Amy 8: Summer Is Ready When You Are... free porn video

Amy 8: Summer Is Ready When You Are... by Amy Komori The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2010 Amy Komori. All rights reserved. Chapter One: A Healthy Amy is a Happy Amy I don't know what my problem was, but I woke up that day in the best mood. I totally fucking babbled eating Lucky Charms, hummed and sang taking a shower and drying my hair, even while I brushed my teeth, looking wide-eyed at my dopey girl face in the mirror, practicing silly expressions until Emily came in and yelled at me for hogging the bathroom. But even that was amusing and I laughed at her as I scurried away back to my room and she slammed the bathroom door, still grumbling, her eyes barely open. "Oh, Amy, if you'd like to invite someone to go with us, feel free," Mrs. Komori said as I suited up for a summer day down at the skatepark. "Oh!" I chirped. She'd scared the shit out of me appearing suddenly at my bedroom door. No warning, no knock or anything. "Um... okay, thanks." We were planning another beach trip, my second in a girl body. Mrs. Komori had rented a condo at Saint Francis Beach down on the Florida Gulf coast. Maybe because the last one had been so successful, Mrs. Komori was determined to make this an annual event, a chance for the three of us to bond now that we were stuck with each other. Really, I was convinced Mrs. Komori was much too kind to me. While I pulled my skates and armor out of the closet, I thought, Fuck yeah, Sarah would love to come with us. She was so shy she barely knew anyone at school and was just spending her summer at home writing songs or tagging along with me whenever I went places she was interested in, like the music stores downtown. The idea of helping her have a little more summer magic by taking her to the shore with us made me feel warm inside. Yeah, it seemed like a better idea with every passing second. I decided I'd call her up after dinner and tell her the good news. The glow I already had from my bubbling spirits and Sarah-plan intensified as I thought about it, just riding along at Mrs. Komori's side as she drove me to the skatepark?she was skipping work that day because things were slow and she had so many errands to run. Wow, I thought, she is so becoming my mom! My heart felt like it had turned into like this huge ball of toasty energy. I couldn't keep the smile off my face, and I had to stare out the window at all the buildings and trees zipping by so Mrs. Komori wouldn't see my expression and think I was high or something. "Okay, Honey Bunny," Mrs. Komori said, using Emily's snarky pet name for me. She stopped the car. "You'll be all right?" "Yeah, I can walk back or roll or something," I told her. I got out quickly, without looking back, my smile just as broad and hurting my cheeks now, just totally loving life at that moment. Seriously, I was about to burst into joyful tears. That's how emotional I was. "See ya!" I chirped. "Mata ne," Mrs. Komori said. Mata ne? I made a mental note to ask what that meant later. I waited until I'd collected myself. There was no way I was going in front of all those asshole skaters and the few people I really liked and let them see me acting all wiggly. It actually took the longest time to put myself in the proper aggressive frame of mind so I'd be the Amy all the skaters knew and hated. Desperate at the last, I had to force myself to think about road-killed puppies until my joie de vivre dialed itself down to a more manageable, less noticeable one or two on the knob. Then I took the concrete steps from the sidewalk two at a time, the sound of wheels on wood and heavy thumps already in my ears. Deep breaths. Normal again. The skater punks. A big mix of guys and girls, mostly teenagers. Although I was right on the cusp of turning 13 (again), I was one of the younger kids there, actually. I could see my semi-friend Patrick at the top of the half-pipe, about to drop in. That fucking Mike was there, too, and Little Josh. They didn't mess with me anymore, but they'd gotten to where they'd sometimes speak. If they had to. For my part, they were the two kids I did my utmost not to antagonize. Now there were a few rollers mixed in with the woodpushers. Guys and girls, we bumped fists and said brilliant things like, "Whassup, dude?" and "Hey, man!" and I climbed past them onto the vert and plopped down on my butt with my feet dangling off the edge. His run finished, Patrick flew up over the coping, thumped as he landed, kicked up his board and sat down beside me, hips touching mine. "'Sup, Ayumi?" he said, grinning. "When are you gonna get a skate deck, dude?" "When you give birth," I said in as disinterested a voice as I could manage and busied myself taking off my sneakers and slipping on my knee pads and putting on my Salomon ST 80s. They were heavy and the weight meant I was there for some business. I had on this black tank?I was getting all dark again after paling up over the winter-- and some dark boy's jeans that were several sizes too large and had frayed hems from all the times I'd walked on them. I had the cuffs rolled up and dropped them over my skate boots. "What are those on your feet, Ayumi?" Patrick asked. "My skates, fucker." "No, under those. Was I like seeing things?" He meant my stripey socks, black and white. Ever since I started hanging with Sarah so much, I'd become absolutely addicted to cool socks. Toe socks, socks with stripes, socks with funky designs. Argyle, black and gray. They melted my heart. The last thing I needed was stupid Patrick talking shit about my wonderful stripey socks that I loved so fucking much I wanted to punch myself in the face. "Socks," I said, glaring at him through narrowed eyes, ready rumble if he so much as peeped the wrong way. "They're striped socks. Why, do you want some?" "What are you doing this summer?" Patrick asked, rocking against me. New topic, huh? Think you can outsmart me? I rocked back to push him off me. He was all warm and sweaty. "We're going down to the beach I think," I said with a lazy drawl. I think. I knew, but I why be precise? Precision wasn't cool. "That's cool. Maybe I'll see you down there." "I doubt it." "Ayumi, you gonna skate or what?" Michelle Cho, this other roller, asked me and rapped my helmet with her knuckles. I grinned up at her?Michelle was pretty cool-- and forgot all about Patrick and his tiresome questions and probable boner. "Nobody mess with my shoes, okay? I'm leaving them right here," I announced and hoped everyone heard me. "No one wants to mess with your stanky-ass shoes," Michelle cracked. Michelle and I jostled for position at the top of the vert. We were both suddenly giggling?her braces caught sunlight, her mouth all silver teeth and pink gums, a thin gold chain around her neck flashing, too?and we dropped in together, screaming and suddenly I was lit from within. Again! I skated all afternoon until my clothes?especially down around my ass?were wet with sweat. I took off my helmet and my hair felt heavier than usual. Streams of stinging perspiration ran into my eyes and I wiped them on my shirt. It was around dinner time so some of us, the kids in the group like Michelle and my new peers, started saying our goodbyes. "Hey, Ayumi," Patrick called after me. "Wait up." I rolled my eyes for the benefit of the girls around me, then waited with one fist on my hip, my sneakers in the other. Patrick and I started off down the sidewalk, me just gliding along, Patrick's board clattering loudly. He had amazing control, though. He could slip from side to side and avoid beer cans and McDonald's bags and keep up with me with just a quick kick here and there, so fast sometimes I missed them. "What beach you guys going to?" he asked. "St. Francis." "Dude, we're not. Fuck. I was hoping to see you down there." "Patrick, don't start this shit again, okay?" "Dude! Stuck on yourself much, Ayumi? I just meant we could skate together or hang out or something. Like friends." "Oh." God, one year living as a teeny girl and still I had so much to learn. Sometimes it seemed I never would. Now Patrick was all pissed at me and I was embarrassed, but that in turn just made me angry with him for making me feel that way. "My street," Patrick said. "See you around when you get back, okay?" "Yeah." He rolled away, kicking as he went, then just gliding along. Whatever else I thought of him, I had to admit the dude knew how to handle a skateboard. Weird. I hadn't considered the possibility of making friends with a guy. Well, with anyone beyond Sarah, for that matter. As I skated home in relative solitude, I wondered about all the new things I was learning about myself lately. I was still changing, still transforming. I needed to talk to Emily. She knew more about me than I did. Chapter Two: I Know You're a Cannonball After dinner?no Emily?I put aside my self-questioning and forever blazing identity crisis and carried out my plan. I called Sarah. After shooting the shit with Mrs. McAvoy-- who signaled her voice recognition abilities by loudly braying, "Oh, it's the Devil Child!" as soon as I greeted her-- I talked to Princepessa Sarafina of Monte McAvoy-on-Stratfordburg herself and she was super-excited about my invitation. "I mean, Mrs. Ko?Mom really wants you to go with us, too, so it's not like it's just me," I told her, trying to calm her down a little. "I'll ask my mom!" she chirped. "Hold on." I listened to their conversation and in like two seconds flat, Sarah had joined our beach expedition. We left in the early morning a week later, picked up Sarah?Mrs. McAvoy came out to lean in the window and talk to Mrs. Komori while Emily and I helped Sarah put her suitcase in the back. "Hey, Sarah-cera," Emily said. "Whatever will be will be, huh?" Sarah just grinned and blushed and got into the backseat. "She is gonna like talk this week, isn't she, Amy?" Emily whispered. "Probably," I said. "She's shy. She's just very, very shy." Finally, we were back on the road. While I listened to music on my Walkman?mostly "Reject All American" by the recently late, lamented Bikini Kill and, weirdly enough, Madonna's "Ray of Light," which I found tasted like delicious birthday cake I couldn't seem to get enough of-- Emily kept turning around in her seat and blathering at Sarah about all kinds of silly things to try to draw her out and as we headed farther south into the sun. The more it went on, the more interested I became so I pulled off my headphones and listened as Sarah first began peeping these little one-word answers. But she warmed up she got more and more animated until she eventually became so talkative it was like she wasn't ever going to shut up. She seemed really in awe of Emily, and who wouldn't be? In many ways, Emily was the source of everything evil and awesome about me as I developed into Amy. She was my guide and mentor, even if she wasn't around as much as I might've liked. So it was fun for me to listen to Sarah and Emily talk about all kinds of things. Our plans for next year at school, what it was like hanging out with me at the skatepark, what kind of music she liked, what books she read. Then they got onto the subject of art and that led to them to me which made me start sinking into my seat, hoping to phase through like Kitty Pryde from "Uncanny X-Men" and drop out the undercarriage, bounce along the highway and get left behind. "Yeah, Amy's my number one model," Emily was saying. "Shut up now," I sang. "Emily can shut up now." She cut her eyes at me, pure wickedness. My discomfort was her sisterly joy. "You should see some of the paintings I've done." "LALALA!" I shouted. "SORRY, EMILY, NO ONE CAN HEAR YOU OVER THE RADIO!" Actually, the radio wasn't even on at the time. "Amy!" Mrs. Komori snapped. "You're going to kill us all when you cause me to swerve off the road." "Amy is really pretty, I think," Sarah said, and now it was my turn to blush. "Oh yeah, she's a charmer," Emily said, laughing at a private joke. "She dresses like a boy, though." Sarah looked kind of shocked. Like it had never crossed her mind that anything I did was the least bit unusual, but more so because she thought Emily was bad-mouthing my clothing choices?she didn't understand Emily was just busting my balls because that's how we Komori sisters were with each other. "I think she dresses that way 'cause she skates. Right, Amy?" she asked, all hesitant lest I disagree with her for some reason. "She's teasing us," I explained. "Oh." Sarah looked sad. "Emily likes to come off all nice at first, but she's really a mean bitch," I said. Sarah's eyes went wide, but Mrs. Komori and Emily just laughed. Then Mrs. Komori coughed, a signal to me to tone it down a bit. I was just happy to get us off the Amy portrait topic. I seriously didn't want my one friend in the world to know the terrible thing I'd discovered about myself-- this pure love of dressing up. In silly costumes. As long as no one was going to be ogling me, and if it would help Emily, I'd wear just about anything she asked. Also, I was helpless against Emily because of all the stuff she'd done for me, or attempted to do, and how she really did try to look out for me in ways I needed now in this new life. As a result, Emily's painting collection had images of me wearing all kinds of crazy stuff, like an Alice in Wonderland dress?that painting had the caterpillar and the mushroom and a hookah in it, too, that Emily made up in her mind based on the old illustrations and I would've been in love with it if it hadn't featured me in the starring role?an 18th century shepherd girl, a ballerina, a maiko (even though I was wearing one of Mrs. Komori's yukata and not an actual kimono and my hair was all wrong because when Emily found a wig in a costume shop it was too expensive to rent and didn't fit anyways) and even a few times in my skating armor. Those I actually did like a lot. The less Sarah knew about that side of me, the better. We stopped for lunch at a fast food restaurant and made St. Francis Beach by early afternoon. It was exactly the same as it had been the year before, when my change was new and the resulting wounds were still open, raw and bloody. Now they were at least partially healed. Yeah, there were scars and even some new cuts and contusions, but everyone had those. They were unavoidable, unless you were a shut-in. And since my body had also changed and matured a lot in the past year or so (a lot of the things Mrs. Komori bought for me the previous year were already too small), I even had two new swimsuits in my bag and I was totally at home with the idea of wearing them. Actually, I kind of liked them, especially since they were more advanced to not kid-like the way my old ones had been. We waited in the car while Mrs. Komori checked us in at the real estate place, then went to our condo, which was decorated with a lot of kitschy beachy stuff like paintings of boats on the walls and plastic crabs in nets. "Is this a condominium or a seafood restaurant?" Emily asked when we first hit the living room. "Race you for the best room!" I shouted and dashed up the steps, but Emily caught me halfway up and knocked me down and pretty much trampled my ass. I caught her at one of the bedroom doors and we got into a wrestling match, both of us giggling and shrieking as we struggled to keep the other out of the room and claim it solo. Emily had a lot of strength and leverage on me, but I gripped the door frame and she couldn't pull me loose until she resorted to tickling. She had me on the floor?I landed on the carpet with a surprisingly loud thump-- completely weak and screaming for help when Mrs. Komori came up and yelled at us to help her unpack. Sarah was downstairs with this look on her face halfway between fear and elation when we came back down. "We still don't know who's sleeping were," Emily hissed. "You fuckin' bruised my arm, bitch," I whispered back. "A-are you two mad at each other?" Sarah asked, horrified. "Yeah," Emily replied. "Tonight, when everyone goes to bed, I'm going to slit Amy's throat ear to ear and use her body for shark bait. It'll be the perfect crime." "B-but I'll know about it," Sarah said. Emily and I both gaped at her. "Big mistake," I gasped in mock horror. "That's right!" Emily said. "I can't leave any witnesses!" She leaped through the air, put Sarah in a headlock and threw both of their bodies onto the sofa in a heap, Sarah's face going bright pink as she laughed helplessly and gasped for air. I piled on top, then got rolled off onto the floor. On my knees I threw my arms around Emily's neck and tried to put her in a choke hold but Mrs. Komori was right there in an instant, marching us out the door to unpack and settle in. "Remind me to make this a solo trip next year," she said, sunk in an easy chair and looking easily ten years older than her calendar age. Chapter Three: I Like All the Different People The next morning we were on the beach early. Emily was all brown arms and legs, narrow hips and barely any bust at all in this light blue tankini. I looked like a mini, short-haired version of her?we had matching sunglasses?in a red paisley print one. And flame-headed Sarah with her skin as white as letterhead paper and freckled wore this modest olive plaid two-piece that was so new she hadn't even taken the tag off. When I pointed it out to her, she tried to break the plastic string but couldn't. I gave it a try and almost cut my fingers off. Mrs. Komori came to the rescue with a steak knife when she couldn't find any scissors. "I-I haven't been to the beach since I was like 5 years old," Sarah said. "Well, we're going to put maximum sun protection on you, baby," Mrs. Komori said. "I burn really easily," Sarah told her. "I'll bet." Emily and I were already pretty tan, but we protected our skin, too. Mrs. Komori was a stickler about it ever since she'd seen a TV documentary about skin cancer and aging. She kept herself pretty pale and we all set up a brand new beach tent she'd bought at CVS the week before. Mrs. Komori supervised and the rest of us provided the muscle. When we were done, we had a colorful little pavilion to stay out of the sun under and set up some chairs. Emily put her towel out so she could catch some rays before the day got too hot. The only bad thing was, my farmer's tan was on display again. You could tell I'd been wearing tank tops a lot, but there were also the ghosts of my short-sleeved tees visible around my shoulders, too. "Skater girl," Emily said, snickering. I shrugged. Sarah smiled. It was hot and humid on the beach even with the gulf winds blowing. The water was pretty and languid, a greenish-hued mirror. Some fishing boats with nets bobbed way off shore and if I squinted through my sunglasses I could almost see the deckhands working, and sun glinting off the metal. Not far from us, some kids floated a kite while their mother watched from under a straw hat. I looked back up at condo, then traced the sea oat-line with my eyes, nothing but little houses, other condominiums and a small motel, then people on the sand until the beach curved far in the distance past the pier into some pine trees. In the afternoon, a thunderstorm blew in from the west and we watched the whole scene from our balcony as if someone had dropped a sheer gray curtain over it. Sky and sea blended together and once more I felt myself giving into this weird, troubling happiness. I drank a Mountain Dew and basked in the familial warmth and love of my fake-mom and fake-sister and my best friend. That night, after dinner, I decided Sarah and I wanted to talk a walk down to this video game place and souvenir stand down on the pier street. It was the main hang out for young people there. Emily had no interest?she was busy drawing in her sketchbook and taking advantage of being away from her friends to get some much-needed rest. And Mrs. Komori had brought some library books with her; not that she would've wanted to go play video games anyways. So Sarah and I hiked down there with a few wrinkly dollar bills in our pockets. I noticed Sarah following various boys with her eyes on our way down there and smiled. It was like the whole puberty thing, I guess. She was a year older than I was but we were both steeped in the boiling pot of hormones and body changes. And I knew Sarah was always crushing on guys, while I had really weird feelings I couldn't express; they were way different than what I'd been used to as a guy. I could kind of remember what it was like to desire someone sexually or lustfully or whatever, but it was kind of like thinking about the taste of some delicious pizza you'd eaten years before. Not nearly the same as eating it. So far I hadn't been dealing with it particularly well, either. I thought about Patrick and my intense reaction to his first clumsy moves in my direction. I'd treated him pretty badly, I decided. I mean, what difference did it make if a guy happened to think I was cute in that way? As a guy myself I'd occasionally had gay guys hit on me. Not interested, but maybe a little flattered. Of course when girls made moves on me, kind of the way Emily had, then I'd reacted most definitely. Unfortunately, Emily had been my first and my last with a penis. I'd never know what that was like again. Papa Joe's was crowded when we got there, a blue corrugated steel building with a convenience store-type add on. The main doors were open and all the skee ball games and Mortal Combat machines were doing brisk business. Locals in jeans, summer kids in tees, some of the girls with their bikini straps still visible tied behind their necks under t- shirts. Lots of flipflops. I felt overdressed in my black tank and baggy skater jeans, the same outfit I wore almost every week at the skatepark. Only I'd accessorized it with a bow-shaped clip in my hair, a choker strand of fake pearls?one of Emily's little costume jewelry pieces meant for little kids but pressed into service by us in a fun way?and a wrist full of beaded bracelets. Sarah had on a tee and some twill shorts and Birkenstock sandals. A day in the sun had brought out freckles all up and down her arms and even on her legs. But with that wild red hair and green eyes, she was looking cute and I was kind of pulling for her to hook-up with some awesome little guy, maybe a nerd or comic book geek or someone who would be in total awe of her. "This place sucks," I murmured to Sarah. Snap judgment; we'd been there for all of two minutes. "Why?" "It just does," I said. "Come on, I'll kick your ass at Galaga." There was this old Galaga machine, and Sarah and I played a two-player game, but the joystick was kind of sticky as in it wouldn't move, not like it was covered in syrup or something. We kept getting killed, but every once in a while one of us would do some ridiculously amazing move and avoid like three diving enemy ships and what seemed to be a thousand laser bombs or whatever it was they dropped, and we'd go into gales of laughter, just reducing ourselves to choking and tears. And then I was playing alone. My last ship died and I looked around for Sarah. She'd gone to get change and run into this group of guys about our age. They had the summer guest look about them, clean cut and upturned noses, just total All-American dudes. I was kind of disappointed because I always pictured Sarah with some pale, moody artist kid who would either become a famous rock star someday or kill himself the night of his high school graduation. Then I remembered Matt from the previous spring. What the fuck, Sarah? Why did you have to go for standard issue guys? I hopped over to join them so I could scope them out and either encourage things if they proved worthy of Sarah, or else queer the deal if they didn't. "This is my friend, Amy," Sarah said. "Amy, I just met these guys." "Hey, Amy," the taller of the two said. "I'm Chris. And this is Trent." "Chris and Trent, huh?" "Yeah." "How come you look more like a Trent and he looks more like a Chris?" "Huh?" "Nothing." A couple of girls came out of the souvenir shop and joined us, cutting between the boys and me. Trent sort of disengaged himself and came around to stand by me. The girls turned to look at us. "Hey, Amy, this is Jordan and Kirsten." "Wow, it's like a party all of a sudden," I said, smiling my best friendly smile. Neither Jordan nor Kirsten seemed inclined to be very friendly. They looked a lot like locals to me, a year or two behind the styles. At least as girls they were; most of the local boys were twenty or more years out of date. But there was just something low rent about Jordan and Kirsten I couldn't quite put a finger on. Maybe it was how they were around 14 or 15 but had this older, tired air about them. And they were both chewing the shit out of some gum, their jaws working overtime, muscles threading and shifting as they chewed. Clueless Trent went ahead and introduced Sarah and then Kirsten tried to get Trent to leave. "But we just got here," Trent said. "Let's go somewhere else," Kirsten said. Now my suspicions were confirmed; she had a definite north Florida drawl. "It's like way too crowded in here." I was getting the distinct feeling Sarah and I were not going to be invited to join them. Well, Trent probably would and then Kirsten would get pissy about it. Just when I was figuring that out, Jordan suddenly blurted out to Sarah: "What the fuck's your problem?" That was another important but by now unnecessary proof of the their St. Francis origins?locals, even the girls, loved to fight and they went around with chips on their shoulders all the time. "Nothing," Sarah said, her voice barely audible over all the game noises and loud conversations and jokes. She seemed to shrink. She'd never been around people like this in her life. In her world?despite all evidence to the contrary at Delacroix Junior High?Hello Kitty ruled and the Sailor Scouts protected us from injustice. In a lot of ways she was ill-equipped for dealing with the real world. "Leave her alone," Chris said. "She's really nice." "Come on, Jordan," Kirsten said. She may have been a local and didn't want Sarah and me there spoiling whatever makeout-party plans she had for Trent among the sea oats later when the mood was right, but at least she wasn't going to let her friend be a total bitch about it. In a strange way, I thought of her as being maybe secretly nice, like with dreams that went beyond Papa Joe's. Or at least nice-ish. "No," Jordan said. She was staring daggers at Chris, who was starting to wilt. Not really a tough guy, evidently. "I go for like two minutes and you're already talking to someone else." "Dude," Chris protested, his voice a little too whiny for his own good. "I just met you yesterday. It's not like you're my girlfriend." From the look on Jordan's face, I could tell she was hurt and hurt deeply. They must've done something last night, I thought. How far did they go? Did he get his hand down her pants? Did she get hers down his? That was totally the wrong thing for him to say at that moment. Things were going south and fast. The main thing I wanted to do was get Sarah the fuck out of there before Jordan took her heartbreak out on her. I stepped across to take Sarah by the shoulders if necessary and made the fatal mistake of stepping on Jordan's foot, which was in a nice sandal. "Ow, you little bitch," Jordan said. "Sorry," I told her. I put my hands on Sarah's shoulders and said, "Let's go, okay?" Sarah nodded and I turned to apologize to Jordan once more when she abruptly pushed me and I fell backwards out the door and bounced twice in the powdery crushed-shell parking lot. I wasn't hurt but suddenly I was pissed... I was up in a flash, charging Jordan but all I saw was Sarah's bright pink face, her mouth a dark circle as she said, "Ohohoh! Nononono!" which, under other circumstances, would've made me laugh like crazy. I rammed into Jordan and tried to wrap my arms around her and tackle her, but she shoved me down and I ended up hugging her around the waist while she landed blow after blow on my narrow back. She wasn't hurting me, but at the same time I discovered I was in no way strong enough to take her down. My brainless, angry strategy proved completely useless and I was at a loss. Even hooking a foot behind hers to try to trip her didn't work; Jordan had crazy balance and some kind of supernatural sense of her own center of gravity. Then the punches stopped and I felt like I was flying, except there was this uncomfortable pressure around my stomach, crushing the air out of me. Jordan suddenly got a lot shorter and I blinked in surprise. Then I realized someone as huge as a bear had lifted me right off the ground, and another person?an older teen with short hair in front, long in back, the way guys had worn it when I was a boy in elementary school another lifetime ago?was jerking my enemy away from me at the same time. A massive tanned arm with shiny hair all over it locked around me as tightly as any anaconda might in South America and my anger went from the Jordan to the interfering arm. "Let go, you giant asshole!" I shouted. I kicked helplessly a few times and then my feet found concrete again. I'd been lifted and set down as if I weighed nothing, which wasn't far from the truth. I was embarrassed and still seething and trembling from adrenaline (also I'm pretty sure my nose was running clear snot because my upper lip felt wet), but more importantly, I'd lost the desire to fight anyone. Just to save face, I made a feint towards the Jordan, who was shouting at Chris now. She turned towards me, but before I got even one step in her direction, a hand jerked me up by my upper arm and the bear-guy took me outside. Dude, I had no choice but to go with him, wherever he wanted to take me. This was a complete mismatch of truly epic proportions, like a single mountain goat trying to beat up the whole of the Rockies. A shivery thrill of fear went through me from the thought he might actually throw me down in the parking lot and I'd scrape my hands and elbows and bleed deep red through pale shell-powder on my tan skin. He didn't throw me or hit me or anything. He just shook me, let go and said, "Don't let me catch you in here again, missy." And then his shadow receded and I was standing among the Toyotas and Fords, looking at this huge fat guy with a dark sweat stain down his back walking towards Papa Joe's and the lights and games and all the kids in there staring out at me. Chapter Four: I Know You Little Libertine Angry, humiliated, discarded, I stood there with my nose running, feeling a vague need to pee, not knowing what to do. Where was Sarah? At least if she came out, I'd have someone to complain to and that would give me some relief. At last she emerged, coming towards me, looking back over her shoulder, looking at me, red ringlet hair bouncing as she walked. Worried, near tears. Totally Sarah. "Did they kick out those other girls?" I asked her. "I dunno. I don't think so..." "Huh? That's not fair! That stupid Jordan bitch pushed me first!" "I know, I saw!" I frowned, distressed at the injustice of it all, but couldn't think of anything I could do that would fix it. Worse things had happened in the history of the world. Authorities sometimes only saw the second punch and made their summary judgments based on limited information and that was that. My sense of outrage was somewhat limited by a growing feeling that beach locals tended to stick together against tourist kids and fighting one meant I'd probably end up fighting all of them and if they noticed Sarah and me still out in the parking lot, the incident would only escalate and this time we'd be beyond Bear-man's jurisdiction. I had a brief image of me curled up in the fetal position on the ground in the center of a ring of kicking feet. Not fun. "God, let's get out of here," I hissed and stalked off towards the pier, my eyes narrow and a bit damper than I would have liked. "You have chalk on your butt," Sarah squeaked. My anger intensified, sending my personal temperature soaring. I tried to look at my own ass as I walked and Sarah started trying to wipe it off, which sent me into gales of hysterical laughter. "Stop touching my ass!" I shouted. A little family, all dark shadows between the street lamp haloes stumbled as a group and both Sarah and I broke into a run down to the pier. The wooden pier stretched into the Gulf of Mexico. It was all weathered wood almost black, with wide gaps beneath our feet through which we could see the water churning. I remembered having been afraid as a kid of falling through, tumbling downward to splash and drown. Well, I'd grown up and been knocked down a few pegs in size but I was reasonably certain as thin and insubstantial a girl as I was, I wasn't going to fell through like Skinny Minny or something. The fishy smell was stronger the further towards the far end we got, and the wind. I was glad I had short hair, because Sarah's thick red tresses were whipping her in the eyes and face and she kept pulling it out of her face, but that was the price she paid for her pre-Raphaelite girliness. Finally, she tied it into a loose ponytail and got some relief. A few old guys were night fishing, tackle boxes and white plastic buckets beside them on the deck. Bits of squid like chewing gum in various stages of drying stuck to the railing and made me cautious about where I leaned. "Um..." Sarah said. "What?" "That was really kinda dumb back there." "Uh huh. Yeah, tell me about it, dude." "I mean, you could've had like ten girls swarming you a-and?" "Nah. I'm just pissed I'm kicked out and now where am I supposed to go the rest of the week?" "No, really. Do you... Do you..." "Do I what?" "Do you ever... like... think before you... do stuff?" I frowned and turned and looked out at the dark water, the lights in the beach cottages and condos stretching in a great curve into the night, as far as I could see. I shrugged. Irritated. Of course I'd thought. I thought about how I wanted to protect Sarah. Too bad for me while doing so I had stepped on Jordan's foot. These local kids were fighters, both boys and girls. Even if I'd still had my dick and stuff, Jordan would've jumped me for trampling her. Or even if she was the one with the dick. It didn't really matter at St. Francis Beach. What a fucked up place to grow up in. Blue collar parents and all these snotty kids invading your space every summer with toys and things your family couldn't afford and a "serve me" attitude. And what a fucked up me. Being a girl was hard enough if you'd been born one, and I'd been learning that just from observing?and it really pissed me off at the old me for having been so wrapped up in his stupid white boy privilege not to have noticed, or to have seen it and just kind of pooh-poohed it even in well-meaning way. Now I was playing on their team, poised right on the cusp of really trying to go for it and become a sister... and puberty sure as fuck wasn't helping me any. That talk with Emily was way overdue. I decided I had to get with her sometime after we got home. If I could survive St. Francis Beach. After a while, Sarah and I began ambling back down the pier, heading we didn't know where. Maybe back to the condo to laze about or play Clue or something. "Hey!" a high-pitched voice shouted from down on the sand when we were almost near the end. "Is she talking to us?" Sarah asked. "Who?" Sarah answered by pointing. There was a small figure standing just below us. "You said 'she,'" I said. "I think that's a boy." "Uh uh." "I was looking for you guys," this androgynous person said, then came running towards us. . Short brown hair in a messy boy cut, big eyes and lots of freckles, even more than Sarah, who was the Queen of Sun- spots. Muscle tee, cut off jeans, no shoes. Under the pier lights, the newcomer had this pixie-ish look, but sort of wiry, with well- defined shoulders. Definitely a boy, I thought, except for the tee which looked pretty girly, like something from one of Sarah's beloved Alloy fashion catalogs. "Looking for us?" I asked, already on the defensive. I figured this was some straggler from Papa Joe's pissed at me and looking for trouble. "I saw what happened at that stupid video game place." "Papa Joe's?" Sarah asked. The newcomer goggled at her. What other place was there? She was probably wondering if Sarah was messing with her, because she let out a little laugh in disbelief. "Yeah. That was so fuckin' rad, dude." I shrugged. Then I couldn't stand it anymore and blurted, "Are you a boy or a girl?" "What are you?" I blinked. I'd thought my shorter, more severe "Matilda from 'The Professional' bob was a dead giveaway; there was no denying its basic femininity and I didn't think any boy my age would put up with something like that on his head. I asked myself, Does she know me from my old life? But that was stupid. Outside the Komoris, only a few of Emily's friends knew I'd ever been a guy and I barely saw any of them anymore. Also, it was a great question, one that I couldn't answer, although maybe the answer was both or neither. To simplify things, I said, "I'm a girl, dude." "I-I'm a girl, too," Sarah said. We all sort of went into brain-lock for a second. "My name's Gina," the newcomer said, grinning, her elfin eyes narrowed into dark slits. "If that answers your question." "I'm Amy." "Sarah McAvoy." "What's up, homeboys?" Gina said with a crazy grin and playfully punched us both in the arms. "Sorry, I'm just wigged out on like a whole 2-liter bottle of Coke." Chapter Five: I'll Be Whatever You Want Freckle-Face turned out to be from our hometown, but she went to Cloverleaf Junior High, which was one of Delacroix Junior's rivals, although that wasn't saying much; we didn't have sports teams or anything. She was really impressed with my temper and violence, which should have warned me away, but the more we talked and walked along the beach, the more I started to like Gina. She was a total smart-ass and, as we learned that night, apparently the most fearless girl on earth. We walked and talked. Of course, music was the main topic. Gina was a huge Ramones and Sex Pistols fan and she'd inherited this love for first wave punk from her dad, who'd played in a lot of bands when he was college student. "Amy plays the guitar," Sarah said helpfully. "Really? Awesome," Gina said and squeezed my bare arm. Her hand was soft and moist and I almost jumped out of my skin. God, she touched me, I thought. I wanna touch her back. I'll bet her skin is like really soft. We were all kind of melted from the humidity?my shirt felt damp and heavy-- and even in the moonlight I could see Gina had this little halo about her. So I was really kind of aching to find out if my theory was right, but I couldn't think of any way to do it that would be inconspicuous or non-creepy. But I also felt like, what the fuck? Where did that come from? I tried to stay on topic, but my mouth had gone a little dry. "Yeah, I kinda used to. I was in the mariachi club back at my old school." "What old school? Delacroix Junior? You guys have a mariachi club?" "No, back in Cali. When I was a kid." "Amy is adopted," Sarah said. She knew the official story by then, all about it. "That's why she and her sister don't look anything alike." "What does your sister look like? Tall and blonde or something?" "No," I said. "Well, tall. She's Japanese American, too." "Is she like a super-genius? Wow, you're like Claudia and Janine Kishi, huh?" At that, Sarah burst into giggles and then they were both laughing and I was totally left out. "They are!" Sarah said. "Kishi who?" I asked, having no idea what was so funny. "You haven't read 'Babysitter's Club?'" Gina asked. "I don't know what that is." "It's this book series I was into when I was a kid. God, I don't wanna explain all that stupid stuff now. Your sister-- she's tall? I thought Japanese people were all like short and stuff. How tall is she?" "Almost 6 feet." "Oh shit! And you're practically a midget. Or a dwarf. Whatever the fuck they're called." "Amy's sister really really pretty, too," Sarah said. Gina laughed. "Yeah, you're right. They probably don't look anything alike then." I frowned. I could've kicked Sarah for setting me up for that. Trying to regain some kind of standing in our trio, I said, "I skate, too." "Roller skate? Skateboarding?" "Inline." "Rad. I've never done that. I skateboard. Well, I did. But now I mostly just drum out in the garage. I play my dad's old set. It's all beat up and stuff but I heart it so much!" "God, you're so fucking cool," I blurted in a sighing way. My eyes went wide. I couldn't help it; it just slipped out and hung there in the space between us, almost as if I'd written it on a big sign in neon colors. Now I was the one being stared at like a little alien. Idiot! I wanted to slap myself. If I hadn't already been sweating a little, that definitely would have beaded my forehead. I wiped my sweaty hands on my pants. Gina cackled. "Thanks, dude. I don't think anyone's ever told me that before." "Yeah," I said, not wanting to look at her, inwardly eviscerating myself as the dumbest girl on earth. We found ourselves down near this canal where during the day private charter fishing boats and all kinds of pleasure craft I didn't know the names for came and went. Gina led us up this sandy slope to an empty square depression where some kind of dredging went on from time to time?I guessed. It's not like I knew what people did in the St. Francis Beach municipality other than bake themselves brown and drink beer and toss Frisbees and footballs all day. And start fights at the video game center. "Wow," Sarah said softly. We were looking down on the dark beach, the waves sort of lapping as quietly as cat tongues, the moonlight on the water. Fishing boat and buoy lights blinked way out there and the thought of swimming for them crossed my mind until I thought of sharks and kraken and all kinds of scary sea monsters that would swallow me in one bite. "How high up are we?" Gina asked. "Whatcha think, Mulan?" Gina obviously meant me. First the mysterious Kishi babysitter crack and now Mulan? If I hadn't felt a little intimidated by her and still weirded out by my apparent inability to control my tongue, I might have fired something back. Instead, I shrugged and said, "I dunno... twelve feet?" "Fifteen easy!" Gina said and threw herself out into space, her arms spinning like propellers. She shrieked, her laughter echoing back at us and then she hit near the bottom of the slope with a WHUFF! She tumbled over once then slid to the bottom giggling crazily. Without thinking, just an electric feeling of jealousy and fear, I did the same. One instant of flight, my own arms pinwheeling, my legs kicking furiously and then gravity caught me. It was like being on the vert, only I wasn't going to catch the curved wall with my skates and let momentum carry me across and up the other side. I was going to hit hard and hope to roll the same way Gina had, or else just stick the landing and snap my legs at the knees. I fell silently, though and when I hit, the shock went all the way up to my jaw, clamping my teeth together?which made me kind of sick to my stomach. I rolled forward and slid down the rest of the way on my face, sand going down my top and into my pants. "Oh, hardcore!" Gina shouted. I came up spitting out sand and grit. It was gross. "Bleah," was the only sound I could make for a few minutes. Gina brushed sand from my hair and slapped it off my shoulders and then I stood and did a little sand-releasing-shake dance. But I couldn't help but feel the sense memory of her sweaty palms in my hair and on my bare flesh, even if she's also scratched me a bit with grains of sand. Sarah came sliding down on her ass a few moments later. "Didn't wanna jump, huh?" I asked her. "No," Sarah said, shaking her head wildly. 'Cuz you're the smart one, I thought, feeling stupid. What had I been trying to prove? And then I realized mostly I'd been trying to keep up with Gina and impress her. And that was a new feeling. I mean, there were times when I wanted to impress Patrick and the kids at the skatepark. And times I wanted to impress Emily. But this was a whole new person I'd just met and she was total fucking coolness and I felt kind of inadequate next to her and really, really wanted her to like me. I knew that for sure?I'd known her maybe two hours and I was ready to do just about anything to make her think I was worthy of her friendship and respect. I decided I might as well take my shoes and socks off. After all, I couldn't possibly get anymore sand on my feet than I had already. Gina did the same and we went down to the hard, wet sand at the water's edge and walked along, letting the Gulf kiss our feet. Gentle kisses that cooled us. Cautious as always, Sarah stayed in the dry sand, plodding along and letting out little screams whenever crabs skittered across her path. We crossed under the pier, all shadows and light. Our condo was coming up on the left, all too soon. "Are you gonna be at Delacroix this fall?" Sarah asked. "Oh yeah," Gina said. "You and Claudia here?" "Yeah." "Guess I'll see you two kids there, then." Now I saw we'd walked back to the beach in front of our condo and I saw Mrs. Komori up on the balcony, silhouetted by the light behind us. "We better go in," I told Sarah. "Okay." "Hey, will I see you guys again?" Gina asked. "I came down here with my mom and dad and I don't really have anybody to hang out with." I swallowed hard. "Yeah! Maybe tomorrow night we can meet you at the pier and hang out." "That'd be cool. Check you dudes later," Gina said and then she was off running down the sand like Atalanta from the Greek myth and I wanted to chase her. Actually I wanted her to chase me. She turned and shouted, "See ya tomorrow, Sarah! See ya tomorrow, Mulan!" I stared after her until she was swallowed up by the shadows, and then suddenly she emerged into the pool of light under a streetlamp three streets down and slipped through the sea oats to wherever her family was staying. My mind raced?the same myth again, only I'd never catch it unless some goddess intervened-- and I chewed my tongue something fierce, all emotional and barely containing it. Sarah tapped me on the shoulder and I shrieked. "Oh God!" she cried. "I'm sorry!" "No, no, it's cool." "Did I scare you?" "Something is, anyways. Thanks, by the way." Sarah grinned. "What did I do?" "Oh, everything." Gina. I thought about her all night and didn't fall asleep until way after midnight.