FRANKIE AND CASSIE NAKED IN SCHOOL

PART ONE

MONDAY
CHAPTER ONE
FRANKIE
I suppose it was inevitable, huh? I mean, it looked like they were going through the baseball team one-by-one. First Mike and Lily, then Ed-and now me. March/April seemed to be Baseball Player’s Month in The Program. You’d think they’d let us ballplayers do this at a time when we didn’t have to go out on to the field naked. Ah, well. Not that that would have done me any good, anyway-I play soccer during the fall.
I’m Frankie Gutierrez. Francisco Roberto Gutierrez DeJesus, if you want to get all technical (and Spanish) about it. I’m of Mexican heritage-though I was born here; right in Westport, as a matter of fact-my parents came from Mexico when they were teenagers. My grandparents-both sets-were poor folk who came here hoping for a better life for their children. My parents didn’t let them down. Mom’s a schoolteacher, and Dad’s a computer programmer. We’re not rich-Dad says that if he wanted to be rich, he wouldn’t have had five kids-but we don’t want for anything, not by a long shot. All of my Grandparents are still alive, and all take great pride in my parent’s-and aunts’ and uncles’-accomplishments. Family’s a big thing to Mexicans.
And there’s enough family in my house! I turn 17 in a couple weeks, and there was a hiccup after me-Mom had two miscarriages-but then the floodgates opened. Rosa is 12, Maria is 10, Gabriella is 7, and Ricardo is 5. After Ricardo, Mom said "finito!" Being the oldest of five in a Mexican family is a bit of a responsibility. I’ve done a lot of babysitting. I’m also supposed to lead by example. I think I do OK. I’m a good student. As I said, I play baseball and soccer-a pretty mean feat considering you wouldn’t peg me as an athlete if you saw me walking down the hall. I really do love my brother and sisters. I have good friends and don’t get into trouble.
I wondered how Mom and Dad would react to me being in The Program. We’ve discussed it at home-not a big surprise considering so many of my friends have been through it. Mom and Dad are still a bit Old School. They grew up Catholic. Now, with the changes in society, the Catholic Church some time ago stopped prattling about the evils of premarital sex and birth control and all that. I guess they were sick of empty pews. But my parents grew up with that, and it’s sometimes hard for them to shake. They do try, though. When they got the info on The Program, and the form to fill out to opt me out of it, they told me it was my decision. I can talk to them about this kind of stuff, though Mom gets faintly scandalized. It’s become kind of a joke-especially between me and my oldest sister, Rosa. Rosa started developing a few years ago, and started getting interested in that kind of thing. She hasn’t done anything yet, of course, but she asks me questions, which I try to answer. We’ve always been close, despite the 5-year age difference. When she came along, I really wanted that elusive sibling, so I’ve doted on her her whole life. So, we talk, and she knows what sex is. And our big joke is that, whenever the topic comes up, Mom tries her best but always lets a "Madre de Dios!" escape her lips. When Rosa has a question she wants to ask, she’ll come up to my room and say, "Hey, Frankie, I’ve got a question about ‘Madre de Dios!’" It’s funny.
Anyhow, so now it was my turn. How did I feel about it? Mixed, to tell you the truth. I’m nobody’s sex god, let me tell you. I’m about 5’7", and not exactly muscular. To be honest, I’m scrawny. I’d probably be the type that people picked on, if I didn’t have some athletic accomplishments. Luckily, fast-which I am-is better for soccer than big and bulky is. It’s also better for playing center field. As for pitching-well, I get by. One thing I do have is nice, long, supple fingers. Mom jokes that I should’ve been a piano player. Instead, I put those fingers to use throwing a baseball. With my body, I don’t throw hard. Hell, I have a girl teammate that throws 20 mph harder than I do! If I didn’t like Lily a lot, I’d be jealous. But what my fingers do enable me to do is throw a ball that whistles "God Save The Queen" in seven languages on the way to the plate. Whatever gets the job done.
So, yeah, parading my scrawny body around Westport High in the nude wasn’t my first choice of activities. But, you know, I really didn’t have anything against it. I had seen so many friends go through it, and they all came out of it changed-and for the better. Of course, most of them also came out of it with Significant Others. I wasn’t counting on that. I’m not Mister Suave with the girls. I’m everybody’s buddy. I’ve had a few girlfriends-I’m not a virgin-but they always seemed to be short-lived. One ex-girlfriend told me I was "too easygoing." I still don’t know what that meant! I’ve come to think it’s code for "too scrawny." Hey, if girls really do think I’m too easygoing, I don’t know what to do about that. When you’re the oldest of five, you’d better be easygoing.
Anyhow, I walked into Mr. Tilling’s office that Monday morning, and found him behind his desk.
"So, are we just checking off the names of the baseball team one by one, or what?" I joked.
He chuckled. "Come on in, Frankie. No, I’m not. You were selected for The Program this week, yes, but for a reason."
"OK, fill me in," I said.
"When your partner gets here."
"And who might that be?" I asked.
"Cassandra Vyshenko."
Ah, Cassie. Cassie and I had been friends forever. She moved to Westport the summer before fifth grade-moved in four houses down from me, as a matter of fact. We’d been friends since then. We weren’t best friends-we ran with very different crowds, and I didn’t like much of hers. I did like her, though. I often wondered how she ended up hanging with the status-is-everything catty-gossip crowd. Her two best friends, Missy Jenkins and Laura Elliot, I couldn’t stand. And, for a while last school year and into the beginning of this one, she dated Nick Chase, who was the prototypical full-of-himself asshole football player. So, I didn’t run with Cassie much. But I did like her-she was a lot different from her friends, which is why I often wondered why they were her friends-and Rosa was best friends with her sister, Tanya.
I knew, however, that they preferred not to pair up friends in The Program. I was about to ask Mr. Tilling about that, when Cassie walked in.
"Hi, Mr. Tilling. Hey, Frankie." I smiled at her. "Did you tell him anything yet?" she asked Mr. Tilling.
"No, Cassie, I was waiting until you got here."
"OK, then," she said.
"Frankie, Cassie has a special situation. She wasn’t going to go into The Program at all, but she decided to give it a shot. Because she has an issue, we decided to let her pick her partner. She picked you."
"We’ve been friends forever," she smiled at me, "and I know you’re not an asshole."
"She’s going to need help. She’s going to need a lot of help," Mr. Tilling said.
"Anything for a pal," I grinned at them, "but what’s the big deal?"
"You’ll find out," Mr. Tilling said mysteriously. "Time to strip. You first, Frankie."
I took off my shirt, and said, "Look. Scrawny arms, scrawny chest." I went for the pants and said, "And now, the scrawny legs. How this guy pushes off the mound is a mystery." Cassie was giggling. I then stripped off my underpants.
"Well, that’s not scrawny," Cassie giggled.
I smiled at her. I didn’t think it was all that impressive, but it was nice of her to say what she did.
"Now, you, Cassie," Mr. Tilling said.
She dropped the smile, and started fidgeting with her shirt. "I’m going to turn around, so you get the full effect after I get everything off." She turned her back to us, and started stripping-very hesitantly. There was something here I wasn’t getting. Cassie was cute. She was petite-5’0" or 5’1", and probably not more than 100 or 110 pounds-but she was cute. She had longish, very curly light brown hair, which she often tied up in a ponytail or with a hairclip. She had cute blue eyes, an adorable button nose, and a smattering of freckles. I’d never seen her naked, but didn’t see any cause to complain.
She finally finished, and turned around-and, at first glance, I really didn’t see any cause to complain! Like I said, she was petite-which, under clothes, probably masked how curvy she was. Her breasts weren’t huge-probably a B-cup-but they looked big on her small frame, and then were firm and pert. Her hips and ass were perfectly proportional. She was thin, but not skinny, if you know what I mean.
Her legs were perfect.
"My God, Cass, you’re beautiful," I said. "I never knew how lovely you were." She beamed.
And then, I saw them. I really didn’t see them until after I registered how beautiful she was-but, then, I did. Scars. A lot of scars. A whole lattice-work of them, covering her belly from right below her breasts down, all the way down her stomach and trailing off onto her thighs. They were clearly not new-but she’d obviously been through something major. If they had been new, they would have been nasty. Now I knew why going naked was a big deal for her.
She was looking at me expectantly. So, I asked. "What’s up with the scars?"
She looked at me, and launched herself at me, wrapping me in a bear hug. "Thank you so much," she said.
"For what?"
"For telling me I was beautiful before you noticed the scars."
"That was genuine," I grinned. "I really did notice how gorgeous you were before I noticed the scars."
"I know. You’re a sweetheart, you always have been. That’s why I picked you." She sat down in one of the chairs across from Mr. Tilling. I sat next to her.
"A car accident. I was 8. This was before we moved here. I was in the car with my grandfather. Of course, at 8, I’m supposed to be in the back seat with a safety belt on, right? Well, I was a complete imp at that age. I had taken the belt off and climbed into the front seat, unbuckled, next to my Grandpa. Grandpa doted on me, and didn’t have the heart to tell me to get back where I belonged. That haunted the poor man for years."
"Anyhow, it was at an intersection. We had the green light, but some idiot ran the red light from the other direction. Grandpa couldn’t stop, and plowed right into him. The safety belt and air bag saved Grandpa, but I went right through the windshield."
"Oh, Jesus, Cassie," I interjected.
"Believe it or not, it could’ve been worse. The windshield shattered from the crash, so at least I didn’t break through it. Since they tell me I went headfirst, that could’ve been it. Broken neck. I don’t remember the crash, but they tell me that. What did happen is that my body went flying through the broken glass. They think I went facedown, because the glass above me was pretty cleared out. That’s why my back really didn’t have much damage, just a few scrapes from the falling glass. But my front scraped on jagged glass on the way out, and that’s why I got cut so bad. The glass ripped me to shreds. Some of the scars-the straighter, more regular ones-are from subsequent surgery, but most of them are from the original cuts. They think I had my legs together, which is a good thing, because I got within an inch on either side of my vagina, but the glass missed that."
"It looks like it didn’t miss much else," I said.

"No. I was in the hospital for quite a while. I lost my spleen. They had to repair my intestines. And I only have half a right kidney-luckily, the left one was undamaged. There were a lot of other things-I still get muscle pulls in my stomach. Plus one of my ovaries had to be removed. The other one’s fine. Luckily, my uterus was unscathed." She gulped. "And I did almost die from the blood loss. There was an ambulance not too far away. They told my parents that five more minutes and I might not have made it."
"My God," was all I said.
"It was a long time ago," she said. "I’d like to say I’m over it. But I’m not. I don’t wear a bikini. I won’t wear a belly shirt. I don’t take showers in gym. I make love in the dark, for goodness’ sake. The only person who’s ever seen this besides my family, until today, was Nick. And after he saw it, he wouldn’t let me take my shirt off when we made love. Said it was ‘gross’. That didn’t help."
"That asshole," I said.
"You knew it before I did. Wish I’d have listened," she grinned at me. "Anyhow, I’m tired of being so self-conscious about it. I don’t want to live in fear anytime someone might get a glimpse at my stomach. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of being with a guy, and either stopping it before it gets that far, or trying to hide it. I’m tired of going shopping with my main criteria being ‘don’t show any belly.’ I’m tired of it. I need to get over it. That’s why I told Mr. Tilling and Ms. T that I wanted to do The Program. Full immersion, get it over with."
"You live with it," I told her, "so you might not realize something. They’re not as bad as you think they are. Nick’s an asshole. I don’t see anything ‘gross’ about your body at all." And I meant it. She was beautiful, and the scars didn’t detract from that.
"Yeah, but Frankie, you are staring," she said-but she was grinning when she said it.
"Well, there’s these two, on your right thigh. They form a little heart. It’s kind of cute."
She looked down, and burst into laughter. "I never noticed that. It’s not as obvious from this angle. But you’re right, that is a heart." She turned and hugged me again. "Oh, I knew I picked right when I picked you!"
"What are friends for?" I smiled.
"OK, you two. Are you ready?" I nodded. Cassie did too, but not enthusiastically. "Frankie, she’s your partner. You need to support her."
"I plan on it," I said, earning another big grin from Cassie. "Cass, you are one brave person, you know that?" She blushed, and beamed at me.
"Good. Get out of here," Mr. Tilling said.
We walked out of the office. I went first.
CHAPTER TWO
CASSIE
Yes, I was scared. A lot. But my life had gotten to the point where I had to do something-and this seemed like the best solution.
Look, what had happened to me was extremely traumatic, no surprise. It wasn’t just physical-I needed therapy. I never have consciously remembered the accident, but I used to have horrific nightmares about it. And I do remember the recovery, which was traumatic enough.
So, I could say I was over it, that I recovered. But I lived with the reminder. And I’d live with the reminder every day for the rest of my life. It had gotten all bound up together. Every time I chose a one-piece bathing suit-and kept shorts on over it--every time I insisted on turning the lights off with a boyfriend, every time I held a shirt up to me to see if it showed the slightest hint of belly-it came back to me. Self-consciousness about the scars and reliving the trauma of the accident were all mixed up together. Therapists had told me for years that I had to come to terms with the scars. I thought I was finally ready to at least try.
I tried once before-with a person who said he loved me. Frankie was right about Nick-he told me right when we started going out that Nick was bad news. I should’ve listened.
I’ve known Frankie since I moved to town. He’s a sweetheart. We’ve never hung around together, but that doesn’t diminish our friendship-we just move in different circles. When we see each other, out in the street or at school-we’re friends. I’ve always liked him. And I knew he was a good soul at heart, which is why I picked him.
The thing is, if it weren’t for the scars, I don’t think I’d have any appearance issues. I’m petite, but I’m not rail-thin or anything. I have no issues with my facial features. I’m no Miss America, but I have no real issues. Except the scars. Frankie helped, with what he said. But Frankie was only one person.
He walked out of the office in front of me, to the waiting crowd. All of his friends were there. I didn’t see any of mine. Ed Bauer greeted him with, "Hey, Frankie’s naked! Another member of the ball team proudly strutting his stuff." He mock-sniffled. "Go make us proud, son." All of Frankie’s friends laughed.
I knew all these people, but not well-as I said, Frankie and I traveled in different circles. So, I was nervous as I stepped out of the office. I quickly realized why Frankie hung around with these people.
"Jesus, Cassie," Mike Kirkland, Frankie’s teammate on the ball team, said. "I never knew you were so curvy!"
"Damn right," Jared Wicklow agreed. "Cassie, you’re a babe." I glowed all over. Dammit, maybe this wouldn’t be that bad. Of course, after those nice words, they noticed. I could see them looking-and wondering what to say.
"Hey, Cassie," Ed Bauer broke the silence. "Do you know you have a map of Brazil on your stomach?"
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Frankie looked at him like he wanted to kill him, but then eased up when he saw me laughing. No, I didn’t get offended. I knew Ed well enough to know that jokes were his thing. That was better than a horrified gasp. Especially when Ed kept it up. "Really!" he said, coming over and touching my stomach. "See, here’s the Amazon, and this one here, that’s Rio de Janeiro." I giggled-because it tickled!
"I like the little heart on her right thigh," Frankie grinned.
"Oh, yeah," Ed agreed. "Cassie," he said seriously, "what happened, anyway?" I explained about the car accident.
"Wow. And you’re going through the program?" Lily Woodard asked me. "That’s brave."
"That’s what I told her," Frankie said.
"Well, I need to. And I asked for Frankie as a partner, because we’re friends. This is really scary."
"I’ll bet," Ed said.
"And I have to go to my first class, which Frankie isn’t in," I said.
"Bio, right?" Mike asked me. "I’m in it." He turned to Frankie. "I’ll keep an eye on her."
"Knew you would," Frankie grinned. "I’ll see you third period," he said to me, and the group disbanded. Mike walked with me to bio.
"You guys really watch out for each other," I said to Mike.
"Yeah, we’re pretty close-knit. Especially those of us who’ve been through The Program. Which is Jared and Amanda, Ed and Natalie, and me and Lily." He grinned. "Now you and Frankie."
"Yeah. It’s neat that you all support one another."
"Well, you know, we know what to expect. By the way, watch out for the fondling," he grinned.
" That I can handle. Why, did you want a crack?" I teased.
"Well, let’s see-I go out with a girl who could take my head off with a well-placed fastball. And I don’t have any current Program participation myself as an excuse. So I think I’ll just walk you to class and keep my hands to myself," he grinned.
"Lily’s something else," I said. "I don’t know if she knows how much she’s a hero to a lot the girls in school. And moreso to younger girls-my sister Tanya and Frankie’s sister Rosa, who are both 12, worship her for what she did."
"Oh, Jesus, don’t ever tell her that, OK? All I need is for her ego to expand more," Mike laughed.
"She has a big ego?" I asked.
"Well, not in general. About pitching? Oh, you bet your ass," he laughed.
"I guess you’d have to have one to be that good-especially being a girl in a guy’s game."
"Oh, don’t think for a second I’m complaining," Mike said. "I love to watch some skeptical guy walk up to the plate against her-and then watch her blow him away with her ‘take that, motherfucker’ look in her eye. It’s great."
"You really love her, don’t you?" I asked.
"Yeah, I really do," he admitted.
"That’s sweet," I smiled. "Hey, look, we’re almost at class and I’ve escaped the groping."
"How’d that happen?" he laughed.
"Everyone took one look at my scars and backed away," I grumbled.
"Now, Cassie, don’t assume that." We walked into class. I heard the murmuring-but then I heard the gasps. It was unmistakable. Not everyone, but enough for me to hear. Mike just patted my shoulder and walked to his seat.
"Cassie? How are you doing?" Ms. T asked me.
"Well, the ordeal has just started," I grinned. "We’ll see."
She made me sit in front of the class. When the class quieted down, she said, "Guys, we have a Program participant in the class today. Cassie Vyshenko has decided to do The Program this week. She has a special motivation for doing so, and I’d like her to tell you about it."
So, I did. I talked about the scars, and about the accident. And I talked about the self-consciousness I had about the scars, and how it had affected my life. I told them that I hoped getting through the Program would help some of that. I got an ovation when I was done. That was nice.
My next period was Spanish, which was OK. Lily was in that class, and she sat next to me. Another one of Frankie’s friends watching out for me. It really was incredible how close-knit they were.
Third period was where the trouble began.
It was history, and it was the first period that I shared with Frankie. However, there were other people in that class. My two best friends, Missy Jenkins and Laura Elliot. And the guy I had been dating for two weeks, Paul Ribeiro.
People have wondered how I could be such good friends with Missy and Laura. Frankie hasn’t said much, but I know he doesn’t like them. When I first moved to Westport, in fifth grade, they were the first friends I made besides Frankie. And I guess I’m a creature of habit. We’ve been a threesome since then.
Yeah, I knew they could be shallow. I knew they could be judgmental. Hey, I’m not for a second going to pretend that I wasn’t guilty of both those things myself. I’m not perfect. And they could also be nice, and hanging out with them was fun.
So, I knew they could be shallow and judgmental-and I also knew they thought The Program was stupid. But I also thought I’d get some support from them-they were supposed to be my two best friends.
Talk about shattering your illusions.
" You are doing the Program?" Missy started. "Why on earth?"
"I needed to," I said simply.
Laura gasped. "Oh my God, what is all that crap on your stomach?"
"Scars. Car accident, when I was eight. That’s why I wanted to do the program, because I’m too self-conscious about them," I said.
"Well, you should be!" Missy asserted. "They’re gross!"
"And now we’re going to have to look at them all week!" Laura added. "Cassie, that’s disgusting."
"Jesus. Now I know why you never wear a bikini," Missy added. "And it’s a good thing, nobody wants to go to the beach and see that."
Unbelievable. I got more support from Frankie’s friends-who I barely knew-than I did from my own. I was practically in tears. "You two are supposed to be my friends," I said. "I expected more support than this."
"Support?" Missy said. "You want us to support you walking around grossing everybody out? I’ll give you support. I’ll go fetch your clothes for you, so you can cover that shit up."
As this went on, I managed a glimpse at Paul-who was looking at me in horror.
Just then, Frankie came up behind me-and started rubbing my shoulders. "It’s OK," he whispered in my ear.
"You’re in it, too?" Laura said to him. "How appealing-the program, featuring the Scarred and the Scrawny. I think I might barf."
"Maybe next week you and Missy can get into it, and it will be the Asshole and the Bitch," Frankie snarled. As they sputtered, he grabbed me by the shoulders and steered me to the other side of the class, in a seat next to him.
"Are you OK?" he asked me.
"No, not particularly," I said. "My two best friends."
"They’re just jealous," he said.
"Jealous?"
"Yeah. They’d never have the guts to do this," he smiled at me.
The rest of the class proceeded without incident, and Frankie walked me to my next class, art. And I walked in, and saw the front of the class set up with props, clearly meant for a human being to be posed on and with.
Uh-oh.
Frankie was in that class-thank goodness-but so were Missy and Laura. I wasn’t looking forward to this.
Mrs. Taylor, our teacher, confirmed my fears. "This is what I’ve been waiting for," she grinned. "We’ve had students in The Program in class all year-but you don’t start with something like Life Drawing, you have to work your way up to it. So, this week, this class gets to do it. Cassandra and Frankie are going to be our models."
"Oh, gross," Laura muttered. I don’t think Mrs. Taylor heard her, but I did.
"Having two of you gives us lots of possibilities, but I’m going to start with solo poses. Cassie, why don’t you come up here?"
Gulp.
I walked to the front of the class, and, of course, she noticed. "You have scars," was all she said.
"Car accident, when I was eight," I told her. I should just bring a tape recorder with that phrase recorded on it and hit play all day.
"That must have been nasty. You have a lot of courage doing The Program, Cassie." I just smiled at her. Then she spoke to the class. "You will notice that Cassandra has scars on her stomach. She tells me it’s from a car accident. Well, when you’re drawing, it’s just one more thing you have to deal with. Everybody has something. It’s no different from the dimple Cassandra gets in her cheeks when she smiles. It’s no different than the wrinkles in her nipples. When we get Frankie up here tomorrow, you’ll notice he has hairy arms. It’s no different. When you’re drawing, you have to make the decision of how-and if-to draw these things. But it’s just part of the whole. Everybody has something-hair, dimples, wrinkles, scars. I had a student in The Program last year that we drew, who had a prominent mole on her hip. How you draw the person depends on what you see."
She smiled at me and first had me pose on the couch. Pretty standard prone-position pose. I was on my side, legs together. Lying on my left side, I was holding my head up with my left elbow. My right arm was on my right side-on top, that is. She told me to look at the class and smile. I held that for a while as pencils scritched on paper.
Then, she maneuvered me to a ladder she had. I was standing up for this one, up against the ladder. She had me face the class, leaning against the ladder. My left leg was on the ground, my right one bent with my foot on the bottom rung. She had me reach slightly behind me and grip the ladder with both hands. I managed to joke, "Oh, great, that makes my stomach more prominent."
"I was noticing that it was the boobs that were more prominent," Frankie yelled out, getting a giggle from the class-well, most of it-a grin from Mrs. Taylor-and a blush from me!
Anyhow, she made me turn my head for this one, giving a side view to my face, and she told me to look pensive rather than smile.
After a while of that one, I got to stretch and take a break. "You can check out what your classmates are doing," she told me. "Walk around, take a look."
Yeah, I looked at Laura and Missy’s. I probably shouldn’t have. Laura just drew my face in both pictures, refusing to deal with the rest of me. Missy was worse-she drew all of me, but my stomach was drawn as an ugly mess of dark black jagged scribbles-and she didn’t seem to put much effort into drawing the rest of me. That’s what she saw-an ugly mess of dark jagged scribbles.
I sighed, and moved to Frankie. He sat next to his friend Amanda, so I stood in between their easels and looked at both of them.
"I’m no Picasso, so be kind," Amanda joked.
"Hey, I’m a baseball player," Frankie laughed. But both pictures were nice. Neither of them shied away from the scars, but neither over-emphasized them, either. And, yes, Frankie, in the ladder pose, did seem to put a whole lot of emphasis on my boobs! I also liked the way he drew my eyes. And, while he didn’t over-emphasize the scars-he did make the heart-shaped one on my thigh prominent. I smiled at that.
"I like them. Thanks," I told them.
"Go check out Natalie," Amanda said, pointing. Natalie Weinberg was Ed Bauer’s new girlfriend. They had gone through The Program last week. "Natalie’s really talented," Amanda continued.
"She really is," Frankie agreed. "She’s been drawing sketches of the baseball team-we have them hung up in the locker room."
I walked over to where Natalie was-and gasped. Oh my God, was she good!
She did the same thing Frankie and Amanda did-dealt with the scars, but didn’t over-emphasize them. And the rest of me! Wow. With the ladder pose especially, she actually made me look sexy!
"Wow. I’m flabbergasted," I said.
"Thanks," she beamed.
"How the hell did you make me look sexy?" I asked.
"You are sexy," she laughed. "Hey, I’m straight, but, when you’re an artist, you learn to recognize these things."
"We’ve been in this class all year and I never remember seeing any of your stuff hung up," I told her.
"I never let Mrs. Taylor do that," she admitted. "Hey, we all have reasons to hide things. Sometimes it takes a kick in the pants, or someone seeing something from a different angle, to realize that you have no reason to hide anything. I got mine last week."
She was saying that, and I was looking at a drawing that made me look sexy. Wow. "Frankie and Amanda told me you were good," I grinned.
"Yeah, the baseball team discovered me sketching last week. Now they want me to keep doing it," she giggled. "I can’t wait for Friday."
"Friday?" I asked.
"The team has three games this week. Today is an away game, but Wednesday and Friday are home games. Wednesday will be cool, because I haven’t drawn Lily pitching yet. But Friday will be particularly cool-because, though I’ve drawn Frankie pitching, not in the nude," she giggled.
I laughed, and then Mrs. Taylor called me back up to the front. She had me do one more-sitting, elbows on my knees, chin in my hands, grinning. Even Laura and Missy dealt with that one better-my stomach was mostly hidden behind my arms-but I really liked the way Frankie drew the twinkle in my eyes. And I liked the way Natalie drew everything. She really was talented.
Feeling better, I headed to lunch.
CHAPTER THREE
FRANKIE
Oh, man, I felt so bad for her.
Art got better, after she saw some of the drawings that just treated her scars as just another part of her. But the two hyenas that called themselves her best friends couldn’t bring themselves to do that. It sucked.
Lunch was worse.
I was behind her in the line the whole time. The first thing I saw was that rat Paul breaking up with her! That asshole-did it right in the lunch line, in front of everyone else. He walked up to her and said, "Cassie, I think we should break up. I can’t handle it," and walked away. I saw her shoulders slump-but I couldn’t get to her because she was eight or so people ahead of me in line.
What happened when we got out of line might have been worse. She went over to her usual table.
"Jeez, Cassie, do you have to eat here like that?" Laura said.
"Yeah, I can’t eat looking at you. It’s too gross," Missy pitched in.
"I’m afraid I’ll barf my lunch right back up," Laura continued.
Damn it all to hell, she looked like she was going to cry. I walked up to her, put my tray in my left hand, wrapped my right arm around her waist, and steered her away from them.
"You eat with us," I said. She gave me a grateful smile. "I’m sorry about Paul."
"Well, it wasn’t any big love affair," she sniffled. "I liked him, but it was only two weeks. It’s why he did it."
"And how he did it. That showed no class," I told her. She just shrugged, and by then we were at the table.
"Hey, Brazil!" Ed joked as Cassie approached the table. Natalie hit him. "Look. Boyfriend abuse. Why do I put up with this?" he lamented.
We all laughed. "How’s everything going?" Amanda asked us.
"Well, my best friends don’t want to eat with me because I’m too ‘gross and disgusting’, and the guy who I was dating just dumped me. Outside of that, everything’s fine," Cassie said.
"Oh, damn," Ed said.
"I just don’t get it," I said.
"What don’t you get?" Ed asked me.
"The whole thing. So, she’s got a few scars. Who cares?" Cassie beamed at me.
After that, the conversation turned to generalities, with Ed trying his best to get Cassie to laugh. He made the same joke I had thought of that morning, about The Program going through the baseball team one-by-one.
"Well, not me, because I opted out," Ty Christopher chuckled.
"Yeah, that’s because all those overblown muscles of yours would scare the children," I teased. Ty and I get on one another all day long.
"Better that than having to grab a tree when the wind blows, you beanpole," he volleyed back. "Anyhow, no. I opted out because they couldn’t guarantee that Emma and I would go through it together. She opted out for the same reason. We talked about it." He took a drink from his coke. "It’s not that we don’t trust one another, not at all. It’s just that if we went through it, buddied up with someone else, we didn’t think it’d be half as much fun. Look, all you guys that went through it made new friendships, and you all got boyfriends or girlfriends out of it. Well, I’ve been dating the love of my life for some time now, and I’ve got great friends. Even Gutierrez," he joked. "So, what would be the point?" he asked.
"I’m wondering that myself right now," Cassie said depressedly. I looked at her. "Look what I got. My friends insult me and I lose my boyfriend. It seems to work in reverse if you’re ‘damaged’." She sniffled, and said "Excuse me," and bolted out of the chair, sobbing, headed for the bathroom.
"Oh, fuck," I said. A quick look between Mike, Lily, and myself, and Lily got up and followed her. I stood up right after.
"Where are you going?" Ty asked.
"Some people need a talking to," I said, and wandered over to the table where Missy and Laura were sitting. Did I say earlier that I was easy-going? Well, yeah, 99 percent of the time. This was the one percent. I was furious.
"Well, look at this," I said, approaching them. "Cassie’s best friends. With friends like you, who needs homicidal maniacs? She’s in the bathroom bawling. I hope you’re happy."
"Fuck you, Frankie," Laura said. "Nobody told her to parade her scars all over the place."
"She’s doing it because she has to. Those scars aren’t just on the outside. If you had an ounce of compassion, you’d see that," I said. "You and that asshole Paul. He just dumped her."
"Well, do you blame him?" Missy said. "Who’d want to go out with someone who looked like that?" she said. Laura nodded agreement.
"I would," I said. "We’re good friends, and I’ve learned not to mess with a friendship, but based on looks alone? I’d go out with her in a heartbeat. She’s beautiful, scars or no."
"You’re crazy. They’re disgusting," Laura said.
"Well, Laura, let me tell you a few things-your eyes are too far apart. Your nose is huge. You have no tits." She looked at me in shock. "As for you, Missy, you could stand to lose twenty pounds, your mouth is ugly as hell, and your hair is a disaster area." They were dumbfounded. "And that’s clothed. If the two of you ever had the guts to do The Program, I’m sure I could find a lot more flaws. Now, I’m not much into insults, usually, because it’s obvious that I am no prize. But the two of you need to get off your high horse. And I haven’t even gotten into how ugly and repulsive your personalities are."
After that, I walked away-them gaping at me. Damn, that felt good. I had a feeling that Cass wouldn’t be too happy with me when she found out about that diatribe-but I had to.
I heard back that Lily had calmed her down in the bathroom. And she was better by the time I saw her last period, in psychology. We had a nice discussion in that class about how people react to visual stimulus-especially unexpected visual stimulus. The people in the class were nice to Cassie-good thing, since she was the center of that discussion-and it was fine. Of course, those two hyenas weren’t in that class.
We had an away game afterwards, and Cassie had band practice-she plays the flute. After the game-which we lost, our first loss of the season, dammit-I got home right in the middle of the dinner preparations.
I found Mom and Rosa, along with Tanya-Cassie’s sister-in the kitchen. I kissed Mom and Rosa on the cheek, then grinned at Tanya, who was rolling out homemade flour tortillas.
"Hey, not bad for a Ukrainian," I told her.
"Well, if I cut ‘em in half, put cheese in the middle and folded them up, they’d be varenniki," she laughed.
"Varenniki?"
"Ukrainian filled dumplings," she grinned. "Well, yeah, the recipes are different-varenniki are moister and stickier. But rolling dough is rolling dough." She looked at me. "Hey, so did you start today, you and Cass?"
"Yeah."
"I came over here before Cass came home from band practice. How did it go?" she asked.
"Not well. Can you please tell me why she hangs around with Missy and Laura?" I steamed.
"Oh, no. They gave her a hard time?" Tanya asked.
"A real hard time," I said.
"What are you talking about?" Mama asked.
"Well, Mama, they put me in The Program today." Mama just kind of put her hand on her forehead. Rosa and I looked at each other and mouthed "Madre de Dios!" with a grin.
"Oy, my baby is running around the school naked?" Mom said.
"Yeah. My partner is Cassie."
"Cassie, Tanya’s sister Cassie?" Mom asked.
"Yeah. She has a problem, so she requested me."
"She was in a really bad car accident when she was eight," Tanya told her, "so she has bad scars all over her stomach and thighs. She’s really self-conscious about it."
"Yeah, and she decided to do The Program, as kind of a cure. And the powers that be let her pick her own partner, for the support, so she picked me."
"Ah," Mama said. "And you help her, si?"
"Si. Unfortunately, the two people who are supposed to be her best friends didn’t."
"I don’t like those two, never have," Tanya said.
"And Paul broke up with her," I added.
"JEEZ!" Tanya exclaimed. "My poor sister."
"Is it that horrible, the scars I mean?" Mama asked.
"I never thought so, but I grew up with her like that," Tanya said.
"Well, I didn’t-today’s the first time I ever saw her naked-and I didn’t think they were that bad, either. People see what they want to see, I guess. Your sister’s beautiful-scars don’t change that," I said.
Tanya grinned at me. "You like my sister!"
"Of course I do, how long have we been friends?"
Tanya’s grin got wider. "No, I mean you like my sister!"
"Let’s not get carried away, here," I grinned at her. "Cassie and I are friends."
"Sure," Tanya grinned.
CHAPTER FOUR
CASSIE
The rest of the afternoon was all right, I guess. Band practice was fine. When I got home, Mom asked me to go fetch Tan from the Gutierrez’s.
I knocked on the door, and Frankie answered. "Hey. Looking for your menace of a little sister?"
"Yeah," I laughed. He let me in, and I found Tanya in the kitchen. I said hi to Rosa and Mrs. Gutierrez.
"Hi, Cass. Frankie likes you, you know," Tanya said.
"I should hope so, we’re friends," I laughed.
"No, I mean he really likes you," Tanya maintained.
"Yes, Cass. I must confess. You are the love of my life. Marry me now and have twelve babies," he joked.
"Twelve? You are crazy," I smiled back. "So, why is my sister trying to set us up, anyway?"
"She asked how it went today."
"Ah," I said with a frown.
"And Frankie said he didn’t care about your scars, that you were beautiful anyway," Tanya piped up.
"Well, you are," Frankie grinned. "Somehow, that little compliment has lead your insane sister to suddenly start shopping for a bridesmaid’s dress."
"Well, of course," I grinned. "Need I remind you, she’s twelve. Girls are all die-hard romantics at twelve."
"Ah. When I was twelve, all I cared about was learning the knuckleball," he said.
"See, you had the knuckleball. Tanya’s being a knucklehead."
"HEY!" Tanya said.
"Truth hurts, Tan," I grinned. "Come on, Mom wants you home." She came, after saying goodbye. On the way home, she said it again.
"Frankie does like you, I swear! I saw it in his eyes!"
"How would you know?" I joked. "Tanya, Frankie and I are friends. Boyfriends come and go. Friends are forever. Got me?"
"I think you’re nuts," Tanya said. "Frankie Gutierrez is the nicest guy you know." Well, she was right about that. "Hell, he’s probably the nicest person you know. Considering what he told me about Missy and Laura."
"I don’t even want to think about those two," I said.
We settled in for dinner. I told Mom and Dad all about my day. They commiserated with me about Missy and Laura.
"It’ll get better," Mom said. "It was the first day."
"I expected random strangers. Not my two best friends."
"Yeah, I can see where that was tough."
After dinner, while doing some homework, I got a phone call. It was from another friend, Vicki Langham.
"Hey, Cass," she said. "I think I should warn you about something. Frankie came over to our table at lunch and read Missy and Laura the riot act. And they’re pissed."
"He did?"
"Yeah, towards the end. I guess you were in the bathroom crying. He told them to get off their high horse, said they were shitty friends. When they went on about how ugly your scars were, he even told Laura her nose was too big and she had no tits-and then he told Missy she was overweight and had bad hair."
I couldn’t help it. I giggled. "He didn’t!"
"Yes, he did," she laughed.
"Vicki, why are you telling me this?" I asked her.
"Because I wanted you to watch out. Those two are on the warpath." She dropped her voice a little. "Honestly, I wanted to cheer Frankie on. Those two have been horrible to you. You have a lot of guts doing what you’re doing, Cassie. I mean that."
"Thanks, Vicki. I appreciate it."
I hung up the phone, and had to smile. First about Vicki-at least not all of my friends are assholes.
And about Frankie. Good ol’ even-keel, never-get-upset Frankie Gutierrez-got mad defending me. He really was a sweetheart.
I finished my homework, and went to bed.
--End of Part One-