thought she had a pretty face and great legs, despite the generous middle. But in spite of it, she was a good-looking woman. He was surprised that she wasn’t dating. “Some parents do so much damage,” he said thoughtfully. “It makes me glad I’ll never have kids. I wouldn’t want to do to anyone what they did to me. My brother is a real jerk. He works in a bank and he’s dull as dishwater. He’s married and has two kids. He thinks being gay is like a disease. He keeps hoping I’ll get over it, like amnesia, and remember that I’m straight, which would be less embarrassing for him.” Harlan laughed as he said it. He was twenty-six years old and comfortable about who he was. He was hoping to become a curator at the Met eventually, even though the salary wasn’t great. But he was very dedicated to his work, just as Victoria was to teaching. “Will Christmas be fun in L.A.?” he asked with a wistful expression, and she nodded. It would be because of Gracie.