Teen Angel (9 page)

My breasts are pimples
. Sonny shook her head.

“It must be all the pressure there. I just can’t stand it.” She
paused until she popped it. “Me and Miguel? God, he’s so sweet. You’d never believe it. He acts like such a jerk-off with Ruben and Steve. But at night, he sometimes calls up here from the courtyard, yelling at the top of his lungs. I open the window and there he is, drooling like a cocker spaniel.”

“How long have you two been going steady?”

“Since September. I have his I.D. bracelet and his tie clip, but I can’t wear it too often. He’s afraid his mother will see it and she’ll have a fit because it’s sterling silver. You wanna see it?” D.B. opened a drawer in the desk and took out something wrapped in layers of toilet paper. It was filigreed and the initials MR were embossed on the edge.

“What’s his last name?”

“Rivera. Miguel Rivera,” D.B. said proudly.

“Does your mother know about him?”

“Ruth just told me to be careful. Said I should have a good time but be smart, if you know what I mean.”

“She doesn’t mind he’s a spic? No offense.”

“As long as I don’t marry him and she doesn’t have little spic brats running around, she doesn’t give a damn. What about you and Ruben?”

“Can I ask you something?” Sonny said. “And I want you to be completely, totally honest with me? All right?”

“Shoot.”

“No, I mean absolutely totally honest. Do you promise?”

“WHAT?”

“Do you think Ruben likes me?”

“The way he looks at you,” D.B. said authoritatively, “is strictly from hunger. He’s crazy about you.”

“No, for my personality. Do you think he
likes
me?”

“Well, it ain’t for your tits, honey,” D.B. said, squeezing a blackhead. “That’s for sure!”

“Well, you don’t have to put it like that,” Sonny said. “But what about the Gooch?”

“He just uses her. She gives him blowjobs.”

“How do you know?” Sonny gasped.

“Miguel told me that Ruben told him.”

“Do you know what happens when you cross the Gooch with an elephant?”

“What?”

“You get a two-ton whore who works for peanuts!”

“Sonny,” D.B. said impatiently, “this is serious. Ruben thinks you’re real foxy. If you don’t believe me, don’t ask.”

Sonny paused and then said, “So you and Miguel french a lot?”

“Yeah,” D.B. said, licking her lips. “All the time.”

“And you
really
like it?”

“Sure.” D.B. stared wide-eyed at Sonny. “You don’t?”

“I guess I don’t really see the point. It felt gross with Ruben moving his tongue around like that in my mouth.”

D.B. groaned. “Sonny, you are d-e-n-s-e. Frenching is symbolic.”

“Now you sound like some English teacher.”

“Dumb, dumb.” D.B. shook her head. “You haven’t been around much, right? Even though you talk like you have. I knew it the first time I saw you, but I figured you had potential. Anyway, that’s not a tragedy. You can learn. Now listen carefully to me. When Ruben moved his tongue in and out of your mouth, did that remind you of anything?”

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

A globule of white pus landed on Sonny’s arm. “Sorry,” D.B. said. Sonny wiped it with her sleeve. “Anyway, it’s symbolic for going all the way. Get it? His tongue is symbolic for his penis entering your vagina and swishing around in there.”

“God!” Sonny cried out, shocked. “I had no idea. It’s a good thing I found out. How do you know all these things, anyway? I can see what you mean but, seriously, it would never occur to me in a zillion years. I was wondering what the big deal was … By the way, have you and Miguel ever done it?”

“Done what?”

“You know … Gone all the way?” Sonny asked cautiously. D.B. wanted to know everything about you but never said anything about herself. “I mean, I just wanted to know, just in case, with Ruben …”

D.B. clammed up. “That’s private.”

“But I thought we were good friends.”

“That doesn’t mean you tell everything. You got to keep certain things to yourself. Especially things like that,” D.B. said, looking up from her breasts. “You know what I mean?”

“Do you ever tell anyone about the things we talk about?”

“Never.”

“How come Mary knew what I told you about the Gooch?”

“That’s different. It wasn’t about you.”

“Yeah, well, Mary told Hansy, and it got back to the Gooch. You know, she can’t stand my guts anyway.”

“That hooknosed guinea can’t stand anyone’s guts. Don’t worry.”

“But how come she’s always putting me down? I keep trying to be nice to her.”

“Because she’s probably jealous.”

“Of me?” Sonny asked, amazed. “Why?”

“Cause you’re not as ugly as she is.”

“Thanks a lot, pal.”

The doorbell rang. D.B. and Sonny peeked down the hallway. Ruth was talking to the delivery boy who brought the groceries into the kitchen. He had George Washington High School written on the back of his jacket. “Why does she have to go around undressed like that?” D.B. slammed the bedroom door loudly. “Hey, do you wanna sleep over tonight? Then we can to Crystal’s together tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes,” Sonny said. Then she thought of her mother and how if she called again, she’d say no and there would be a big fight over the telephone. “I really would … But my mother is real
suspicious. She doesn’t like me to hang out anyway. And if she knew about tomorrow, she’d lock me in the house.” She paused and then said, “I’m going. To hell with it. And I’m not calling her.”

“Good. We’ll have a real boss time,” D.B. said, smiling. “You know, I let Miguel feel me up at the last party.”

“North or south?”

“North, of course. But east and west. Both breasts, through my blouse. He went crazy and kept saying how beautiful I was.”

“Wow. Did he unhook your bra?”

“He tried to, but I wouldn’t let him. You got to keep them in suspense, like a good movie. You don’t give them the ending until they’ve paid their money and stuck around for the double feature and the coming attractions and the cartoons too. Remember that, Sonny.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wear a bra,” Sonny said unhappily. “What should I do if Ruben wants to. Feeling up an undershirt … he might as well do that to my little brother.”

“You got a little something there. It’s true it’s not a whole lot. But it’s something …”

“Did you hear about the colored guy who rushes into the bathroom? He pulls his thing out and starts peeing, saying, ‘God, I made it!’ Well, this white guy who’s standing at the next urinal looks down at him and says, ‘Could you make one like that for me too? Same dimensions, just a little bit lighter?’”

“You and your dumb jokes. This is serious. Why don’t you get yourself a bra?”

“I brought it up with my mother once and she almost had a shit fit. ‘My baby!’ she yelled, running around the house. ‘In such a rush to be a grown woman. Wait a couple years. It won’t kill you. What are you going to put in a brassiere anyway? Your
tuchos
?’ That’s Yiddish for ass. So I didn’t bring it up to her again.”

“Maybe we have something around here you can wear.” D.B.
began going through drawers, throwing underpants, garter belts, slips, and bras on the floor.

“Sure, I can wear one of your bras …” Sonny mumbled. “Like Mickey Mouse can wear Walt Disney’s underwear.”

“Wha’d ya say?” D.B. poked her head out of the dresser.

“Nothing.”

“I know it’s here somewhere. It was my sister’s, and then I started out with it for a while.”

“Does it have training wheels?” Sonny said sarcastically.

“I think I found it. Yes, here it is. What do you think?”

It was more beautiful than Sonny could bear. She shivered as she touched the sensuous black lace, fingering the tiny petals of satin sewn on the cups.
I think I’m going to faint
. This was it. She had finally been invited to the land of Maidenform, Carnival, Bali, Lady Marlene, where beautiful women dreamed of attending the opera, riding horses, going to the bullfight in only their bra. Sonny’s eyes shone. “Do you really think it would fit me?”

‘Try it on.”

“All right,” Sonny said. But suddenly she felt a burning wave of shyness come over her. She held the bra close to her.

“Well, let’s see,” D.B. said, as if it were the world’s most casual thing to do, trying on your first bra in front of somebody.

“Okay.” Sonny turned around and began to unbutton her shirt.

“What are you, modest?”

“Kind of,” Sonny said, slipping off her blouse. Then she took off her undershirt.
This will be the last time I’ll ever have to wear this ugly thing
. Her mother bought her undershirts in the boy’s department of Macy’s because it was cheaper. Maybe now she would have to start shopping for her in the teen department. Sonny bent forward as she had read in
How Your Body Changes During Puberty
. And now, by some process that was a combination of osmosis, religion, and magic, two spectacular pecs, just waiting in the wings, would drop into her bra.
Are you ready?
She slipped
one luxurious strap over her shoulder, then the other, her body goose-bumping from the feel of the smooth satin.

“Are you ready?” she asked D.B. She won’t recognize me. From the moment she hooked the back, she would be transformed after almost fifteen years as an ugly, crabby, awkward, repulsive, flat-chested flub-a-dub.
Okay now. 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 ½-1 ¼ I DESCEND!
She looked down at herself, expecting, praying, hoping to see the creamy fullness of breasts, cleavage, an honest-to-God bosom. What she saw was something that resembled a pair of flat tires. She was all bra and no breasts.

“We have to think of something,” D.B. said. “You’ve barely got a teaspoon all around and those are pint jugs. But don’t worry.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Sonny said, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to D.B. “Pathetic.”

“I hate to say it, buddy, but maybe you should wait awhile.”

“Please don’t say that!” Sonny cried out. “Not like my mother!”

“I got it!” D.B. said. Sonny thought she meant another pimple, but D.B. rushed out of the bedroom and returned with a handful of colored scarves. “Here. Just stuff a few of these in your bra. No one will know the difference.”

“Yeah, but what happens if Ruben wants a feel? He’ll stick his hand down my shirt and come up with a bunch of scarves. Like Houdini. It’s hopeless,” Sonny said, sadly unhooking the bra.

“Sonny,” D.B. said with the authority of experience and big tits, “by the time you and Ruben get to that point, you’ll probably have grown into it. For the time being, it’s look, no touch. You understand? No handling the merchandise. And when you’re ready to give him some skin, you’ll have something. Believe me.”

“Yeah? But in the meantime, the Gooch is covering every position in the book.”

“Retard, she’s a tramp. She’ll do it with anyone.”

Sonny hooked the bra again and stuffed two scarves into each
cup. When she was finished, she had to admit that it looked like the real thing. She had two pointy submarine heads! “A sort of lay-away plan, huh?”

“Sometimes the wrapping is as important as the gift. Don’t ever forget that.”

“When did you get your period, D.B.?”

“When I was eleven. I didn’t even know what it was. I mean, I had heard about it, but I always thought the blood would be red, like blood.”

“What color was it?” Sonny asked, panic-stricken.
Chartreuse?

“Brownish. Like shit. At first, I thought I had taken a crap in my underwear.”

“Yeah?” Sonny said, entranced.

“Yeah. So Ruth took one look at it and slapped me on the behind, saying, ‘You’re a woman. Good luck. You’ll need it, God help you.’”

“DIN-NAH!” Ruth screamed from the kitchen. “Come and get it!”

“HOLD YOUR HORSES!” D.B. shouted back. Then turning to Sonny, she said, “It’s not as if she’s been slaving in the kitchen all day.”

Sonny took the scarves out of the bra. Once again, she was as sexy as the closet door, the ground, a little kid. She slipped the black satin straps off her shoulders.

“You can wear it if you want to …” D.B. said.

Sonny shook her head. No, she couldn’t. It wasn’t right. With her back to D.B., she slipped her undershirt over her head and buttoned her blouse.

“DIN-NAH!” Ruth screamed again.

“OKAY, ALREADY! WE HEARD YOU!” D.B. shouted.

There were more
things
in the kitchen. A dark wood African mask hung on the wall next to a sampler that said: BLESS OUR
HOME. Burgundy brocade curtains, attached by several safety pins to a rod, covered the window and a real harpoon was slung over the doorway. Ruth had set the table with bamboo mats, three large paper plates, and silverware that looked like it had been lifted from different restaurants. Out of the corner of her eye, Sonny saw cockroaches crawling on the burners of the stove.

“Dig right in, girls. You both must be pretty hungry from all that gabbing,” she said as she poured No-Cal into Sonny’s glass. “You two certainly can go on.”

“You have all these great,” Sonny paused, searching for a good way to put it, “er–antiques here–”

“They’re props, dear. When you’re in the theater, you pick up some things along the way,” she said. “Some potato salad?”

Sonny nodded, helping herself to a slice of turkey roll. She tried not to look in the direction of the stove.

“I still work sometimes, you know. Did you see
Blue Denim
with Carol Lynley? I had a walk-on part in the playground scene.”

“Thank you,” Sonny said, taking a piece of ham. She used to not be allowed to eat it but now even her mother bought it. Bacon too. But she never cooked it when her father was home.

“Do you have any ketchup?” D.B. asked.

“If there’s any, it’s in the fridge. Anyway, I could have probably supported myself with theater, movie, and TV work. But they took the business out of the city and killed us. Then they complain about welfare. What are we supposed to do? New York used to be such a terrific place. I remember–”

“I don’t see any ketchup.”

“Darling, I guess we’re out of it. Anyway, so I had this club act with this midget, Gregory John. We called ourselves the Big Shots. But we weren’t having a thing, you know …”