Almost, Maybe

By Katie L. Tyler

The world around us isn’t as forgiving as the people who love us the most.

Sometimes we try so hard only to meet a dead end on a path that we thought was the right one. I met Matty in sixth grade. I fell in love with him over the course of our adolescent years. The thing about us is there never really was an us. There was a promise, an almost, a maybe. Somewhere down the line I have full faith our stars would’ve eventually aligned. It would’ve been right. It would’ve been perfect. But not everyone is meant to get a fairy tale ending. Especially when the person I was destined to be with happened to be his best friend.

Growing up, Mya Jackson has always been the plus size advocate in her family. After being constantly degraded by friends, relatives and random outsiders, she accepted that she didn’t deserve happiness. Battling mind over matter, Mya worked through her inner demons and changed her perspective on her body as well as what she wanted in life. Actions speak louder than words and scars manipulate the heart from healing completely. Only those who are strong enough can come out alive.

Matty Edwards, captain of West Creek High's football team, a role model to many, and most importantly, a best friend to Mya Jackson. While being faced with many adversities in his life, one of the hardest trials of all has been caving in to the pressures of being popular while struggling with his own internal conflicts. Hidden secrets are never meant to surface, but when a prideful image was more important than the desires of his heart, he lost the one thing that meant the most to him, her. Little did he know his best friend Kameron was awaiting his fall to sweep in and steal the woman of his dreams.

Time waits for no one, but in the end, timing is everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katie L. Tyler
• Release date: Oct 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737775706

Katie L. Tyler

​Katie L. Tyler is a freelance editor and author of Young Adult, New Adult, and Poetry books. Be the first to know about upcoming projects, exclusive content, and more by signing up for her newsletter. When she's not reading, writing, or hanging out with the animals on her ranch, you can find her on her Instagram, @katieltylerauthor and @chasingliterarylove

Book preview

Six Years Old, Matty

M atthew, darling, what have we talked about? Please sit down and give your mother some peace.

I stare at the red-headed old hag in a white coat dumbfoundedly. Every Tuesday she looks the same; wrinkly, unkept, unwell and overall has a strong odor of BO. If I could guess, she’s in her late 60’s, but she believes she’s superior to everyone else all because she’s got the title brain surgeon.

If you would fix my mommy, you wouldn’t have to worry about me, I reply, taking a seat in the hard-plastic hospital chair.

Don’t you think I’m trying my hardest, little one? Your mom is very special to me, and I aim to please.

I fiddle with the zipper to my jacket.

Well, you’re not pleasing me.

Dr. Angie looks at me in sadness. She takes her hand and pushes my hair back on my forehead.

I promise you; I am trying.

I refuse to look at her. I hear it every time. I don’t know what’s wrong with my mommy, but I do know it’s serious. Serious enough that my dad is staying home and coming to doctor’s appointments with us. He never does that.

I hear my mom at night when she tells him he doesn’t have to come. I hear the defeat and sadness in his answer when he says he does. I hear every cry. Sometimes they cry together. I also don’t know what to believe. My mommy tells me she’s fine, but I don’t know if I believe her. She wouldn’t lie to me, would she? She’s my mommy. Mommies never lie.

Twelve Years Old, Matty

D o I have to go in? I plead with my mom.

It’s the first day of sixth grade for me in the middle of yet another semester as the new kid. I was fine with being homeschooled again, but apparently, I’m not learning anything, so I had to be enrolled in public school. My mom wants us to have a permanent location to live in. A place my dad can’t force us to move from. He thinks he’s slick, but I know the reason we leave is because of his affairs. Each town has a new whore. Each apartment has a new flaw. Each moving company knows us by our first names. The minute the secret’s out, my mom shuts down until Dad promises us more.

This time she’s made him buy us a house. A real house. A big house. We’ve never lived in a house. We’ve only known fancy apartments and townhomes. I was beginning to enjoy being the only one home in such a large place that actually feels more like a home than any other place we’ve ever lived, but now I’m forced to be here seventy percent of my day and that’s ruined.

I might just be salty because now I can’t play video games into the bright morning light with my friends and sleep until dusk. In a way, this is probably better for me, but I will never admit that.

You’ll make friends, Matthew, I promise. She looks at me with stern eyes. Eyes that beg me not to argue with her. Eyes that I know far too well.

That’s not the point, Mom. What do you want me to do? Triple homework? I don’t want to be back in public school.

She places her hand on her hip. My mom is gorgeous, she knows this, but she’s also that beautiful kind of mother that can turn pure evil the minute you say or doing something wrong.

Matthew Allen, you are going to public school whether you like it or not. No more remarks. Grab your backpack and follow Mr. Lester. I will see you after class.

I don’t say anything further. There’s no point. We’re already here. The only way I can leave is if I suddenly start dying. Maybe I can break my arm on the monkey-bars or something. Isn’t that what normal kids do? At least that’s what my friend Kameron says. I met him through Xbox a year ago. He supposedly goes to this school, but I’ve never met him in person nor know what he looks like. I told him I was terrified to be back in public school, and he said he got out of fourth grade by breaking his arm. I think I can deal with a broken arm if it means going back home.

Right this way, Matty, Mr. Lester says, tugging on my shoulder to turn me around. My mom fixes her skirt and turns on her heel. She says nothing more to me before exiting and leaving me alone.

I’m always alone. Alone is peaceful. I would do anything to be alone right now.

My name is Matthew, I correct the older man.

His dark eyes crinkle, but he crouches down and pushes his finger into my chest. You look like a Matty to me, kid. Matthews are boring. You seem too eager to be boring.

I don’t know how to respond. I’ve never been called Matty before, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it. It sounds a lot better than Matthew.

If I’m Matty then you’re just Lester. There’s no need for manners.

Lester begins laughing. His teeth shine as he smiles wide. I somehow find myself smiling too.

Alright, kid. I’ll call you Matty and you can call me Lester. Deal?

He reaches out his hand and I don’t hesitate. If I’m going to be stuck here, then I might as well make some sort of alliance. Even if it’s with someone on the administrative staff.

Deal, I say as I pull back.

Lester nods and starts walking to our destination.

So Matty, where are you from?

I follow him, but I find myself in a slight jog as I try to keep up.

I’m from everywhere, I reply. He turns down a dark hallway and the automatic lights click on.

Okay, he says. Have you ever been to public school, or have you always been homeschooled?

I’ve been to public school before. I don’t really care for it. My dad moves us a lot, so my mom thought it was easier for me to be homeschooled the past few years. I liked it. Wish I was still doing it.

I have a feeling you’ll like it here, he tells me. We push through two doors, and I begin wondering if I’ll be able to find my way out for my next class. I don’t even know what my first class is or how many classes I have.

We’ll see about that, I say, opposed to his opinion. I highly doubt I’ll enjoy it here. If I do, it’ll just hurt more when my dad makes us leave.

I guess we will, Lester says, stopping in front of a red door at the end of the hall. First period, choir, he says, showcasing the door as if it is something special.

Choir?! I basically shout. I don’t sing.

Most people don’t, he shrugs. But we don’t have any more openings for band, so you’re stuck this semester.

Come on, I beg. I can’t do choir.

Lester opens the door, and everyone looks in my direction. My heart drops. My anxiety swarms. Oh, what I would do to not be the new kid.

Lip sing, he says, placing his hand on my shoulder and pushes me inside.

Mrs. Theresa, our new student has arrived. Meet Matty Edwards.

A lady with short brown hair, chubby cheeks and pink lipstick catches my attention. She’s wearing a bright orange sundress and lime green flip-flops. What kind of school am I actually in?

Matty! she yells, throwing her hands in the air and comes towards us. What a treat it is for you to join us! We are so happy to have you!

She embraces me in a tight hug and my eyes go wide. Is it normal for people to hug you? I’ve never been hugged by a teacher before.

Come, take a seat next to Mya. We’re learning a new song today, so this is perfect timing.

Mrs. Theresa leads me all the way to the back row and towards the wall. A girl dressed in dark jeans and a black hoodie sits alone at the end with an empty seat beside her. Her long, light-colored hair covers her face, but I can see a hint of pink lining her cheeks. I smile and take a seat, dropping my backpack and looking at her.

Hi, I say after a moment. She turns to me with wide eyes and a furrowed brow.

Hi, she responds.

I’m Matty, I say, extending my hand. She stares at it. I feel a sense of awkwardness set in, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

Look, I have to at least make one friend here today, I add, smiling, trying to ease the mood, but she still stares at my hand.

Is there something wrong with it? I look down at it and don’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Maybe she’s a germ freak? Kameron warned me about those. Apparently public school is filled with them in Alabama. You wouldn’t think so considering the way this state is talked about, but I guess it’s true.

Okay, I say, beginning to retract my hand, but she reaches out.

Mya, she states, taking it and firmly shaking it back. I grin in response. Her facial features soften as she pulls back.

I watch the sleeve of her dark hoodie pull upwards, revealing an arm full of bracelets as we pull away. Bangle bracelets to be exact. I only know this because I just bought my baby cousin some of the same ones that she wanted for her birthday. Well, my mom bought them, but I gave them to her.

On instinct, I reach forward and take hold of her arm to examine them.

These are sick! I grin. Her eyes widen slightly at my touch, but she wears a cheeky grin. I need to remember to stop talking in gamer lingo while I’m here. If I don’t, I’m going to be proclaimed as the biggest nerd.

Thanks, Mya says, allowing her eyes to look me straight in mine.

There’s a solid moment where I feel butterflies dance in my stomach, and I cannot move. I realize she is one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen. Freckles dance along her cheeks and up her nose. They’re light, but if they’re anything like mine, they’ll be bright and powerful in the sun once summer hits. There’s a single freckle on her top lip right in the highest peak that sends another rush of chills up my spine. Everything about this girl is inviting and warm.

Here, she says, breaking the silence. I retract my hand and she reaches up her arm, removing three of her bangles. She hands them to me, and I look at her in confusion. Wear these all day and I’ll be your friend, otherwise I make no promises.

My face shifts as I process her words.

You have yourself a deal, I reply, taking them from her and sliding them on my wrist. I struggle for a slight second, but once they’re on, they fit nicely. She smiles but then looks away, back to the teacher who sings loudly in the front. Her mouth opens and momentarily I believe she’s singing. Only when she leans over and shows me the words on her paper do I realize she is lip singing. Lester may have met his match. I might not hate it here at all.

Prologue, Mya

Do you know what it’s like to be ten years old and to be told that you are obese? I’m not talking about statistics given to you from a doctor. I’m talking about someone in your own family pointing out your body and making you feel uncomfortable in your own skin.

That’s what it’s like to be brought up in a toxic family. Sadly, toxicity is a never-ending cycle and the harm that is done from it can never really be repaired.

My parents are the greater gift from God though. Never once have I heard them tell me I had to lose weight to be accepted in society. They love me as I am, as every child should be loved. They know that being fat doesn’t define you. They know that words hurt. They know what is right and what is wrong in terms of parenting. They know how to protect me until they physically can’t. They are there for me every time I come home completely ruined because other people cannot see me as they do. They love what they’ve created and it’s a cying shame other people choose not to fully love me because of the shape of my body.

Scars last forever, especially the ones that cut deep. Why do people not understand that?

I can’t believe you’re turning eighteen this month, Whitney says as she turns onto the dirt road that leads us back to the shit-show of a family reunion we’re supposed to be attending. We left a while ago to get ice and here we are returning thirty minutes later with melted ice and a six-pack of cheap wine coolers.

Yeah, it happens, I say glancing out the passenger window at the tall oak trees. Being on this side of town and out of the city brings me inner peace. I like quiet. Quiet is peaceful.

You know, I was fat in high school, she nonchalantly says, causing the pit inside of my stomach to churn. My face falls. Here we go again.

I didn’t get my first kiss until I lost the weight. Don’t you think it’s time that you do?

I swallow hard.

Jeez. Talk about no filter.

Yeah, I manage to reply. I turn my head back to look at the road. If I keep my eyes focused on it maybe I can zone out enough to not be bothered by her words. Something you learn at a very young age when you’re not a size two is how you just agree when someone throws their opinion at you. If you act unbothered, the sooner the conversation will be over, and the sooner the humiliation will dissipate.

I’m just saying, Mya. I don’t want you to miss out on opportunities because some douche can’t see past your ass.

My ass isn’t the problem. It’s everywhere else that’s the problem.

I understand, I say, bouncing up in the seat and grabbing the grab bar above the window as she hits a pothole a little too fast.

It’s easy, cuz. Just watch what you eat and try to throw up if you eat too much or eat anything unhealthy. It works. It’s how I lost all of my weight.

You also weren’t fat, and you also developed an eating disorder that you still fight with, but we’re not here to judge, are we?

I’m here for you. You know that, right?

I flick my gaze in her direction and she looks at me with bright eyes, as if anything she’s just said to me wasn’t wrong. I nod.

Good. My mom and dad are so worried that you’ll never find a guy, but I know that’s not the case. You’re beautiful for a big girl. You’ll be stunning once we get you down to where you need to be.

My teeth bite down on the inside of my cheek. I feel anger, sadness, and retaliation all trying to fight their way out.

Where exactly do I need to be? I can’t help but ask. I want to know where her ideal weight of me lands. Where exactly I am in her mind of bitterness. I want to know exactly what she thinks of me.

I would say at least down thirty, if not more.

I thought my anger was valid moments ago. It’s top tier now. Statistically I’m not even that overweight. Sure, I’m not as small as my classmates nor can I shop in the teen section at clothing stores, but I do have a full figure that included size C boobs by the age of fifteen. I’m not a couch potato that sits around all day eating her feelings either. I’m a regular fucking kid whose metabolism doesn’t work as fast as everyone else’s. I’m just larger.

That’s kind of a lot, I say, trying to keep my responses as minimal as possible.

It’s nothing, she spits, throwing her hand in the air. It’ll all be worth it in the end. I’ll be here every step of the way! You know I’m only picking at you because I love you! We’ve always looked out for each other, and I think I’ve been neglecting you too much lately. I should’ve spoken up sooner.

I take a long sigh. She’s lying. She won’t be here and honestly, I’m kind of glad. Whitney is three years older than me and lives in a different town with her new boyfriend. The only time I see her is during events like this. Events I don’t even want to attend because they are all the same. If Whit wouldn’t have mentioned my weight already, I know for a fact another relative would’ve as soon as we got back.

Someone probably still will. Give it time. They all do. It’s all they seem to care about. It’s all anyone ever cares about. I should get a t-shirt printed that says Mya Jackson, fat freak. My love of books and fascination within science puts me at the top of the list. I don’t know why intelligence is always looked at as uncool and, for the most part, is judged upon. I would rather have my head in books than have my head anywhere else. Lucky for me, school hasn’t ever been as crucial as my blood. I have friends. I’ve had my first kiss. I’m pretty well liked, and I feel as if I’m living out every high school opportunity as I should. My weight has never stood in my way on the social ladder of popularity. Sure, I’m not as known as the captain of the cheer team, but who wants to be?

I understand what Whitney is saying, I really do, but for the most part I wish my family would just leave me the hell alone and let me live my life without their input. I’m doing just fine. I am who I am. Why should I force myself to change? I like my life.

I’m different, but being different is what makes me, me.

Mountain

Cindy, you should really get your daughter that weight loss pill, my great aunt Darla says to my mom. I glance over in their direction from my end of the table. We’re not that far apart and her voice travels.

My dad turns his attention to her before my mom can speak.

And why is that, Darla? he asks this with a stern voice. One thing I love about my dad is he is blunt and to the point in every conversation he has. He’s respected and honorable, even in situations like this.

Darla turns her focus to me before pointing.

She’s such a pretty girl. It’s a shame that she’s fat.

Completely flabbergasted by her response, my dad asks, And what’s wrong with being fat?

Men don’t want fat, she pops off without a second to spare.

Clearly they do, considering you’re married, my mom says, tag-teaming with my dad. Plus, nothing is wrong with Mya being who she is. So what? She’s bigger than most girls her age, but she’s happy and healthy, and despite what you think, she’s super athletic. If you want to discuss her weight, I’d best advise you to consider your own in better judgement before speaking of hers.

Darla looks dumbfounded by my mom’s defenses. She looks back to me with disgust in her face. Rolling my eyes, I get up. I pull my jeans up by their belt loops from sitting for so long and walk out the front door of the community center.

Every year.

We go through the same cycle every year.

Mya, I hear my dad call after me. I turn and say, I’m going on a walk, before he can object.

Closing the door behind me, the summer heat blasts in my face. Whitney sits outside with her boyfriend watching TikTok videos.

Where are you going? she asks, entangled in his hold.

Away, I sigh, rolling my eyes at the entirety of today. I hate family gatherings. To each their own, but I swear I’m always the center of attention because I’m not perfect.

I can come with you, she responds, but I throw my hand up in an answer.

I’m good.

As my feet hit the dirt path, I begin walking until I can’t see the building anymore. My feet kick the ground with a hard force once I’m out of reach. I hate these stupid functions. I hate that we come to them. It never fails that I always leave feeling like I am less than human because I’m not an ideal size and I don’t have a guy on my arm. I am seventeen years old. What is wrong with focusing on school, maintaining a social status, and preparing for my future? Finding a boyfriend has no impact on who I become. I have my own life to live in a body God made for me. He didn’t make it for anyone else. He made it solely for me and I have to live with it. I have to face the harsh realities of my metabolism and my health conditions.

People who put down other people without knowing anything about them or what they go through are people I never want to speak to in my life again, regardless of if they are biologically related to me or not.

My blood boils and I can feel tears at the brink of falling. Why do I let them degrade me like this? Is it ever going to get easier? Even if I could fix every flaw, I know deep in my heart I’ll never be enough for them, and that’s the hardest pill to swallow.

I wipe at my eyes as I hear tires approaching from behind me. I move over to the ditch and wait for them to pass. Being this is a county road, only locals travel it, and I would rather not look like a raccoon to the passerby, considering they probably know me.

My heartbeat thuds in my chest as the tires slow and stop directly in front of me. I recognize the red 4x4 Ford anywhere. A dark tinted window rolls down and I look up to him. Honey swirls send a chill down my spine. Suddenly, the tears are surface level and awaiting the dam to break.

Mya? he questions, looking around to see why I’m alone in the middle of nowhere.

When his eyes come back to me, I give him a slight smile.

Do you need a ride? his deep voice asks. I shake my head instantaneously. You sure?

I nod and glance back in the direction of my family. This is not happening right now.

Are you okay? he pushes, pulling my attention back to him. The intensity of his stare makes me question all of my life choices. What once was will never be again. I don’t even know this stranger who was once my best friend.

Yes, I speak, answering his question. I’m fine. Thanks for the offer, but my cousin will be here momentarily. I’m just waiting on her.

He looks around again, probably reading right through my lie.

No problem. If anything changes, you still have my number, right?

I nod, hesitantly debating if I should lie again or not. Lying seems to be something I’ve gotten good at when it comes to him.

Alright, he breathes. I’ll see you around.

I nod in agreeance, waving.

Bye.

He thinks for a moment, and if I was still in his life, I could probably read the confusion laced on his face. Then he clears his head, and slowly rocks crunch as he begins to drive away. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Looking in his direction, I watch his taillights fade to grey.

If only things were different. If only I believed I was a whole human. If only I was more than a shallow girl fighting so hard to fit into a hollow world, maybe, just maybe there would be a time for us. In a perfect world, having him back in my life would be the only thing that would matter.

Chapter One, Mya

The way he catches my eye, it's magnificent. If I even glance in his direction, I meet his gaze. It’s always there—he’s always there.

His honey eyes hold so much passion, making me want to get lost in them, to unravel all of the stories behind every speck of gold that shimmers in the iridescent light. There’s a deep history. There always has been.

He’s a man of few words these days and I can’t blame him. The moment he looks away from me, his eyes always come back cold. Sometimes angered. He doesn't give this look to anyone else, but it’s a safe bet to say he also talks to everyone else as if they’re relevant. He doesn't really talk to me. Not anymore. Well, to be fair, I don't really make efforts to talk to him either.

We occasionally exchange the Hey, can I borrow a pencil, and Did you do the homework? Everything is always short and without much thought. We used to be friends. There was a time when our friendship crossed the line of more. A time that I would give up everything just to have it back and redo. With us these days, there is an unspoken word of alliance. An alliance formed from poor reasons. An alliance that slightly reunited the once-was dynamic duo.

Last semester I lost my best friend, Lauren. She didn’t die. Sometimes I wish she would have, but that’s beside the point.

Lauren hit me deep in a place she knew would hurt the most when she didn’t get her way with our shared friend Kameron, better known as Matty Edward’s best friend. She blamed me for a rivalry that didn’t even exist by standing up in front of the entire school as Kameron asked me to homecoming like he does every year, despite that Matty and I haven’t spoken since eighth grade, and shouted why would you date a cow? Mya’s own family thinks she’s disgusting. Is this because you feel sorry for her? God knows I do.

Shortly after, rumors spread that I spread my legs to all the willing football players every Friday night in the locker-room after their games. In return, I’m liked for my personality considering I’m so hideous that no one would ever like my face or tolerate me at my unflattering weight. Humane, right?

It was not hard to guess who started the rumors. Matty went against all of them and revived my reputation with a single presence of just being himself. After that, people have left me alone. I’m not part of the in-crowd, but I have my own in-crowd.

Matty hates Lauren almost as much as I do now. Like I said, he and I were once inseparable. We were two peas in a pod. We were the true definition of best friends. Even after we stopped speaking, I knew he’d have my back the moment he got wind of what went down with Lauren. I wasn’t wrong. The day he found out, the entire school thought they were going to see him hit a girl out of pure anger. He pushed her against the wall of lockers and told her if she even spoke my name again, he would ruin her. I guess she took it too literal considering all she does now is try to spread her own legs. It’s cringe-worthy to watch. Seeing the disgust on his face is almost as sweet as watching her try to hide the embarrassment of rejection. She’s forgotten her crush on Kameron and lives to find a way into Matty’s heart.

Since that disturbance, Matty’s had my back, literally. There actually has never been a time where he didn’t. However, nowadays anywhere I turn, he’s never too far behind. I’m not going to lie and say I don’t enjoy it. Matty is the most respected boy at our school. He’s the jack of all trades; intelligent, athletic, charming, incredibly attractive. The guy every girl wishes would notice her.

He makes my day on most days. He’s not just another guy in this world. He’s