Blaze (10 page)

“I’ll have to rent this for Josh,” I say.

Mark hits eject, puts the disk in the case, and hands it to me. “I think you can be trusted,” he says.

“With your favorite movie?” I feign adoration. “I’ll guard it with my life.”

We kiss on the couch a moment longer until Pelé interrupts us—leaping onto the arm of the sofa, right by our heads. After a quick scream of surprise, I say, “And now what is your cat communicating?”

“Jealousy,” says Mark, and we laugh as he scratches Pelé under his chin. Finally, I break the bad news, “I’d better head home.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Mark groans like an old man as he stands up, then leans on me so heavily we laugh as we nearly topple over. Once he’s mobile, Mark steers me into the kitchen and stops, pretending to prop me against the counter before opening the fridge. He pulls out a plastic pitcher and empties it into a tinted glass. After gulping less than half of it, he dumps the rest down the drain and gives the cup a spin before dropping it noisily into the sink.

I wonder if the flurry of little face-kisses he gives me at the door will become our special after-date good-bye custom. On my way back to Superturd I rub my face and marvel over how well the night went.
One
thing’s for sure
, I think as I climb into the driver’s seat,
I’ve set my sights on a really super guy.

“What a giant ass,” says Terri. She and Amanda have dragged me to the mall practically against my will, and I’m resisting the urge to check my cell phone yet again for a text from Mark.

“Oh, I don’t know that he’s a
giant
ass,” I defend. “Maybe he just hasn’t had a chance to text me yet.” I look down at my cell phone to confirm that, no, he hasn’t had a chance to text me yet.

“God, Blaze, not everything is about Mark,” says Amanda. Ever since getting rejected by both Stu and Tony in one night, she’s quick to lash out.

“I just want to know where we stand,” I whine.

Terri shakes her head and points to the “giant ass” she’s actually referring to. It’s a two-story high, black-and-white poster in the window of Lucy’s Lucky Lingerie. The photo shows a model wearing lingerie that is so sexy-looking Dylan would probably set up a mini altar to worship in front of it. I feel a sharp pang of guilt for leaving Josh home alone on a Saturday night, but Mom will be home from work soon and promised to take him out to eat. I’ve sworn to never prank her in the middle of the night again but still didn’t get invited to dinner.

“Take my picture!” Amanda twists, mimicking the model’s pose as she gives a sultry glare over her shoulder. She is an expert at modeling, thanks to a boxed DVD set of nine seasons of the reality show
Model
Makers
.

Terri and I laugh, and I snap Amanda’s picture with my cell phone.

“Too bad you don’t have access to that chick’s airbrusher,” says Terri. “See how smooth her elbow is? She couldn’t even bend it in real life, it would crack right open.”

“Who the hell is looking at her elbows?” Amanda gestures like a game show hostess to the model’s bulbous breasts.

“Good point.” Terri’s mom is always harping about how the skinny models with fake boobs are wrecking all our self-esteem, but Terri and her sisters sneak fashion magazines into the house anyway. Still, her mom must have her half-brainwashed or something, because Terri is always pointing out when models are too skinny or when airbrushers go overboard.

The Lucy’s Lucky Lingerie model’s airbrusher has definitely gone overboard—but then, a girl can use a little help when her ass is blown up to the size of small planet.

I say, “I should get back—”

“Get back to what?” Terri cuts me off. “Sitting at home, obsessively checking your emails?”

“Why don’t you just text him?” Amanda asks.

“No way. I can’t seem desperate.” I quickly check my phone, since a whole minute has passed since I last looked at it. Terri gives me an accusing glare, and I defend, “I didn’t say I can’t
be
desperate. Just that I can’t
seem
desperate.”

“Oh, you’re desperate all right,” she says. “You need to chill out.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” says Amanda. “It’s perfectly acceptable for a girl to make a move when she likes a guy.”

I totally blame Virgin Girl for Mark’s silent treatment. I just need to reassure him my powers of chastity are not completely impenetrable. He probably doesn’t even realize how much I truly like him. My chest clenches and I feel the sensation that I’m being watched.

Looking around, I catch Comic Book Guy staring at me as he strides through the mall. He doesn’t avert his eyes when he sees I’ve caught him looking. In fact, he twists his body as he passes so he can continue gawking at me.

Creeper
, I think, mortified that he caught me checking out a lingerie window. I glance again, and his eyes narrow as if he’s trying to place me. I want to tell him he doesn’t have to worry—I’m not planning to come breathe all over his comics today.

Amanda doesn’t seem to notice our stalker as she grabs my arm. “Come on!” I get a final glimpse of Comic Book Guy still staring as she drags me through the wide entrance to Lucy’s Lucky Lingerie. We’re hit with a wall of powdery-smelling fragrance. Brightly colored bras line the pink walls, and racks of lace teddies crowd around us. Amanda grabs a satin hanger dripping with scraps of pale pink lace and flings it into my chest.

I hold up a twisted strap. “There is no way I am putting this on my body,” I say. “It won’t even cover my bits.”

“That’s the idea,” says Amanda. “It’s supposed to show off your bits.”

“Well, I’m game,” says Terri. “My bits are bitty enough.” She selects a black satin teddy and heads toward the back, where the words “Get Lucky” are painted in gold on the wall with an arrow pointing to the try-on rooms.

“Ooooh, this is stunning,” Amanda holds up a tangle of white satin that will probably look incredible on her. “Come on,” she commands as she heads after Terri. With a glance at my phone, I drag myself and my pale pink bands of lace to join them in the plush try-on rooms.
Maybe
I
will
“Get Lucky,”
I think as I pass under the sign,
and
get
a
text
from
Mark.

As I undress, I think about everything I did wrong in Mark’s basement to make him not like me. On top of my Virgin Girl display, I know I didn’t seem interested enough in his soccer movie.
Why
couldn’t we have watched some superhero movie, like
Iron Man
or
Spider-Man
?
I think. I could’ve pointed out the little insider nods the filmmakers put in for comic enthusiasts. Not that displaying my inner-geek will win me Mark’s love. Once I have on the pale pink number I check my phone one more time as I head out of the changing room. No messages.

Terri looks adorable, but her teddy covers her bits a little too well. She pulls the saggy material at her chest into two points. “Whadda ya think girls? Is it the new me?”

Amanda laughs. “Catherine Wiggan is the only chick big enough to fill out that teddy.”

“And the only girl slutty enough to wear it,” adds Terri.

“Did you hear about her latest conquest?” Amanda asks in a scandalous tone.

“According to the status updates of everybody on FriendsPlace that’s conquest
sss
, plural,” Terri says. I tune them out as I adjust the straps to my “lucky” lingerie.

Amanda strikes a seductive pose in her white satin sexy wear. She looks like she belongs in one of the ads. That is, if they airbrush away any softness from her belly and thighs. She looks fantastic, but her chest is the only part of her that matches the models. Amanda rolls her shoulders forward so that her upper arms smoosh her boobs into massive cleavage. “How do I look?” she asks.

“Better than I do,” I laugh. Amanda must’ve handed me an extra small, because my bands of lace are way too teeny. And just as I suspected, they don’t quite cover my bits. The lace of the bra pulls tightly over my breasts, and leaves nothing to the imagination. The back of the undies run up my butt and look ridiculous with my saggy briefs poking out from underneath. But even if it hadn’t been too small, the outfit still would’ve been X-rated.

I imagine how Mark would react to this look as I automatically duck my head into my changing stall and pick up my phone. I frown as I register the still-empty text icon. This is awful. I am literally aching for some form of contact from him.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Amanda says. Before I can stop her, she grabs my phone and takes a step back, aiming the camera in my direction.

“Don’t you dare.” I give her my most evil grimace, holding my hands over my chest as Terri laughs hysterically behind me.

“Aw, come on, you look cute,” Amanda coaxes, but I’m not budging. I hold one arm over my pink lacy bits as I grope for my phone with my free hand.

“Come on, guys, let’s make our own ad.” Terri laughs.

“Not unless they airbrush out my nipples,” I say, pushing out my chest to show Terri just how see-through my bra is.

Amanda twists her butt in our direction. “I’ll take a little cellulite smoothing,” she says. “Not to mention a tummy tuck.”

“I could obviously use a boob job.” Terri pulls up her shoulder-straps. “But my mom would kill me for even thinking such a thing, let alone saying it out loud. ‘Boob jobs are for masochistic bubble heads,’” she recites robotically.

“I’d just love underwear that doesn’t ride halfway up my butt.” I aim my lace wedgie in her direction. “Plus, I really need my cell phone back, Amanda.”

“Yes, Amanda,” says Terri. “Blaze has not checked her phone for a text from Mark for a whole entire minute.” She opens her eyes wide in mock-panic.

Amanda laughs and glances at my phone’s screen. She flings her mouth open in shock. “Oh, my God! You got a text!” she practically shouts and dangles the phone just out of my reach as I lunge for it. “And it’s from Mark!”

My heart races as I feel excitement rush to my face. “What did he say?”

Amanda’s look suddenly turns hard as she twists my phone in her hand and I hear a solid
cla-chick
. It takes me a moment to realize she’s just taken my picture. “What the… ?”
Maybe
he
wrote
something
bad
. I feel beyond confused and just want to know what the hell Mark finally wrote to me. I start to panic as Amanda punches madly at my phone’s text keys.

“Amanda!” I practically shout. “What are you doing? What did Mark say?”

With a blue-white grin she tosses my phone to me. “He didn’t say anything yet. But I guarantee he will now.”

I catch my phone in one hand. “He didn’t…” I look at the empty icon and realize Mark hasn’t written to me at all. My heart deflates. Then it starts flinging itself around inside my ribcage as I realize what Amanda has just done.
No, No, No!

“Oh my God, you didn’t!” I turn to Terri for help. “She just sent Mark a picture of me.” I wave a hand up and down my body and shout, “Half! Naked!”

“Amanda!” Terri springs to my side. “What the hell were you thinking?” She tries to take the phone from me, but I hold it in a double-handed death grip as I scroll to find the photo.

“What? It’s no big deal,” says Amanda. “I did it with a boyfriend once, and he
loved
it.”

“Mark isn’t her boyfriend,” says Terri. “And now he’s going to think she’s a slut!”

“She’s not even topless,” Amanda says.

“She may as well be!” Terri gestures to my lacy boobs for emphasis, and I nod in agreement, keeping my eyes glued to my phone as I search for the photo. “He’ll think it’s an invite to hook up!” she says.

“Well, maybe that’s not a bad thing for him to think!” says Amanda. “You can see how hot she is for the guy.”

“Blaze, were you planning on hooking up with Mark?” Terri asks me.

I glance up from my phone. “I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “I just really want to be his girlfriend.”

The two of them continue arguing over the nightmare I’ve just entered, but they fade to background as the ringing in my ears grows louder and louder. I’ve finally found the photo. And it’s worse than I imagined.

I feel like I’m drowning in my own heartbeat.

I stare at the image that is, at this very moment, winging its way though cell towers and satellites toward Mark’s cell phone. Feeling desperately out of control, I telekinetically command his phone to self-destruct wherever it is. I imagine myself having the power to zoom after it and delete it before it reaches him. Never before have I wanted to fly so desperately.

I
cannot
believe
Amanda
sent
Mark
this
picture.

In the photo, my expression shows open excitement, and the way my left arm reaches forward out of frame makes it seem like I may have actually taken the picture myself. It only shows from the waist up, so my bulging granny panties aren’t in the shot, but that doesn’t make up for the very worst part. My breasts are front and center and completely exposed through the sheer lace bra. Everything, including the small brown beauty mark beside my right nipple, is clearly visible and in perfect focus. My face is the teensiest bit blurry, but I’m still completely recognizable, so the fuzziness just adds to the overall pornographic effect. I can’t believe it’s me in the picture. I haven’t been photographed naked since I turned four and stopped taking baths with my little brother. Back then I obviously didn’t look this slutty.

“You look so hot!” Amanda admires her photography skills. “Really, he’s gonna love it.”

As my consciousness kicks back to the world around me, I realize Terri is rubbing my back. “It’ll be okay,” she soothes. “He might not even notice your nipples are showing.”

Except that I know there’s no way he won’t notice my nipples are showing. Boys notice nipples. It is an indisputable law of the universe. Much too late, I cup my hands protectively over my breasts. I want nothing to do with that photo, and now that Mark has it I feel an odd sensation of just wanting him to disappear too. I certainly want nothing at all to do with the scraps of lace still biting into my sides. “I need to get dressed,” I report dully and turn back to my stall.

Terri launches into Amanda. “I can’t believe you did that to her!” she shoots, then calls sweetly through the curtain to me, “Hey, Blaze, you want a cinnamon pretzel or something? My treat.”