by David Jester
‘The thing is,’ I began, looking away awkwardly, joining Christy in her search for the lens. ‘I like her; I like her quite a lot actually.’
Christy lifted her head, smiled at me and then lowered it again. ‘That’s nice,’ she said to the ground.
I pushed on, ‘Could you do me a favour?’
She glared at me. ‘I’m not looking for your bloody contact lens as well,’ she warned.
I shook my head. ‘No, I want you ask Katie out for me.’
‘You as well?’
‘Me as well--’ I paused, confused, surprised: ‘what do you mean “me as well?”’
Christy lifted her head again. ‘Well, she’s already got a boyfriend hasn’t she?’
‘Has she?’
My mind suddenly conjured up a show reel of Katie. Images of her flashed before me at hyper speed. Katie in class. Katie smiling. Katie laughing. Katie leaving school. Katie blowing me a kiss.
That last one hadn’t been real, but it was in there nevertheless.
I had never seen Kate with another boy, I had seen her in brief conversations with some, but nothing more than passing greetings. If she had a boyfriend she kept it well.
‘She’s with the little fat boy,’ Christy said with her simpleton smile.
I had definitely never seen Katie with a little fat boy, but now I could see nothing else.
‘“Little fat boy?”’ I asked.
Christy didn’t reply. Instead she turned around and pointed. I followed her outstretched arm; it led to the school gates.
I didn’t see what she was pointing at straight away, but then two shapes materialised. The wall at the opening of the gate jutted upwards like the rook on a chess board, two people were leaning against its stone face, locked in an embrace.
My heart sank when I realised that one of them was Katie. She was pushed up against the wall, her arms around the neck of the boy in front, her long hair in his grubby and unappreciative hands. Her lips were locked tightly onto his, exchanging tongues and saliva.
My body and heart sagged. The pleasantries on my face ebbed away as every facial muscle sagged. An instant feeling of loss and regret struck me, I felt terrible.
Then I realised who the lucky boy was and I felt even worse.
‘That’s Chris Peterson,’ I said.
‘Yeah,’ Christy said softly, looking admiringly at the kissing couple. ‘He asked her out earlier. She likes the bad boys. I don’t think she used to be that interested, but she saw him beat up some little gay-boy this morning and she fell for him.’ Christy turned back to me, my face now flushed with anger and embarrassment, she didn’t seem to notice. ‘Sweet huh?’
5
Teenage Dreams Part Two: Trinity
I expected something to happen when I turned thirteen. I wasn’t quite sure what, but something was surely going to happen.
It was a big age. It was the official ascent into adolescence. The day when I stopped being a boy and became, well, not quite a man but certainly something less boyish.
Part of me imagined that at sixteen a mystery man would show up with an ID card, a pack of cigarettes, a condom and a wink. Two years later, at eighteen, I thought the same man would bring along a crate of beer and a note that congratulated me on becoming an adult. At thirteen that man would have nothing to bring me -- pubic hair and acne had already been going strong for a year or two -- but I thought it would be decent of him to show up.
Nothing happened. At least not for me.
After a summer that ended far too early, I went back to school with all the apathy that the first day after summer usually brought. Then I saw Trinity Adams and that apathy disappeared.
She had also turned thirteen in the summer, but she had changed dramatically. Her breasts, previously only slightly noticeable under her shirt, were now huge. They bobbled around underneath her uniform when she walked and I found myself entranced by them.
When she smiled at me I nearly melted. I thought she was the most attractive girl I had ever seen; the truth was she was average at best.
The other boys in the class noticed her as well, and immediately swallowed their conversations as she entered. Their eyes turned to her, following her across the room, fixed on her bouncing breasts.
I turned to Olly who was also following her with his eyes. ‘Is it me or did she get very attractive over the summer?’ I asked.
‘Nah, she’s still ugly,’ he said confidently. ‘Great tits though.’
Chris Peterson had been sitting on a corner table with his arm around Katie, but when Trinity walked in he dropped his shoulder, shrugged Katie away and rushed to guide Trinity into her seat.
I knew that if I wanted to make Trinity my first girlfriend, which I did, then I would have to act quickly before she was also tainted by the hand of the chubby bully.
I waited until break-time to make my move. All around the playground I could see clusters of boys nudging each other, daring one another to go and talk to her.
‘Ask her for a suck,’ I heard one say as I shifted past.
‘I’d love to bounce on those babies.’
I watched her exchange a laugh and a smile with two girls. She didn’t seem aware of the stares, but her friends were and they studied the playground with cautious eyes.
I could feel my hart race as I closed in.
The two girls said something to Trinity and then moved away. It was amicable, they were all still smiling, but Trinity was alone now.
I coughed, cleared my throat, closed my eyes tightly, opened them again.
I tapped her on the shoulder and wore my best smile.
She turned, smiling. ‘Hey,’ she said pleasantly.
I had it all prepared. I had thought about what to say all morning and had rehearsed it a number of times.
I prepared to rush through it all, to get it all out there before Chris or anyone interrupted me and tried to steal her away.
‘Hey, Titty,’ I said with a smile. ‘I just--,’ I paused. The smile dripped slowly from my face.
Trinity. Trinity. I thought slowly. Please tell me I said Trinity.
She wasn’t smiling. She looked shocked.
Keep it going, move on, she might not notice.
I forged another smile and forced myself to continue. ‘I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me. To the cinema or something. I know tits not much--’
I did it again.
I gulped down a thick glob of saliva. Trinity had noticed the slips.
‘--It’s, sorry,’ I said, coughing into my hand, ‘I have a little--’ I waved a hand around my chest to indicate a cold. Then I looked at her breasts.
I was still waving at my chest and staring at her breasts when she cleared her throat exaggeratedly.
What am I doing!
Stop staring! Stop staring!
I pressed my hand to my chest and held it there with my other hand, as if restraining it from further stupidity. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, my face was flushed with embarrassment; hers was a red shade of annoyance. ‘I didn’t mean to. I don’t know what, I mean; I’m not even like that. I’m a good guy, I don’t even like, I mean they’re lovely an’ all, if not a little big--’
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I didn’t want to look at her face, I knew she was angry at me, but that left only one option. My eyes fell to her breasts.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, speaking slowly and staring at her chest as if it was the last chance I’d have to see it. ‘I--i--i--’ I paused, shrugged and turned around. ‘I’ll see you later,’ I walked sullenly back across the playground. A few boys looked my way, wondering if I had succeeded in asking her out or copping a feel.
I sulked back to my friends. Meeting none of them in the eye, staring at my shoes with a melancholic smudge across my face.
“I made an idiot outta myself,” I muttered softly.
Olly put a heavy hand on my shoulder and squeezed. ‘Don’t worry mate,’ he said leaning over so that his mouth spoke directly in
to my sunken ears. ‘There’ll be plenty of tits to go around soon enough. This is the golden age for us; this is when things start to get interesting.’ He grabbed my chin and lifted it up, forcing me to look out over the expansive playground. ‘You see all of these ugly bitches,’ he said, wiping his free hand across the landscape, ‘all of them will be fuckable soon enough. The world is our oyster mate, so stop sulking and eat up.’
For a thirteen year old virgin who couldn’t talk to a woman without annoying her, Olly seemed to know what he was talking about. I didn’t believe him at first but then I began to notice all the other girls in the same way I had noticed Trinity. None were as well endowed, but many were prettier.
6
Teenage Dreams Part Three: Penny
There were a few girls on my radar in the final year of middle school, but all were minor crushes, none kept me awake at night.
There was Andrea in the year below: Blonde hair, blue eyes, golden tan. She had a strong accent and giggled loudly after every sentence. When I first heard her I thought she was putting on a voice for comical effect, I even laughed along with her to show her that her impression of an annoying idiot was amusing, but the voice never went away. I decided to enjoy her from afar instead, putting enough distance between us so that I could at least pretend she didn’t sound like an anguished feline.
Cherry was in Andrea’s class. She was shy and somewhat timid but she had a smile that could soften the hearts of murderers. Unfortunately it was hard to get her to speak. She greeted everything with a shy shrug and often turned away when people spoke to her.
Ali was new to the school. She wore a burka, with only her dark eyes, like shiny black holes, on show. I think I liked her because she was different; because she was the same age and, unlike the others, I hadn’t known her since nursery. And also because she reminded me of a ninja, and I loved ninjas.
Kelly and Penny were two girls I had known since nursery. They were fairly uninteresting throughout primary school but began to blossom aged twelve. At thirteen they were full-figured adults, at least in my eyes.
I never asked out any of the girls I liked, shying away for fear of a repeat of the Katie or Trinity incident. I rated them regardless and found Kelly usually came out on top, with Penny hovering in second.
That all changed one summer, and it began with the boy who had cost me my first crush at the school.
Chris Peterson had maintained his role as the school bully over the course of the first year and into the second. Katie had broken up with him after a few short weeks and had since worked her way through the male population of the nearby high school, but he had wormed his way into the arms of other girls desperate for macho boys.
After Katie, Chris had dated Gail Clemens. He had been her first boyfriend, but just a week later she dumped him and began to date a sixteen year old high school dropout. Then came Patty, who picked Chris up at the end of the year, was with him for a day and then immediately jumped up to dumb high school boys.
Olly called Chris a gateway idiot, but never to his face. I related this joke onto another kid, and then another, keen to spread the insult around the school. I had been telling a third when Chris overheard.
I had finished class early and was killing time near the gym, just outside the changing rooms. Chris came in from outside with a menacing glare on his chubby face. He had seen; he had heard. I was doomed.
He bounded straight for me, his eyebrows lowered, his nose flaring like an angry bull. I knew there was no point running; he would catch up to me eventually.
I took a step back, my hands raised defensively. ‘It’s not what you think,’ I told him.
He grabbed me by the throat and shoved me against the door. My spine and skull clattered against the wood, bright blue stars danced in the corners of my eyes.
‘Then what the fuck is it!’ he demanded.
I mumbled something back, still a little dazed.
“What?” he spat.
“Depends,” I said, coughing the word out. ‘Depends on what you heard,’ I tried to smile, he didn’t seem impressed.
‘What the fuck did you say?’ he spat every syllable, the corners of his mouth frothing.
I was thinking the same thing, struggling to believe that I had just tried to be smart to a kid who could crush me and currently had a hand on my throat.
‘Nothing,’ I replied with a strained voice.
I tried to softly pry his hand from my throat, not wanting to apply too much exertion and indicate a desire to fight back, but keen for him to know I didn’t want it there.
‘I fucking heard you.’
‘Then why’d you ask?’
I felt those words coming out of my mouth but I didn’t react quickly enough to stop them. I began to wonder if I was concussed, or possibly brain damaged. If not, there was a good chance I would be soon.
I saw his eyes widen. I would have gulped if his hand wasn’t making it impossible.
‘What’d you just say?’
‘Something very very stupid.’
‘You bet it was stupid,’ he said slowly.
I could feel my face darkening through lack of oxygen, could sense my life ebbing away. It occurred to me that I was going to die pinned up against the girls changing room by a fat idiot.
I gripped his hand with more pressure and managed to pry away his little finger.
‘What are you doing?’ he said, staring at my busy hands in bemusement.
I had worked the nib of a forefinger away. ‘Trying to save my life,’ I replied without looking up. The little finger clasped back when the forefinger lifted. ‘Shit,’ I gurgled.
He let go.
I breathed deeply.
He punched me in the stomach before the breath had time to complete.
I coiled up instantly, my head near his groin. I thought of head-butting him like a ram, but quickly let that thought slip. If I didn’t kill or cripple him he was just going to hit me back harder.
I expected more punches. I only hoped that he would at least have the decency to drag me outside and let me enjoy the sunshine whilst he beat the shit out of me.
Instead he laughed, opened the door behind me, and shoved me backwards.
I toppled into the girls’ changing rooms and hit the floor with a thud, quickly assuming the foetal position.
Chris disappeared in a fit of hysterics. He expected me to be caught, called a pervert and shamed by a room of girls, but no one had heard; no one had seen. The door faced a walled partition which housed a number of empty footlockers and aspirational posters. The main changing room was around a corner a few feet from my head, beyond that a raised partition led to a line of showers, the noise from which had helped drowned out the crashing door.
I crawled on the slippery floor and climbed to my feet. I checked the doorway to make sure Chris had gone, sighed with relief when I saw he had, and then straightened up my tie and collar which had tightened against my throat.
I stopped with my hand on my top button. I sensed movement out of the corner of my eye. My heart froze, my skin prickled with goose bumps. I thought someone was sneaking up on my peripheral, someone about to expose me.
My heart kicked into gear with a bang, beating faster than it had ever beaten before. Then it relaxed. Softened. The movement had come from a mirror, ahead and to my left, directly opposite the changing area.
In the tall, slightly smeared glass, I could see waves of pink flesh shuffling around amongst the lockers, benches and clothes pegs.
Instantly I felt a reaction in my pants. One very common for a thirteen year old but not acceptable in school. I ignored it. I didn’t care. I was entranced.
In the steaming glass I saw the waddling bodies and pristine flesh of an army of girls as they conversed, laughed, giggled and dressed in the misty changing room.
A small voice at the back of my mind was screaming at me to turn around and leave, the consequences of being caught were too big. That voice was drowned out by a million scream
s telling me to stay, fuck the consequences.
I saw classmates like I had never seen them before -- all fleshy and bouncy -- as they walked to and fro, clueless to my voyeurism. I saw Kelly striding around in her underwear and Katie standing topless, her lower half obscured by an unfortunately placed bag.
The one that caught my attention the most was Penny, she was standing near her peg, rifling through a small sports bag. She was completely naked.
In that instant, standing next to my number one, Penny -- my former number 2 -- went straight to the top of my list. To my young, inexperienced eyes, everything about her was perfect, and she was naked, which was always a bonus.
I watched Penny dress without blinking. Growing impatient when other girls, some naked, crossed her path and the steamed mirror’s line of reflection. When she was fully dressed and waiting for the teacher to give her permission to leave, I ducked out of the changing room, into the hallway.
I was happy to have escaped without being seen. I had a beaming smile on my face and an erotic image burned into my mind. I had never seen a girl naked. I had caught a few glimpses of topless girls in magazines and in films, but nothing else. I was delighted to get that part of my growing-up out of the way and ecstatic that it had happened without incident.
I was still smiling when the screaming began.
The girls had flooded out of the changing room. Some dispersed down the corridor to their next lesson, others loitered.
I was watching them file out one by one, thinking, “I've seen you naked, and you, and you,” as they emptied the changing room. A bespectacled, pale girl named Elly was the first to look at me, the first to point; the first to scream.
They all started after that, Elly was the only one screaming but they were all pointing at me, and most of them were laughing. I followed their taunting fingers, but before my eyes lowered that far I realised what they were pointing at.
My top was still riled up. My shirt was twisted and wrapped around my midsection. After skidding across the floor my trousers had also been pulled up by the waistband, which in turn had lowered the zip. And there, taking advantage of the gap in the top of the zip, bursting through like a new-born into the world, was an underpants-shaped bulge.
