The new girl was plump, gloriously plump, in a way that made Angie, who had always craved thinness, want to be just as full and shapely. The new girl had apple-round cheeks that tapered to a dainty chin. Her nails were painted gold and sat like gems embedded in her fleshy fingers. She had the sort of fingers that you liked to watch kneading dough, or braiding hair, or handling jewellery.
She neither flaunted nor hid her body. Her jeans followed the expanses of her buttocks and hips and fell cleanly to her ankles. Her fitted black top hugged the swells of her breasts and tummy. She wore the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, revealing chubby, smooth forearms and a bracelet from which dangled the letter J.
Angie watched as the new girl lifted her chin and laughed. The small of her lower back made a letter C, rising into the softness of shoulders, the softness of chestnut curls. Angie felt the corners of her own mouth tugging into a smile.