The Big Book of Science Fiction

by The Big Book of Science Fiction (retail) (epub)

  She sits spread-eagled before the mirror and with careful pencil strokes draws thin wavy lines between her legs.

  —

  Ninotska’s Mum and Dad are away somewhere for the evening. In addition to Ninotska and Annette, Veronika and Janika and Evita and Carmen and Vanessa are all naturally at the pajama party. The sleepover boasts buckets of pizza-flavored popcorn and big bottles of high-energy soda, so we can last through the night, squeals Ninotska.

  Once Ninotska has opened her presents everybody gets ready for the fashion show. Back home Annette thought her nightie was fantastic, but now it looks like an old woman’s shirt. It’s too long, reaching almost to the knees, and totally unrevealing. Everybody agrees that Evita’s nightie is the best. It’s slightly see-through, like violet-blue mist, and it’s so short it barely covers her ass. Ninotska’s is nice, too, with wide frilly shoulder straps and loose laces on the front so it’s open almost all the way down, and it’s made of red silk. But because it’s her party Ninotska decides to be generous and votes for Evita’s nightie.

  Around ten o’clock everybody gets all excited and snickery when Ninotska takes a stepladder and goes into her mum and dad’s room and comes back cradling a stack of DVDs. Let’s watch a film. The girls sort through the pile. Each DVD has naked men and women on the cover, sharing the space with titles like Hot Pussies and Grand Slam Gang Bang. All the girls start giggling, hiding their mouths with their hands, and Ninotska puts a DVD in the player.

  The pounding music and the script with its endless shouts of Give it to me, baby and Meats to the sweet are all very monotonous, but they still stare at the screen—nobody dares not watch. Annette feels twitchy and uncomfortable, and sometimes it’s like there’s a second little heart beating under her stomach, and that makes her uncomfortable, too. She knows you’re supposed to stay the distance with this stuff, and you’re also supposed to pretend it doesn’t bother you in the slightest, the way boys watch slasher movies—if you let on you’re scared, everybody laughs and takes the piss. Even though the whole point of horror flicks is to upset you, and that’s why they get made in the first place, you’re still not allowed to be scared. And so they have to watch these grand slam hot pussies as if it didn’t mean anything.

  —

  Once the second flick is halfway over, and two black dudes are simultaneously pumping a woman with gigantic boobs, Ninotska gives a loud yawn, and this is a sign that the guests are no longer expected to be interested in the film. She switches the machine off, slipcases the disc, and drops it on the stack.

  Who wants to check out my mum and dad’s room? she asks, and everybody wants to, of course. The girls jostle behind Ninotska and make their way into a lovely bedroom with an enormous four-poster and a gold-framed mirror on the wall. Ninotska climbs the stepladder to the top shelf of the closet. She returns the stack of DVDs, then takes down a big cardboard box and jumps back onto the rug. She opens the box and spreads the contents across the bed. Red-and-black underwear that’s nothing but a belt with bits of fabric on the sides: in the middle they’re completely open. A pair of manacles with fur on the cuffs. Ninotska grabs a pinkish zucchini and gives the end a twist, and the thing starts shaking in her hand. Brrrrr! she says, trying to imitate the noise of the zucchini, then waves it in each girl’s face, and they all move away giggling hysterically.

  Has anybody ever tried one of these? she asks slowly, challenging them, and Annette feels like Ninotska is looking straight at her.

  I’ll bet none of you would dare. Ninotska glances across the group of girls. Somebody attempts a giggle, and then they all fall silent.

  I dare you. I dare you.

  The silence rings in Annette’s ears, her mouth is dry with anticipation, and she feels that any second now Ninotska’s eyes will stop at her.

  —

  Lulu’s chewing gum and trying to look mega, but every now and then she gives a quick laugh, her straightened, whitened teeth flashing between her dark red lips while the tabloid photographer takes her picture, over and over. Occasionally the female reporter glances at the LED screen to see how the photos are coming out. Annette is sulking in the den. She can look into the living room, but the people from the newspaper can’t see her, and she would refuse to be photographed next to Lulu even if they begged her.

  In any case, they haven’t asked.

  So tell me, how does it feel being the new face of Sexy Secrets Underwear? the reporter asks.

  Lulu lowers her false eyelashes, so overlong they almost reach her boobs, and smiles. Annette knows that Lulu uses this posture so she’ll have time to think without seeming like a dork. Finally Lulu looks up.

  Okay.

  People say you’re about to become the object of a national fantasy. Do you agree?

  The eyelashes tilt down, then rise again. I guess.

  The reporter smiles and switches off her digital recorder. Thanks, Lulu. That’ll be all.

  Annette simply has to walk out of the den before the tabloid people leave. She’s got her makeup on, and she’s wearing her shiny black dress—plus of course her high-heeled ankle boots, even though Mumps has told her not to use them on the parquet.

  Well, lookee here, the photographer says, squinting at Annette, there’s another stunning woman on the premises, and he almost sounds sincere, but she can’t be sure.

  That’s my little sister, Lulu says before blowing a bubble gum bubble. She’s eight.

  Annette could kill Lulu. Annette thinks she looks at least ten-yo, but by now the tabloid people are already in the hall, telling Lulu the article will run on Friday.

  —

  Naturally Mumps has bought three copies of Friday’s paper. On the front page of the fashion section is a picture of Lulu, her head thrown back, a gush of curls cascading down her shoulders, her teeth showing between pouty lips and her eyes half shut. Model Sensation Lulu: I Love Being the Star of Guys’ Wet Dreams! screams the headline.

  Lippe from the next apartment has come over to share a glass of wine with Mum. Lippe admires Lulu’s picture, and then they gab about the contract. Though Mum whispers, Annette, sitting in front of the TV, can still hear her. With her hand to her lips, Mum says, A hundred and twenty thousand euros. At least they’ll get back all the money they sank into Lulu’s career, Annette thinks. A year ago Lulu took some modeling courses that cost ultrabucks, but thanks to that move a fancy agent saw Lulu at the graduation show and signed her up on the spot. Lulu doesn’t go to regular school anymore; she’s supposed to be studying with a private tutor and taking the odd exam, but Annette hasn’t noticed much evidence of this. There have been no reported sightings of Lulu reading a schoolbook.

  Annette once applied to the modeling school, but you have to get through the preliminary round. They looked at her for about half a second and didn’t bother asking her any questions. A month later a letter came saying that she didn’t have sufficient camera presence.

  Mum explains to Lippe that originally another girl had been tapped for the Sexy Secrets campaign, a seventeen-year-old from Turku called Ramona who’d already done a lot of modeling and was a runner-up for Miss Finland.

  Hasn’t her face been used to death? asks Lippe.

  She’s well past her prime, Mum says, nodding, so Lulu got the contract.

  The door rattles, and Dad comes in with Otso. Otso’s cheeks are red, and he’s wearing a smart jacket, a white shirt, and a bow tie. He’s been on another date with Pamela: Dad took them to a film or something. Both Mum and Dad prattle about what a handsome little boy they have. Otso runs into Mum’s arms shouting, Guess what! Guess what! Me and Pamela got engaged! which of course starts off such a wave of fawning and gushing that Annette feels like throwing up.

  —

  Annette is on the school bus. The journey is less than a kilometer, only a few blocks, but the law states that all school-aged children must ride to school in their parents’ cars or on a supervised bus. For the protection of our children, ran the ads a few years ago when t
he law went into effect. Annette is standing in the aisle, but her new platform shoes cause her feet to slide down toward the point, and she keeps losing her balance. Once the bus stops at the traffic light she raises her eyes, and the view out the window hits her like a punch in the face.

  From a gigantic roadside billboard Lulu stares back at her, ten times larger than normal, her eyes dark, her lips shining cherry red, a wind machine billowing her hair.

  —

  When Annette finally gets off the bus, as if to further taunt her, another billboard appears, a startling three-panel display this time, looming near the school gates. And of course the star is Lulu, modeling three different lines of underwear—Naughty Red, Sinful Black, and Seductive Green, according to the words.

  Each image bears the same caption: Baby Doll.

  Trussed in a bright red string, Lulu’s ass practically bursts from the first panel; with half-closed eyes she twists her head toward the camera, brushing her hands against her bare shoulders so that her false nails, painted the same color as her panties, gleam against her skin like drops of blood.

  Then comes Lulu crouching, shiny black-laced boots matching her underwear, holding a ridiculous toy snake and making like she’s kissing the thing, its orange velveteen head sliding between her lips.

  And finally there’s a shot of Lulu from the side, hugging a beige teddy bear. Her back is arched, and her boobs, wrapped in jade-green lace, thrust defiantly upward.

  Lulu’s priceless tits.

  —

  But a few days later a miracle occurs.

  Annette arrives on the playground for recess, and instantly her stomach starts tightening, her chest pounding, just like every other time she has to walk past the gangs of boys. She hunches her shoulders, lowers her head, and wonders where the mockery will come from today, the cries of slut and dwarf-butt, and of course the comments about her tits—bee-stings, milkduds.

  One gang mutters something indistinct, but Annette manages to reach the pavilion without her face blushing bright red. All of a sudden he’s standing right next to her. His name’s Timppa, she knows that. He’s two years ahead of her and plays ice hockey with the F Juniors, and many times she’s heard Ninotska and Veronika whispering that Timppa is absolutely shagtastic. He’s still standing right next to her, looking at her, and Annette is so startled she almost runs away for fear of yet another insult, but Timppa gives her a friendly smile and doesn’t look a bit like all he wants to do is shove his hand down her top.

  You’re Annette, right? he asks. Annette is so taken aback that all she can manage is a nod. She’s utterly speechless. Timppa must think she’s a total dork because she doesn’t know how to respond with something quick and sassy the way Ninotska and Veronika always do when boys talk to them. But Timppa doesn’t seem to care; he looks Annette up and down, and his eyes stop at the sight of her platform shoes.

  Awesome boots.

  Thanks, Annette stammers as Timppa reaches into his leather jacket and produces a packet of SuperKiss, which he holds out to Annette. Gum?

  Annette takes one, fumbles off the wrapper, and pops the stick in her mouth just as the bell rings, saving her. Timppa backs away, smirks, and waves at her. Catch you later, Annette.

  Annette stands there and forgets to chew her gum, her mouth half open. Her heart is about to burst out of her chest.

  —

  During the next lesson Annette writes Timppa Timppa Timppa on her arm with a sharp pencil, scratching so hard the skin almost breaks.

  —

  Ninotska and Veronika have of course noticed that Annette was talking to Timppa during recess, and they’ll be sure to catch up with her at their first opportunity, instead of Annette nonchalantly trying to hang around their gang.

  Well, well, our little Annette’s got a boyfriend, Ninotska says, her eyes burning, and for the first time Annette feels like she’s somebody, not just that girl whose mum and dad brought her a Stick That Dick pencil box from London; suddenly there’s something a little bit glam about Annette.

  He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just…friends.

  Then it must be the first time ever that Timppa Kujala is just friends with a girl.

  Veronika gives a hollow chortle. He’s the horniest stud in the school.

  Careful you don’t get burned, Annette, darling.

  Ninotska and Veronika shuffle off, their curls gushing, their little bottoms bouncing contemptuously, and Annette looks at them and says under her breath, They’re just jealous.

  And with that a great warmth fills her.

  —

  Timppa is loitering near the gates when Annette leaves school. He asks her where she’s off to, and when she says she’s going home he says he’s headed the same way and suggests they walk together, fuck the bus law. Timppa spits on the ground and says the whole rule is a load of crapola; he walks to school whenever he wants to. Annette wants to sound mega and says she thinks it’s a dumb-ass rule, too, and for some reason she feels safe walking with Timppa.

  Annette sees that Veronika notices her leaving with Timppa, and her sense of triumph is so great she’s able to chat almost normally with Timppa, even though the silences are long, and she ends up asking him the same questions over and over; but he doesn’t seem to mind, and he talks practically the whole way home about which hockey players he admires the most, the ones that have the fastest cars and the juiciest babes with the hottest knockers.

  When they arrive at Annette’s building, Timppa shuffles awkwardly for a moment and stares at the ground. Can I come in for a bit?

  Annette is about to faint. Even though Ninotska and Veronika have kissed lots of boys at parties, and while Carmen spent a whole semester walking around hand-in-hand with Pasi, nobody has ever had a boyfriend who wanted to visit. It could mean almost anything. Annette can hardly breathe.

  Sure, come on in.

  They enter the elevator, and Annette presses the button for the sixth floor. Inside the car they don’t say a word, and for Annette this is quite a relief. Finally they arrive; she opens her apartment door, shows Timppa in, and gives him a hanger for his leather jacket. This time she doesn’t drop her bag on the floor but carries it down the hall past the living room and the den, Timppa at her heels, then stops outside her bedroom door, on which there’s a large Stick That Dick poster and a piece of cardboard with thick red lettering: Annettez Room Private No Entry!

  Annette steps toward Timppa so she’s almost right up against him. Want to see my room?

  Timppa doesn’t appear to be listening, he’s inspecting the other doors in the vicinity. One features a full-color poster of the world’s most glamorous supermodel, Marinette Mankiewicz. Her moist skin sparkles with hundreds of little pearly beads for a major wetness effect; her bikini looks wet, too, clamped tight against her tits and almost see-through. Lulu once told Annette it’s all done with oil instead of water, because oil is shinier and doesn’t dry out under the studio lights.

  Is that your sister’s room?

  Lulu’s? I guess.

  When’s she coming home?

  At first Annette doesn’t understand, but then it strikes her, and her stomach feels like it’s about to spill out around her heels, and her head starts to spin.

  Around four o’clock, she mutters almost inaudibly.

  I can hang out and wait, huh? Timppa asks, his eyes fixed on Marinette Mankiewicz, and Annette realizes that Lulu and the photographer have ripped off the idea behind this poster for their three-panel billboard—the Seductive Green Lulu with her tits pointing skyward.

  Make yourself at home, she says, and goes into her room, and only vast amounts of self-control prevent her from slamming the door shut much louder than normal.

  —

  After that Timppa visits almost every day. He comes around at the same time as Lulu and often doesn’t leave till late at night, after Mumps and Dumps have stood next to the Marinette Mankiewicz poster coughing or clearing their throats or knocking on the door, and Mumps says, pret
ending to be all thoughtful and considerate, Right, I think it’s time for our Lulu’s beauty sleep!

  Ninotska and Veronika have been giggling to themselves and tossing their curls around and whispering so much that Annette can feel it in her stomach. They ask her, real smarmy, How’s your boyfriend doing nowadays? then burst into a hyperly loud chortle as if the joke gets funnier every time. At first Annette can’t understand how exactly Ninotska and Veronika learned that Timppa and Lulu have been hanging together, but it all becomes clear during morning recess when she’s walking behind a group of boys who haven’t noticed her, and she overhears one of them chattering about what a hottie Timppa has pulled; he then describes Lulu at great length and brags that Timppa’s on the verge of scoring. Timppa, naturally, has told the entire school.

  Annette runs straight to the girls’ toilet and throws up, filling the bowl with globules of meat and potatoes. The ketchup makes it look like she’s been vomiting blood, and she decides that vomiting blood probably feels like this. A moment later, her puke-tears having dried, she feels slightly dizzy, but her thoughts are surprisingly clear.

  As she leaves the stall, she bumps into Nana, one of the girls in her year, loitering by the sinks. She must have heard Annette barfing. Nana gives her a conspiratorial smile.

  Have you just started?

  Annette doesn’t understand. Nana pulls a bottle of Evian from her schoolbag and hands it to her. If you want to stay fit while you’re on the program, remember to drink enough water. Don’t let yourself dry out. No calories in water, you see.

  Annette gulps down a mouthful of Evian and mumbles her thanks. Nana slips the bottle back in her bag. One good tip: get yourself some xylitol chewing gum and use it after you’ve barfed. That way the stomach acids won’t take the shine off your teeth.

  Annette nods. Nana slings her bag across her shoulder and looks Annette up and down. Yeah, you could do with losing a few kilos. Nana moves toward the door, her little ass snugged tightly in her jeans. Good luck.