Second Skin

by Jessica Wollman

  "I still think it looks weird," Adrienne said. Her eyes skipped to my face and she added a hasty, "But if you think it's fine I'm sure it is."

  I climbed down from the ladder and looked around the room. Not bad. Not too bad. Sure, the Little Dipper was upside down, and the black circle hanging from the ceiling looked more black eye than black hole. But all in all, the place was really shaping up. Nice and spacey. And we were just about done.

  It was a good thing too. After almost a solid week of decorating, my hands were covered in paint. I could do just about anything with a glue gun, and I was pretty sure I'd be washing glitter

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  out of my hair, and lord knows where else, until graduation. Plus, I was exhausted. And the dance was less than five hours away.

  I faked a yawn and tried to lift my arms above my head. I got about as high as my shoulders before I flinched. The Skin was holding me back. When I'd woken up that morning, it felt tighter than ever. Like I was wearing a child's wet suit.

  "Oh!" Jules squealed, bending and stretching alongside me. "Pre-dance calorie burner!" She tilted her head toward me knowingly. "My dress is so tight if I eat even one Twizzler I won't be able to zip it up."

  You don't know the half of it, I thought, clasping my hands behind my back. I tried to raise them but they refused to budge any higher than my hips. I frowned. I was never the most flexible person in the world-pep squad had certainly proven that point-but this was ridiculous.

  The rest of the pep pack circled round me and immediately began twisting their bodies into a series of gravity-defying shapes.

  "This is such a great idea," Adrienne added, a look of pure glee on her face as she kicked her leg up, touching her knee to her head. "I didn't have time to work out this morning!"

  Resisting the urge to zap her with the glue gun, I tried to force my body into a single jumping

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  jack. I was barely halfway through when my cell rang.

  Thank you, I thought as I flipped it open.

  "Yo," Tanner said. I'd realized weeks ago that normal pleasantries-like "please,"

  "goodbye" and "sorry I just pounded you on the back when a simple pat would do"-weren't his style. "I'm still at the game."

  "Game?" I asked, my mind a complete blank. "You're at a game now?"

  "Yeah, you know. Up at Valley." He sounded surprised that I'd forgotten. And a little annoyed. "Looks like my boys and I have an overtime situation on our hands. Could be a few more hours. Better hit the dance without me, okay?"

  "What do you mean? We were supposed to go together."

  "Sorry, babe," Tanner said, not sounding very sorry at all. "But duty calls. Gotta go. This photographer's snapping my pic and I want to make sure he gets my name in the caption....Hey, man, that's Tanner with two ns, okay?"

  "But-" I sputtered as the phone clicked off.

  Great. I, Samantha Klein, the most popular girl at Woodlawn High and cochair of the Spring Fling committee, was minus one dream date.

  "What's wrong?" Jules asked, noticing the look of alarm on my face. "Did you forget to buy

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  something?" She patted my arm reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. I've got extras of everything."

  I had to get out of here.

  "Uh, listen," I said, backing away from the group. "The paint fumes are giving me a headache. I'm gonna take a walk."

  I shot out of the room, ignoring Jules's predictable "Wait! I'll come with!"

  Not good. This is so not good, I thought as I pushed open the blue fireproof doors that led to the parking lot. I had to go to Spring Fling. It was my dance-my night. Everyone knew I was a shoo-in for Spring Fling Queen. How could I not show? Of course, Jules would definitely let me tag along with her and Chuck-but that was so lame. So old me.

  Nope. I definitely needed an escort. Only all the guys were taken...

  Except one.

  The idea fluttered through my head like the Albert Einstein of butterflies. I flipped open my cell and punched in Alex's number.

  He picked up almost immediately.

  Thank you for having absolutely no social life, I thought. "Hey!" I began, cheerfully. "What are you doing right now?"

  "Sam?" Alex asked. He sounded surprised and not particularly pleased. "Is that you?"

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  "Dun! Of course it's me, silly," I said. Wait-was that my voice? It sounded thicker than usual, with a definite flirty undertone. "What are you up to?"

  "Uh, I was just heading out to the roof," Alex said. I could picture him, standing in the middle of his room wearing a stained T-shirt and pants that were baggy in a way that never had been-and never would be-fashionable. "Remember the lunar phases I told you about? Well, tonight's the waxing gibbous."

  "Sounds great," I lied, thinking that a waxing gibbous sounded more like a wrestling move than a moon cycle. "But I was wondering if you wanted to go to Spring Fling."

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  "Wait, with you?" Alex said, after a few more painful seconds had slipped by.

  Okay, not exactly the enthusiastic response I was looking for, but not necessarily a no.

  I giggled. "Yes with me."

  "But I thought Tanner was taking you," Alex said, his tone icy. This too was easy to picture. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw set. I'd go with clenched fists and white knuckles, too.

  Alex definitely had a jock complex.

  My heart twisted. If I told the truth-that he was no more than a last-minute sub--I'd hurt his

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  feelings and be dateless. It was a lose-lose all around.

  "Look, I know things have been sort of weird between us lately, so I thought maybe we could hang out tonight." I squeezed my eyes shut as I threw myself into yet another lie. "Besides, I decided I'd rather go to the dance with someone I'm really comfortable with. Someone like you."

  Another silence. Was I imagining things or did this one feel different from the first? Less tense.

  "Uh, what time should I pick you up?" Alex asked. His voice was warmer now, almost happy.

  Whew. As much as it could, my body relaxed under the iron grip of the Skin. "How 'bout eight?" I suggested.

  "Great," he said. "And listen, Sam?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Thanks."

  "We're gonna have fun," I said, hanging up the phone.

  Crisis averted, I thought as I turned onto my street. I tried to imagine the night ahead but it was hard. I'd spent so long dreaming about Spring Fling with Tanner-dancing with Tanner, laughing with Tanner, kissing Tanner (real kisses this time-not the hasty pecks from past dates). Now my brain had less than three hours to revise the picture with Alex instead. There

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  would definitely be laughing. But what about dancing? Doubtful. And kissing was out of the question.

  Me. Kissing Alex.

  I waited for a knot to form in my stomach. Or nausea. Or some other vile physical response. Nothing happened. My pulse fluttered a little, but I was pretty sure that was due to the walking, not the kissing.

  Whatever, I thought, climbing the steps to my room. I tried to raise my knees extra high to give the Skin a good stretch. At least I had a date.

  I slipped out of my clothes and ran a bath. And then I tried to slide the Skin off of my body.

  Only I couldn't. It was completely and totally stuck.

  I pulled. And tugged. And hopped. Nada. The Skin clung to me like melted plastic. I spent the next forty minutes trying to get it off, with absolutely no results.

  Sore and exhausted, I looked at the clock. Alex would be over in less than a half hour and I was still sweaty and paint-covered. In a panic, I hopped into the tub and prayed that the Skin wouldn't melt like the Wicked Witch of the West.

  Lather. Rinse. Repeat. No damage done. And as I stepped out of the tub, the Skin dried almost immediately. I barely needed a towel.

  As clean as a laminated body can get, I put on

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&n
bsp; my dress and shoved my feet into my new stilettos, then stomped around my room trying to scuff the soles.

  Calm down, I ordered. Don't think about the Skin. You don't have time.

  Spring Fling was about to be flung.

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  TWENTY-EIGHT

  " N ot bad," Alex said, looking around the cafeteria. The Little Dipper, I noticed, was still upside down, but Alex was kind enough to overlook that point. "I'd have included at least one Star Trek reference, but other than that I'm impressed." He turned to me, his hand extended. "Congratulations. I'm sure you'll get into space camp."

  "Thanks," I said, flashing him a weak smile as we walked past Saturn. From the main room to the ministage, the place was packed, covered with constellations and filled with music. Spring Fling was a success. And I was freaking out.

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  This wasn't just post-traumatic guilt from the many white-okay, beige-lies I'd spewed either. And it had nothing to do with all the glitter I'd inhaled over the past week or the fact that I was now permanently shrink-wrapped (although yes, that was definitely freaky).

  The main reason for my current weird-out had to do with Alex. Yes, Alex. My geeky-but-hilarious, known-him-since-just-about-forever friend Alex.

  I'd actually been doing pretty well, considering. As I'd stood in the foyer waiting for him to pick me up, I kept offering myself words of silent encouragement-you can do it! and keep it up!- sort of like I was my own personal trainer.

  And then the bell rang.

  Alex was standing in the doorway, hair freshly washed and cut, wearing a suit. He looked so normal. And so tall. And so incredibly...wow.

  My heart did an Olympic-caliber double axel inside my chest. I'd never felt anything like it before. Not with Tanner. Not with anyone in People magazine's "Top Ten Hottest Bachelors" issue. Not with anyone on a billboard.

  And definitely not with Alex.

  The excitement was totally weird, and completely unwelcome (as were the admiring glances I'd seen several girls cast his way since

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  we'd walked in; I almost kicked them). I had way too much going on already. I just couldn't handle this.

  Besides, I had a boyfriend. His name was Tanner Mullins and he was perfect. Okay, perfect-looking. Whatever. The point was, I didn't need any more complications. Not now. Now was Spring Fling. I'd waded through weeks of boring meetings and a sea of arts and crafts supplies just to get here. It was my night. And it was supposed to be easy and problem-free.

  "You look amazing," Jules said, approaching.

  How'd she do it? I wondered, staring at her dress. I'd been completely close-mouthed about my Spring Fling fashion choices. I'd shopped alone and kept the whole ensemble hidden in the back of my closet for weeks. But somehow Jules had managed to outfit-stalk me anyway. Her dress was a variation of my own--black mini verging on micro, buttons down the back-and she was wearing the exact same pair of Steve Madden heels.

  I glanced around. With all the curly hair in the room, the cafeteria was screaming for a huge squirt of Frizz-Ease. And almost every girl was wearing a minidress, too. It was like a sixties tribute fest.

  Oh, let it go, I thought, turning to Jules. "Thanks," I said. "You look great too. Nice dress."

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  She smiled, completely unaware that by complimenting her I was basically complimenting myself.

  "Hi, Alan," she said, noticing Alex for the first time.

  "Hey," he said coolly. He turned to me. "Um, listen, Sam. Can I talk to you for a second? Alone?"

  Oh my. This wasn't going to work. How could I have a vapid, thought-free evening with Alex around making my pulse do all the extreme pep squad-style moves my body refused to even attempt?

  "Sure," I said, thinking fast. "But could you do me a huge favor first? I'd love a Diet Coke."

  Alex tilted his head to one side. "A Diet Coke," he repeated.

  "Right. Extra cold."

  He shrugged. "Uh, sure. Be right back."

  It wasn't a nice thing to do, I thought as I watched him disappear into the throng. But compared to the other not-nice things I'd done in the past few weeks, it barely hit the top ten.

  Not that that made me feel any better.

  "Congrats on the refreshments," Heidi said, walking up to me. She also wore a minidress, which struggled to cover her long, thin body. She lifted a plate of pastries. "Have you tried the mini éclairs? They're amazing."

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  Uh-oh, I thought, swinging my head toward the refreshments table. I'd completely forgotten that Gwen was cooking. And that Gwen was at the dance.

  Judging from the look she was shooting my way, the slight hadn't gone unnoticed. Since the scene in Williams-Sonoma, we were no longer in an official fight. But I was definitely on probation.

  "Be right back," I told Jules and Heidi, and cut across the room.

  Ouch. The Skin was seriously digging into my side. I felt like I was being liposuctioned.

  "Thanks so much for leaving the chick clique behind," Gwen said as I approached. "Very considerate. It's dangerous to have all that hair product near the food."

  "Wow," I said, looking down at the table. It was covered with desserts: lemon squares, Linzer cookies, petit fours and brownies. They were all there, spread out on long silver trays. "Move over, Martha Stewart."

  Gwen rolled her eyes. "Hack," she muttered under her breath. She looked at me, the hint of a smile on her lips. "It turned out pretty well, right? I was a little worried about the seven-layer bars but I think-"

  I shook my head. "Everything looks great. Really. Thanks so much."

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  "No problem. It was actually sort of fun." She turned just as Chuck Todd plucked five meringues from the buffet and shoved them into his mouth at once.

  I winced as Gwen's expression leapt from satisfied to offended.

  Don't say anything, I begged silently. Oh please don't say anything.

  Evidently, I was in no position to ask for favors.

  Gwen stalked over to Chuck. "Can't you at least chew?" she demanded, waving her hand over the spread. "This stuff didn't exactly come from a mix."

  Chuck snorted. "What's the big deal, Pot Roast?" he asked, clearly amused. He swiped a few chocolate lace cookies from a tray. "I'll bet you pack away twice that much."

  I watched, horrified, as laughter erupted around us. Gwen's cheeks colored and her mouth dropped open, ready to deliver the insult her brain hadn't yet formed.

  I took a step toward Chuck, ready to tell him to shut up, when Gwen's eyes met mine.

  "Oh my god," she breathed, incredulous. "You're smiling."

  I was? No way. My hands flew to my mouth, touching the plastic grin that stretched across my face. I was.

  A shiver ran down my spine. It was like I was

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  watching myself through the lens of a camera, from across the room. My head was tilted; my hair frizzed down the back of my slinky dress...and my mouth was frozen into a big, phony smile. It was me. Definitely me. But I was completely unrecognizable.

  "I didn't mean-" I started in. God, her face was killing me. I could handle Gwen's sarcasm. I even expected it. But this-all the hurt and disappointment-it was too much.

  "Who are you?" she asked, shaking her head. Tears swam in her eyes. "I mean, really?"

  I had no idea. But before I had a chance to say anything, a song blasted through the speakers. I recognized it immediately as one of Jules's favorites. It was light, poppy...and definitely in the top ten.

  Gwen tossed me a final, pained smile. "Perfect," she said, turning away. "Just perfect."

  "See ya, Pot Roast!" Chuck Todd shouted after her as she disappeared through the crowd. His jock friends whooped appreciatively.

  Shut up.

  I thought the words, but for some reason couldn't say them. It didn't really matter anyway. I was too late.

  "Hey," Alex said, appearing by my side, Diet Coke in hand. "I tried three different tables-this one's definitely th
e coldest."

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  "Uh, thanks," I said, grabbing the can. I had to find Gwen. I had to make things right between us or I'd never be able to live with myself.

  "So listen," Alex said. "About before...I wanted to talk to you."

  "Um, could we maybe do this later?" I asked, feeling extra clumsy. "Now's not really a good time-"

  "The thing is: I'm in love with you."

  "You..." I trailed off, unable to finish. My head was spinning as the planet-filled room fell away. This is real, I told myself. This is really happening.

  "Right. I love you," Alex said, sounding relieved and not at all nervous. "I have for-well, pretty much for forever."

  I stared at him as several different and completely contradictory reactions twisted inside me. On the one hand, I was too shocked to process much of anything and was in serious danger of hyperventilating. I felt like I'd just completed four back-to-back pep squad practices.

  Another part of me heard the words but refused to believe them. I simply wasn't worthy. Alex was too good for me. Too smart. Too cute. Too honest. He was completely out of my league.

  But at the same time-and I realize this makes absolutely no sense-I wasn't shaken at all.

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  Alex's "I've loved you forever" speech wrapped around me, as warm and comfortable as cashmere. It felt great and I was glad to hear it. Definitely.

  Then, finally, came the ugly part-the awful part. The one that told me this simply wouldn't work. Samantha Klein and Alex Ashby? Come on. The most popular girl in school and a guy who builds soapbox cars? Impossible...

  It was, without a doubt, the cruelest moment I'd ever had. I hated myself for thinking it. And I hated myself even more for believing it was true.

  This was too much. Too intense. I needed an out.

  "Mullins is here!"

  "There is a god!"

  I looked up to see Tanner, still dressed in full lacrosse garb, stomping across the floor. He was covered in mud and carrying a trophy easily half his size.