"Pheromone Pharmacopia"

by Brandy Dewinter

(c 2001, All rights reserved)

 

Chapter 15 - "Missed Opportunity"

What I had in mind was a quick trip to a couple of shoe stores, and a Gap or something for a pair of shorts and maybe a more casual skirt. Oh, and a couple of tops. What *they* had in mind was a complete makeover. Our eventual compromise would be to visit every single store in the mall.

Some of them twice, I think.

We started at one of the teen money pits that were so interchangeable I don’t know why they bothered to put a name above the entrance. The twins headed to the larger sizes while Natalie fixed me with an appraising look.

She grimaced and said, "I think I hate you."

Ashley laughed, and Natalie was grinning immediately, so it might be considered understandable that I was confused.

"I haven’t been able to wear - what are you, about a size six? - for a year," she explained.

"Um, well, maybe a six for the skirts, but . . . "

"Oh, quit bragging," Natalie interrupted, giggling again. She turned to the racks and started pawing through skirts so short even Carol would have blushed.

"I’ll find you some shorts," Ashley promised, heading toward a table piled with denim in all colors.

I didn’t even have time to make suggestions before Natalie was pulling me along with her eyes toward the dressing rooms. Her arms were full and I noticed she hadn’t picked out only my size. The twins were already occupying one of the oversized rooms and Ashley caught up just as Natalie nudged me into another.

The little swinging door to the changing room hadn’t stopped moving when Natalie’s own skirt hit the floor. She pulled a purple fake-leather micromini from the stack and held it to her hips.

"God, I want a skirt like this," she sighed.

"So . . ?"

"Oh, my parents wouldn’t let me wear it anyway," she said. "At least, not to school, and that means I couldn’t wear it often enough to justify the cost."

"Since when do you have to justify the cost of clothes?" Ashley asked.

"Since I was, like, stupid enough to negotiate a clothing allowance," Natalie answered, twisting her face into an amazingly complicated expression. It had a frown, but also a rueful smile that at the same time showed real humor. "Before that, I could talk them into buying things for me. Now . . . "

"Now that skirt means three others you *don’t* get, right?" Ashley finished for her.

"Well, maybe two and a pair of shoes," Natalie snickered.

Then they both gasped, and I looked around to see what the problem was.

"Ohmigod, you’re wearing stockings!"

I had dropped my own skirt, and the truth of their claim was undeniable.

"Um, is that a problem?"

"No, it’s just, like, so cool," Ashley explained. "I never wear stockings to school, just for . . . special occasions."

"Well, part of it is that they *are* cool," I said. "I don’t like pantyhose. But, like I said, I’m here to get some more casual clothes."

"I know, but, damn girl, they look totally awesome on you."

"You think so? I think my legs are too . . . scrawny. I look like a chicken."

"Oh, please," Natalie said. "I wish I had legs as trim as yours."

The skirt I had picked out to try on was a black denim that I knew was going to be way too short, but I had the feeling we wouldn’t be buying everything we had brought to the dressing room anyway.

"Oh, yeah," Natalie said, contradicting my own impression. "That you HAVE to get."

"But not with stockings," Ashley laughed, pointing at the obvious problem. Before I could say anything, she grabbed a top out of what she had gathered. "Here, try this. It’ll pick out the red in your hair, and make your eyes look terrific."

My attempt to try on the dark-red knit shell was interrupted by a much more strident chorus.

"OHMIGOD! Ohmigod!"

"What’s the matter?" Mary/Kari asked, poking their head through the door. "OhmiGod!"

"She’s wearing a corset!" Natalie provided the unnecessary answer.

Well, I didn’t really need the red shell anyway since their, ahem, interest got me to blushing so brightly it would have clashed big time.

"Ohmigod, that is like, SOOO hot!"

"Awesome, just . . . wow!"

"Damn, girl," Kari said, "I had you down for either a stuck-up snob or like, scared of your own shadow the way you were sitting so prim and proper all day. I didn’t know you had a reason like that!"

"How can you stand it?" Ashley asked, reaching out a tentative finger to see how stiff my armor was.

"You get used to it," I claimed. "It’s sort of comforting, really, sort of like an all-day hug."

"Ooh, that sounds so yummy, but . . isn’t it, like, uncomfortable?" Mary asked, running her hands down her own waist as she obviously tried one on her in mind.

"Only if it’s too tight, and that’s mostly just stupid. There’s no reason for it. Oh, you do have to get one that fits right, though."

"Oh, God, that is just so cool," sighed Natalie.

"Actually, when it’s warm weather, it’s mostly just hot," I contradicted, laughing. "But I’m sort of used to it by now."

Kari reached out and gently turned me around, not that I would have had much chance to resist. "How did you ever get started?"

Damn, another question I wasn’t ready for. Think quick.

"After my parents died . . ," I began.

"Your parents died?" Natalie interrupted.

"Yes," I said, then decided to plow on instead of answering that implied question. "I got sort of . . . messed up for a while. It’s a long story. But I, um, decided to change the way I looked, in lots of ways. This was just one of them."

Goodness, that was even the truth. Imagine that.

Ashley looked stricken, like the fact this topic came up again was her fault somehow. The twins looked uncomfortable too, and fiddled with the clothes they had been carrying when they came into our dressing room. I could see that Natalie was trying to think of something to say, but had run flat out of ideas.

"Look, guys, it’s okay. I’m dealing with it. I won’t say it’s no big deal, since it always will be a big deal in my life, but it’s no reason for everybody to get all tense. Let’s just do what we came for, which is see how Ashley looks in that killer purple skirt."

"Oh, no, I couldn’t . . ," Ashley began, then giggled as she realized I’d managed to yank her chain.

But that was a good enough excuse that the others picked up on it and in a heartbeat Natalie had it off and was handing it to Ashley. I had NEVER been able to get a girl out of her skirt that fast, back when I, ah, when I wanted to try something on.

That purple looked surprisingly good with her red hair. Who’da guessed? Not that we could talk her into buying it. They could have talked me into buying a LOT of things, if it weren’t that I kept telling myself I only had three or four more days as a teen that I needed clothes for. I ended up getting the black denim skirt anyway, and the red shell and two other tops, plus a pair of flats, and some sandals.

After we left the shoe store (the last one, anyway), there must have been a signal I didn’t see because cell phones started coming out of purses all around me. Or maybe I did see the signal, which was the mall’s food court. The other girls were negotiating with unseen parents for permission to eat out. Apparently they all received the go ahead, because with hardly a pause we were dispersing among the many opportunities.

The rendezvous at a central table took little longer. I had found a nice selection of vegetables and some grilled chicken at a Chinese place, and Ashley thought that had looked good, too. The twins were more conventional, with burgers and fries that I figured their metabolism could handle. Natalie was the unpredictable one, coming back with only some frozen yogurt.

"Goodness, that looks . . . healthy," I said, smiling.

"Oh, I’ll get something real when we get home," she said. "My mom’s, ah, frugal and she insists we don’t waste the food she prepares, even if we’re late."

"Oh, we can go," I said. "I’ve got all I came for."

"Don’t be silly," Natalie countered. "It won’t make that much difference to sit here with you for a few minutes."

I had the feeling that all of them just didn’t want me to be alone for supper, which was sweet. I smiled to tell them all that I got the message, and appreciated it, and was trying to find some way to let them know it wasn’t really necessary when my thoughts were interrupted.

"Ohmigod, don’t look!" Kari hissed.

At what? That really helped. Was I supposed to close my eyes or something?

The others all looked, of course. Like prairie dogs on watch, a head would pop up, scan quickly, then retreat, to be followed a moment later by another head. I’m sure they would not have appreciated that simile.

After a couple of minutes I figured out what was so interesting. I should have known. It was a boy.

Their oh-so-casual surveillance was either not subtle enough, or the boy had his own reason for coming over. The whispered titters died out abruptly as he stepped to our table.

"Good evening, ladies," he said formally.

"Hi, Sean," Natalie, our leader as always, replied.

The boy was tall enough for the Cameron twins, at least 6’3" or so, and muscular without being bulky. I could see a strong family resemblance to Kit Carson, though this boy was a few years older. He was what Kit would look like after he grew up. Except, where Kit had blond hair, Sean’s was shiny black, and he had a mustache and a beard neatly trimmed into a surprisingly point that looked like something out of Renaissance Italy; "My Last Duchess", cruel and arrogant, but . . . interesting.

There was a question in his eyes that was directed at me, or at least about me, and Natalie supplied the required, "This is Jaymi Fox. She’s taking finals for placement. Jaymi, this is Sean Adams."

It surprised me. I mean, he looked so much like Kit Carson that I was sure they were brothers. I’m sure my confusion showed, because Sean laughed and said, "I’ll bet you’ve met my cousin, Kit."

"Close cousin," I observed.

"Not THAT close," he laughed again, then pulled out a chair to sit with us.

"Sean was quarterback the last two years," Kari explained breathlessly. "Now he’s at college."

I was a little surprised that I didn’t know him, then. His fame would have started right after I left. Maybe he was a transfer student, too. It was clear that at least the Cameron twins had a crush on him, though even Ashley’s eyes had gotten extra-wide when he sat down with us.

Reaching out casually to snag a french fry from Kari’s tray, Sean said, "If this is what next year’s crop of seniors is going to look like, I may come back to high school."

No belly laughs from the Amazons this time. They were clearly back in giggle mode, tittering appreciatively at Sean’s comment within an illusion of demure femininity.

Ha! Like I should talk about illusions.

I guess I had made more of a transition than I thought, because I found myself giggling right along with them. It was very . . . flattering to have his deep black eyes focus on you like you were the only interesting person in the world. It didn’t even matter that he would then look at one of the others the same way. At least, I thought it was the same way.

Sean chatted with us for a few minutes, managing to seem sympathetic to our problems with high school finals while at the same time making his college finals seem infinitely more challenging.

"At least mine are over," he concluded with a sigh of relief.

"Are you coming to the party Friday, since you’re back in town?"

Natalie asked.

"Are you asking me?" he countered.

Natalie blushed, too flustered to speak for a minute, which set the rest of us into another giggleburst and prompted a gently-mocking grin from Sean.

"I’m, um, Kit and I, we’re like, going steady," Natalie stammered.

"I know that," Sean said, reaching out to gently punch her in the shoulder. "What did you think I was asking?"

Natalie didn’t fall for that opening, though she did blush again. Sean decided to let her off the hook with another disarming grin, then stood.

"I might," he said. "If I can find a date."

He looked at us when he said that, as though considering us as candidates for an invitation. His smile said he didn’t think he’d have trouble getting a date. "Ladies," he said, bowing courteously, then he sauntered off.

"Ohmigod," Kari whispered, looking at me.

"I hate you," Mary said absently, looking right at me too, but with no real rancor in her voice or expression.

"Why? What did I do?" I asked.

"What did YOU do?" Natalie asked, laughing. "Just snagged, like, the number one prime hottie in the history of Jackson High, and right in front of his two greatest admirers."

"I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Surprisingly, Ashley spoke up, "Yeah, right. If you’d have fallen any further into his eyes, we’d have had to send search parties after you."

"But . . I mean . . .we just talked. Just like he talked to the rest of you."

"I wish," Kari said wistfully.

"Well, it’s a good thing we’re at the mall," Natalie observed. "We can find you a party dress right away."

"Party dress?" I repeated. Stupidly.

"Snap out of it, girl," Kari said, recovering herself. "I’ll bet you anything you want to name that by this time tomorrow, Sean has invited you to the party."

"Oh," I whispered, finally catching on. Or maybe not, because something didn’t make sense. "But, why didn’t he ask me right now?"

"Because you might be going with someone else, of course," Natalie said. "Just like I’m going with Kit. He’s going to check around first. He could joke about asking me, because he knows about Kit and me, but he wouldn’t take the chance you’d turn him down. Not in front of others. Duh!"

"You can bet he’ll find another opportunity, though," Mary said, sighing. Then her eyes lit up with another thought. "Unless . . . are you . . . I mean, is there anyone else? Are you going steady already?"

The idea was so silly that I just snorted an obvious negative before I had a chance to grab at the idea. It could have saved a lot of trouble.

I should have remembered about the party, or really, *The Party*. It was the big event of the year, an outlaw prom held just after finals. I suppose part of the reason I hadn’t thought about it was that I had never been invited - and it was strictly invitation only. Supposedly there were no rules. Well, almost none. There wouldn’t be any chaperones or curfews. It got started as a rebellion against what the students - before my time, actually - had decided were overly restrictive rules for the school-approved prom. The first time they held it, they got raided. When the mayor’s daughter and the sons of three councilmen and the chief of police were among those picked up . . . well, they hadn’t been raided since. After that, there was a very sub-rosa agreement that the students would be left alone as long as nobody tried to drive home drunk and the hotel wasn’t trashed. Other than that, anything might happen - and often did.

At some level I must have been thinking about The Party, even though I was surprised when it actually came up. It was the ultimate insider versus outsider gauge, the one thing that would prove that I was now an insider. Had that been the reason I decided to go back to my high school on my furlough at the end of the school year? The hope that *this* time I’d make it to The Party? Maybe. I knew that as soon as they started talking about it, I wanted to go. At least I remembered to ask about the whole thing, since I wasn’t supposed to have already known about it.

I guess I already had in invitation in fact, because Natalie was acting as though it were a given that I would be there. Of course, she was sure that Sean would ask me, too, but I didn’t get the impression that they’d turn me away at the door if I showed up without him. They would have, a few years before. Turned me away if I showed up alone, I mean.

The distraction of thinking about that didn’t help me in my Literature final the next morning, but Mrs. Jacobs hadn’t changed her final in forty years - or so everyone figured. It was a nicely subjective ‘pick a story and analyze it’ essay that was only a problem in that I had to make sure I didn’t write exactly the same things I had said before just in case old Shaky Jake remembered.

The Giggle Gaggle had rendezvoused in the lunchroom at the usual table and I moved to join them like I had been part of the group forever. As I approached, several girls tried to make room for me to sit by them.

"Thanks," I said softly, not wanting to interrupt an already-disrupted conversation.

"Sean Adams," sighed a girl I didn’t know. I’d been told her name, but I couldn’t remember it then to save my life.

That seemed to be the topic of conversation, because the responding sighs increased the air pressure in our area by at least 10%. Everyone was looking at me, expecting me to pick up on that opening.

"What?" I asked.

"Tell us about him," the girl said. I was still struggling to remember her name, something with a ‘K’, I thought.

"Like I know," I sniffed. "I saw him for maybe 2 minutes, total. I don’t know what you guys are so excited about - and certainly I don’t know anything about him that you don’t."

By this time, Natalie and Ashley had joined us, squeezing in next to the Cameron twins who had apparently been sharing their version of what happened in the mall.

"You knew how to catch his interest," Natalie declared. "Two minutes and you had him hooked like a fish - and loving it."

She puckered up her lips like a fish, but her implied use of those lips was clearly not for breathing water.

"Yeah, right," I said. "You guys are dreaming."

"Dreamy is right," Kari Cameron said.

I tried a counter-attack. "It seemed to me that he was more interested in you, Kari, than in me. After all, he took a french fry from *your* tray."

That detonated another giggleburst, but no one was buying what I was offering. After the echoes died, Natalie explained why my idea was so ludicrous.

"Oh, Jaymi, you are like, so out of it," she began, but her smile took any sting from her words. "Mary and Kari are like, um, ‘sharing’ Nick Thomas . . "

She was interrupted by a snicker from the ‘K’ girl, "There’s certainly enough of him to go around."

That got her a slap from Mary, but Natalie plowed ahead. "Just like I’m going with Kit. And we all know that Ashley and Bobby Watson are the only remaining virgins at Jackson High, so they’re sort of stuck with each other."

At this, Ashley ducked her head, but there was that same look of quiet pride I had seen several times in her eyes.

"So," Natalie continued, "that just leaves you for Sean to be interested in - and he was *definitely* interested."

"Definitely!" the twins chorused. Giggleburst, Richter scale 6.

I was trying to figure out what to say, when the group’s target suddenly switched.

"Say, that reminds me," Mary Cameron said. "You gonna uphold the honor of the party, Ash?"

I didn’t know what she was talking about - not unusual - but it triggered a fiery blush that tried to fill in between Ashley’s freckles. She ducked her head again, and from within the obscuring red curls we heard a soft, "Maybe."

"You go, girl!" Kari crowed. The others laughed and joined in congratulating Ashley, or urging her on. After a bit, I figured out what they were talking about. Apparently, it was considered traditional that no one at The Party was a virgin - at least not by the end of the night.

I remembered that look of quiet pride Ashley had showed when they ‘accused’ her of being a virgin, and it bothered me to think that she would be pushed into something that she didn’t really want to do. Not that I thought that made the other girls particularly ‘bad’. But peer pressure is incredibly strong, and if they had made a moral judgment that sex was okay, then anyone who didn’t conform was . . . a problem. That’s hardly unique to this group of girls, or this topic. Still, I wished it weren’t so, and I realized I was frowning just before I got called on it.

"Uh, oh," Kari said, noticing my expression. "We don’t have *another* virgin, here, do we?"

"Huh? Oh, no," I blurted out.

"Then don’t rain on Ashley’s parade," Mary said.

It seemed to me that the problem with the parade Ashley *wanted* to be in was not with me, but I bit off that remark and tried to find a way to . . fit in while offering something to Ashley.

I spoke directly to her. "Ashley, you ought to do whatever you want, regardless of what we might say, or might have done, but . . ." I sighed, not at all artificial, because I was remembering things that were still hard to deal with. "It’s just . . like a lot of things, I guess, now that . . I just won’t ever be . . . pure again. That’s corny and old-fashioned, I know, but I’ve dreamed about my wedding night, and now it won’t be . . . I can’t ever be again, what I . . wanted to be, wanted to . . offer to my . . ."

"Oh, God," Kari laughed. "You’re a romantic. We definitely have to get you some better reading material."

Mary picked up her end of the tag team, "Hell, girl, you just got dumped after you ‘gave’ yourself to the wrong boy. Don’t blame us for your mistake - and Ashley and Bobby are so like, welded together there’s no risk of them splitting up."

"I didn’t ‘give’ myself to anyone," I snapped.

"Date rape?" Kari said with a sneer. "That’s kind of overused, isn’t it? I mean, that just means you *really* picked the wrong boy."

Easy for the Amazon twins to say. They had never had to worry about a physical confrontation, and woe to anyone who attacked one anyway - if not right at the moment of the act, they’d get together and hand him his balls later. But they were wrong anyway, and it made me mad.

"I was raped in a parking lot by a gang of muggers," I snarled. "I shouldn’t have been there alone at night, so I guess it really was my fault, right?"

Even saying it brought the memories of that night crashing back with fresh reality. The words were still hanging in the absolute silence that followed my announcement when I lost it. The adrenaline that had fueled my anger drained away and I was left with only the memories of being weak, and alone, and . . . hurt. I couldn’t help myself and just buried my face in my hands and started shaking with huge, gasping sobs.

 

(continued in next part)

 

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SMITE 2 - Pheromone Pharmacopia © 2001 by Brandy Dewinter. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.