To tell the truth, I'm not really sure that beauty is beyond skin deep. I have yet to see that theory proven. If there are people that see the beauty within others, they sure as heck don't live around here. 
 This was a beautiful, sweet, heartbreaking book. I feel like the blurb is a horrible one, the premise of a fat Puerto-Rican-Polish girl. The description makes the main character feel like a caricature, and this book is much more than that. It's not the type of book I usually favor, but I'm so glad I gave this a shot. 
 The main character's name is Sugar. She is severely obese. She has been this way her entire life. She is used to constantly being belittled, berated, mocked. 
 Little girls are not made of sugar and spice and everything nice. Little boys are not made of snips and snails and puppy dog tails. Children can be little assholes when given the opportunity. Children are cruel, their honesty is not always the innocence of youth, but the deliberate intention to hurt. They are like packs of predators. They will zoom in on the weakest for an easy kill, and always, always, for her entire life, Sugar has been the prey among her peers, from early childhood to beyond. 
 Last year, I took the bus and endured having marshmallows thrown at my head as the kids in the back offered to feed me, shouting, "Come on, Sugar, we know you like sweets" and "Catch one in your mouth," like I was some kind of sideshow attraction. 
 Not surprisingly, she has no close friends. The only friendship she has a a highly doubtful, largely one-sided one. 
 I long for something sweet. Something to help me forget that the pink invitation on the cushion beside me isn't a genuine request for friendship. To dull the reality that I'm merely collateral in Brittany's life so she can make use of the texting feature on her phone, and that I'm a big, fat mess with chocolate frosting under my nails and a streak of orange cheese on my shirt. 
 Sugar's life is anything but sweet. It is truly, truly awful. Her mother is bedridden due to her own obesity, but that doesn't prevent her from physically and mentally abusing her only daughter. Forcing Sugar to eat until Sugar can't even recognize her own hunger signals anymore, then mocking her for being fat, despite her own size. 
 Dark thoughts crash through my mind. I see Mama, when she was still able to get around, feeding me fried chicken and mashed potatoes topped with half a stick of butter along with gravy and mayo. I downed it with a liter of soda. She insisted I eat, saying, "You've got to grow. I don't want no string bean for a daughter." Then she let me eat an entire tray of brownies. I ate until I felt like I was going to throw up. All the while, she watched, working through her own plate. I see myself over the years, mindlessly eating, filling my belly until it ached. 
 Her brother, Skunk, is even worse. His physical abuse of her and her endurance of it was painful to read. He pushes her. Shoves her. Mocks her. He, too, is fat, but kids don't make fun of him because of his size because he is a bully everywhere, at school and at home. 
 My sausage-filled family history is coupled with sexual innuendos, and they can't resist teasing me, the fat girl, the granddaughter of the sausage guy. Of course, my brothers don't do anything about it. Although they're both big like me, they don't endure the routine taunts, the shoves, or the humiliation. Half the time, they're the ones dishing it out. 
 It's a double standard that is only too painfully obvious to Sugar. 
 What's the result of all this abuse and stress. Sugar eats away her pain. She eats to forget. 
 I can't read the rest unless I press the button on the bottom of my phone. I ignore it, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment. I frost the cupcakes, taking a few careful, but generous, licks off the knife. My tongue still stings from the burn earlier. My mouth itches from the sweet pudding and frosting. 
 Guilt creeps in as I survey the kitchen. Empty plastic cups and a cellophane bag with a hand-sized wrinkle from where I clutched it litter the counter. The discarded wrappers and empty cylinder of frosting stand like ruins. Regret submerges me like sludge. 
 I press my palms to the side of my head, wanting out--out of this body, this town, away, away, away. But there's no escape. 
 I think we've all been here. I know I have. A stressful day of work turns into eating an entire tub of cookie dough---and then some. Then the guilt and self-hatred creeps in. Sugar is no different. She hates herself for her weakness, but as any stress-eater will tell you, it's impossible to stop. The eating---it's not the result of hunger at all, but the desire to fill something missing from within. 
 I wonder if I'm actually hungry now. 
 I'm not, not really. 
 The little tower of chocolate cookies begs me to eat it, so that I can feel the soft give in my mouth as I bite down. Then there's the bittersweet flavor of regret that when I eat them, they'll be gone, and I'll still be left wanting more. 
 Her life is joyless until she meets Ever, who sees her for who she really is, the girl, the spirit that nobody sees, that everyone dismisses based on her appearance. Humans are shallow creatures at heart. No matter how we strive to be fair, most of us DO judge based on appearance. Sugar suffers from this prejudice, and it is Even who first sees what nobody else does. 
 "I know it must be hard for you, Sugar," he says softly. "I hear kids talking, but you know what? You're better than that. You're--" 
 That shadow within me that reminds me how worthless I am reckons Even can't come up with anything nice to say. Then I catch his clear blue eyes and feel his warmth, alive, courageous, so close to me. Real. 
 "You're my friend, Sugar. You have the biggest heart and the best laugh. And your smile. It melts me," he says. 
 Even (named because his dad couldn't spell) is not without problems of his own. In a way, they're kindred spirits. 
 "Maybe you can make me something." 
 "Like what?" I ask, not sure if he's just indulging me. 
 Even stops, scratches his head, and then turns around and says, "An invisibility cloak, to start." 
 He and I aren't that different, appearances aside. We're both stuck, with nowhere to go and no way to get there. 
 This is a story about a girl emerging from darkness. 
 I want to to say "I know how she feels," because at times, I've felt uncomfortable in my own skin. I think at one time or another, I think we all have been displeased with our appearance. A stressful day, and two pints of ice cream later, the self-loathing will start to rear its ugly head as your mind tells you "you're fat, you're disgusting, I can't believe you ate all that." I think it's applicable no matter what weight you are, no matter what size you are, whether you're 50 or 500 pounds. 
 But the truth is, me saying "I know how she feels," would be condescending, because no, I do not know how she feels. I've never been mocked for my weight. I've never experienced the pain of being judged because of my weight. I've never endured the cruel words, the physical abuse, the bullying, the endless depression and pain of just being that the main character in this book has gone through. But there's the beauty of empathy. A good book makes you feel like "I know what you're going through," regardless of whether or not that experience has been shared. And this is a very, very good book. 
 If I have any complaints about this book, it would be that the book is, at times, too ideal. The love interest, Even, feels too good to be true. He's too perfect. Too accepting. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that it's unbelievable for Even to love Sugar because she's fat, I'm saying that HIS CHARACTER, the way he acts, what he says, is too ideal to feel entirely realistic. 
 Although this book seems utterly depressing, it wasn't. Sugar's life is bad, but it never seems like one of those things where the author is wringing pity out of us. This is Sugar's life. She accepts it. She strives on. She never whines, despite how bad things get. This was an uplifting, surprisingly good book.