Shine - Lauren Myracle [73]
She clucked impatiently. “Now, Cat, put down your arms so I can see how much letting out I gotta do,” she said. “Come on over here so I can do a measure.”
I took an uncertain step forward, just as Tommy said, “Or you could come over here. I’d be more than happy to measure those bubbies.”
And just as clear as a bell, Aunt Tildy realized what she’d done. She’d asked me to stick my breasts out, and me with no bra on. I was a tomboy. I wore Christian’s hand-me-downs and ran around with Patrick, catching crawdads in the creek, so what’d I need a bra for?
Yet Aunt Tildy had stood me up in front of three hormone-addled boys slouched in lawn chairs by a burning shed. One of them was my brother, but the other two weren’t. There was liquor. There was the reek of gas and oil from Tommy’s motorcycle. And there was me in my too-small dress, my nipples poking tents in the fabric without my having any say over it.
I’d been to livestock auctions, the calves mewling as farmers pried open their mouths. Right then, I was that dumb calf.
“Cat, go inside,” Aunt Tildy said sharply.
As I scurried toward the house, I heard Tommy say something real low. And then Christian was on him—I heard a chair tip, and scuffling, and angry words from my brother—and then Tommy saying, “Get off me, man! Beef—a little help?”
“No way,” I heard Beef say. “That’s Christian’s sister you’re talking about. You’re outta line.”
“Jesus,” Tommy said. “I didn’t mean nothing by it, all right? Just that she’s hot.”
And then Beef and Christian both went after him, and Aunt Tildy was shooing me in the house and closing the door.
“Ain’t nothing good ever come from trash talk,” she said. “You go get changed. Put the dress on my bed—I’ll take care of it before your ceremony. Right now, I got other work to do.” She disappeared into the kitchen, muttering under her breath.
So I changed back into my cutoffs. I’m hot, I thought wonderingly. Tommy thinks . . . he thinks I’m hot. I reached for the oversize T-shirt I had been wearing, but at the last second I dug around in my bureau and pulled out a baby blue camisole instead. I’d never worn it before, thinking it too girly, but Aunt Tildy had brought it home from the Sharing House one day. She presented it to me proudly and told me it was a real find, and not one stain on it.
I didn’t put on a bra, because I didn’t own a bra. But I brushed my hair. I pinched my cheeks the way I’d seen Bailee-Ann do, and I leaned in close to the mirror and gazed at myself. My black hair framed my sun-kissed face. My eyes shone. Was I pretty? Was I hot?
Back in the living room, I plopped down on the sofa and pretended to read Black Beauty, the part where Black Beauty was a colt frolicking in the meadow. But really, I was watching the boys. I saw the three of them stand up from their chairs, and my heart beat faster. Were they coming inside?
No. A few minutes later, I heard the sound of bullets hitting tin cans. They’d left the shed still burning and gone around back to do some shooting. I felt disappointed.
I despised myself for that now.
Aunt Tildy had the radio on in the kitchen, set to the country station she liked. I could hear her singing along. I went back to my book, and after a while I fell into it for real. I propped my feet on the beat-up coffee table made from a plank and two cinder blocks, and I went off with Black Beauty, who was fighting against the bit his master stuck in his mouth. I didn’t hear Tommy come in. He must have eased the screen door shut, because all of a sudden, there he was, dropping onto the sofa beside me. He sat so close our thighs touched.
I thought Tommy was the handsomest boy I’d ever seen. Yes, he was cocky. Yes, he was sometimes a jerk, especially to Patrick. But he’d grin afterward, as would Patrick. I figured they were boys being boys.
So I was thrilled he’d come inside to sit with me. I was even more thrilled when he draped his arm over my shoulder and gave me a squeeze.
“Hey, Cat,