Amy 32: Amy Explodes free porn video

Amy 32: Amy Explodes Copyright 2015 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) 2015 Amy Komori. All rights reserved. Chapter One: This Is Not My Skin Spring Break. I'd never been or had the full-on break experience like you saw in movies and on TV, but since things were going so well and we were close to the end of our junior year at Delacroix High and some of us could drive now, it seemed like a natural for Silly Monkey to hit the road and see what it was all about. The only one staying in town was Lena, but that was because she had this music symposium she wanted to attend and a band she liked was going to be in town that week, too. Aw yeah. Just Sarah, Gina, Tamara, and me. I tried my best to talk Michelle into it, but she wouldn't go because Dallas wouldn't go. "What are you going to do then? Sit around bored?" I asked her. "I never fuckin' do that, dude," Michelle said, with an evil smile. Then she was like totally normal-faced again and just said, "Probably see some shows and skate." "Because of Dallas." "Yes. She's my best friend, dude. She hates the beach." I shrugged and that was that. The last few school days before we left were agony. We skipped lunch as much as possible just to keep from being bored, or carried away with anticipation. But it was tough trying to concentrate on finals. And the crazy weather wasn't helping my concentration any. After a week or so of clouds and ice, it turned sunny and mild, with a breeze that seemed to smell of ocean and empty spaces we needed to experience. Well, I didn't fuck up too badly on finals. I mean, I'd taken all these classes before, back when I was a guy. Still, my Mom was pretty disappointed when I told her I wasn't exactly going to be an A student this go-around. She didn't tell me I couldn't go to Spring Break, so as far as I was concerned, everything was cool. Until... "A bathing suit?" I asked. We were practicing in Gina's garage the afternoon after school let out, a couple of days before we were supposed to leave. Everything was locked in place: motel reservations, Tamara's car, spending money, weed. And then Tamara had to start talking about swimsuits. It had been forever since I'd given that particular subject a lot of thought. Or any, for that matter. "Yeah, a bathing suit," Tamara replied. "You have one, don't you?" "Uhh... I had one," I told her. I had to think back. "When I was 12 or 13." Maybe 14? It may have been still in a drawer in my dresser at home, probably permanently wrinkled and shriveled and in no way up to date as far as style and size went. "What do you wear when you swim in Gina's pool?" Tam asked. "Shorts. Or underwear." Gina chimed in that wearing nothing was also an option. And she added didn't have a swimsuit, either. Super-Shy Sarah then mentioned that not only did she have a swimsuit, she had three. What the fuck? Why would she have even one? As far as I knew, she'd only ever been to the beach one time and that was with me when we were in junior high, where we met Gina. Sara and her mom always went to the mountains on their vacations, and with her red hair and pale skin, she wasn't exactly the surfer girl type. I mean, welcome to Fried Bacon City. "Well," Tamara said, with a laugh. "We need to hook you two up." "Why can't I just wear shorts?" I asked. "What's the big deal about having a bathing suit, or not?" "Dude!" Gina said. "It's Spring Break. Just fucking buy one and shut the hell up." "Well, if you put it that way... check this out," I said, then pulled a middle finger out of my pocket. "Is this a big deal for you?" Tam asked, looking kind of sober and concerned all of a sudden. I wasn't sure. "Maybe," I told her. "Are you embarrassed?" Yeah, a little, not that I'd tell Tam that in front of my other friends. I'd been pretty show-offy of late, but that was fully clothed. It was just... kind of... problematic. Okay, like practically every girl ever, I did have issues with my body. It had nothing to do with having once been an older guy. And I remembered even he hadn't exactly been the most comfortable in his skin. He'd wished he was taller or more muscular or even that he had a somewhat larger dong. Just guy stuff. But as a girl? It was way more intense. After I changed this was one of the biggest eye-openers about being a girl. You were never going to be truly happy with your body because everyone everywhere had some shit to talk about it. Even if they didn't realize it. Like on the cover of a Cosmo. You weren't one of those girls. You couldn't possibly ever be. And no matter what you did, some dickhead was going to say, "I wouldn't fuck her," as if everything you were doing you'd done for just that aim--to fuck a dickhead. And because of that, you were also going to learn to judge yourself that way, as well. Even really cool girls I knew like my sister Emily and Tamara did it. So I found myself doing it, too. My periods could have been a bit less achey, and maybe I could have had bigger boobage like Sarah. I could have been taller, like Emily and Tam. I could have looked less cute and more beautiful. I could have looked less like a junior high school boy. I saw tall girls like Heidi Fleegleman--and I knew she had her problems with this, too--and I envied them. Some girls were fucking hot. Heidi was one of them. Sometimes I wished I were her, and that was the truth. But it wasn't all bad. Because on my best days, and sort of recently because of Tam and Sorrel, this body was turning out to be a pretty fucking cool one to have and I wouldn't have traded it for Heidi's. I mean, I really seemed to be built for speed and flexibility. And even, weirdly enough, a kind of balletic grace. Sometimes that embarrassed me. Like I'd want to be all mean and spiky and fierce and threatening as all fuck, but Sarah would point out some kind of dove-like shape to my hand gestures or some kind of glide or smoothness meaning it as a compliment and I'd get all wiggly about it. In a bad way. Or Michelle Cho would call me the Little Princess or some shit like that. It was hard to be a bad ass when people did that to you. And yet it secretly pleased me, too. After all, Michelle couldn't do a flat spin. Sarah and Gina couldn't dance like I could. When I'd been a cheerleader, all the physical stuff came super easy to me. I was gifted. Martin couldn't have danced under pain of death if you'd spotted him two of the cha's. Now it was like flowing in my blood. And I was kind of wiry and muscular in a way that when I cut through the outside noise I thought sometimes was really cool, too. Like I had shoulder definition and these little seams running down the sides of my stomach I found myself kind of hypnotized by. My skin might have been really soft, and I might have had teeny little bones, but I'd become hard, too. That stuff was fine down at the skatepark. It worked for me. And Tamara was obviously as into my body as I was into hers when we played together. And after Sorrel, I'd become aware, too, that certain people did find me attractive and a lot of those people were the same people I found attractive in return. That did a lot for my self-esteem. Maybe too much. It wasn't something people were all that comfortable talking about unless they were super-narcissists, which I definitely didn't think I was. On the other hand, as much as I enjoyed being naked in reality with Tam, I didn't particularly enjoy being naked in the minds of other people. Okay, so it was cool being desired and all that. I couldn't think of a single person I knew-- guy or girl-- who didn't enjoy attention... As long as it was from the right fucking people. At the appropriate fucking time. When dudes openly gaped or stared, or when the whole school was aghast at the naked painting Dallas did of me, their attention fucking sucked. It didn't make me feel in control or in charge. It made me feel like a thing. Sometimes it was super creepy and made me feel small and kind of sick to my stomach. Or even afraid. Most guys didn't even realize they could make you afraid just by staring at you in a certain way. Like that guy Daniel. He'd been mildly annoying at first, but I'd felt willing to at least become friends with him. I knew when he saw me he was thinking of sex and all that. So people did that. I thought about it with other people, too. I didn't encourage it or like it, but I could kind of deal with it. But then he took fucking liberties in front of a whole big crowd of people and it scared me. Not annoyance. Actual fear. Being the flat spin queen didn't mean Daniel couldn't have hurt me. Even if for some people my very existence might seem to suggest otherwise, life actually wasn't a Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode. You didn't martial arts your way out of those things. Shit could happen to you for no reason other than the other person was a complete and total ass with no sense of boundaries. Terrible things. If Gina hadn't been there to bail me out, what turned into kind of a funny scene could have had major consequences for all of us. The whole thing made me angry. All this just to set foot on a beach. It hadn't been like this my first trips down there as a girl, but I hadn't been then who I was currently. As I mulled the whole situation over, I decided it really wasn't a matter of embarrassment or not. It was a matter of owning my presentation, of owning my body. I told everyone so, then added, "I'm just not wanting to be part of the whole meat parade." What I meant was, the times we'd seen MTV's Spring Break and all these girls writhing together. There was a time when I found that stuff sexy, but on the other side of all the changes, it just seemed kind of strange to me why you'd even want to do that. I mean, great if they were having fun. But I knew that wasn't my kind of fun. "Am I part of a meat parade?" Tam asked. "If I wear a bathing suit, is that what you think about me?" "No." My heart thumped. Now she had me confused and upset that I'd hurt her feelings. Defensive. Thoughts that seemed so crystal a moment ago melted and ran together. "It's like... Okay, so you were in catalogs and stuff? I don't think that's the same thing. I don't know! I just don't want a bathing suit!" "Dude," Gina said, "We've seen you butt-ass naked." "Buck-ass, stupid," I snapped. "I don't care if you guys see me naked. I don't care if anyone sees me naked. Everyone in fucking Delacroix High has seen me fucking naked as a fucking jaybird already thanks to Dallas. The point is, motherfucker, if I want people to see me naked it will be on my terms, not theirs." "It's a swimsuit," Gina said. "Millions of people wear them. Guys wear Speedos and shit all the time." "Then I'll wear a guy swimsuit. I'll wear fucking board shorts or something. I'll wear a goddamned parka and some motherfucking ski pants if I want." My voice rose on the last couple of examples because I was starting to get pretty heated and embarrassed and feeling singled out about the topic. "Okay, okay," Tam said. "You're making it out to be way more than it is." "I don't think so." "If you're going to wear a guy swimsuit, then I am, too," Gina said. We gaped at her. She glared back defiantly. Chapter Two: I Was Invited In After Lena finished torturing us by making us play our own songs, Tamara drove us out to the mall, which we usually avoided the way we would a typhus ward, or a gym class. I would've much rather have gone to the Gap downtown, a stupid store I also hated. But at least The Crap wasn't indoors with waxy-looking tropical plants that had no business being north of the equator. Plus we could dash outside and smoke when we wanted. But even though I'd won one battle, even I couldn't always get my way. "Don't get pissed, Amy, but from a practical standpoint," Tam the former Alloy model expert was telling as we walked in from the parking lot, "if you're going the board shorts route and a tee, and you swim, you're still going to need something up top or else you really will be showing some meat." "Fine. I'm buying a fucking bathing suit, then. I don't just don't want anything too... you know," I told Tamara as she led us around. A word came to me: "Flashy." "You don't need anything flashy," Tam reassured me. "I want actual guy's shorts," Gina said. Ever since the Daniel-thing, she'd been on kind of a tear. She hadn't martial arts me out of it, or stuck a stake in Danny's heart, but she'd done the real world next-best- thing and now she was feeling pretty good about herself. And why not? Gina was cool. On the other hand, and it may have been really hypocritical of me but... I kinda wanted to see Gina in a swimsuit. I mean, she'd spent her whole life drumming, which really firmed up her shoulders and arms, and we all knew she was kind of muscular and interesting looking. And yes, we'd seen her naked. That was how we knew. But in all honesty, I'd been really into her at one time and the thought of her in something kind of cute really got my motor going still. She fucking gave me a girl boner even now, is what it was. Although this sudden interest in guy clothes was kind of intriguing as well. I knew for a fact she'd been sporting boxers lately, too. Interesting. Not that Gina was remotely interested in girls. Plus, she was one of my best friends, and I felt it was kind of unfair to think of her that way too much after having crushed on her for a long time. Sigh... We hit the department stores, then Pacific Sunwear (luau city) and Gadzooks, a store staffed by kids our age who recognized Gina and me as half of Silly Monkey from some of our recent shows, then practically told us to our faces we sucked. We almost stormed out and refused to buy anything, but Tamara with her calm, self-possessed manner kind of shamed us into staying. She didn't say anything, but I think I hated the idea of disappointing her, especially after making that "meat parade" remark that had stung her a bit. And Gina pretty much did and thought what I did. Yes, I tried on some bathing suits. I did it for Tam. I swallowed a lot of that stuff I'd been thinking and put myself out there just for her, and maybe a little bit for Gina. That seemed okay. That seemed like having some control of my presentation and all that. That's what I told myself. The worst part of trying on bikinis was actually trying on the bikinis. To me, it was like trying on bowling shoes. Even though the bikini bottoms had those sanitary panels, I hated having them nestling against my girl bits. What protected the panels? Did the store change them or something? And just how many other girls had worn this bottom or that one? And then there's the fact just as I suspected, wearing them made me feel more naked than I would have if I'd actually just been in the nude, and in a bad way. A swimsuit on the beach was one thing, but one under fluorescent lights, inside a public place where the business wasn't swimming, it was another. What I saw in the dressing room mirror was a tiny, black-headed, dark- eyed Japanese monster of a girl. Slightly built, but with firm legs from all my days down at the skatepark. I topped out at just under 5'3", which made me feel like a midget, although everyone thought I was 5'4." If they didn't, they were too chickenshit to admit it. All that I knew. But here I was, an unfamiliar version of me, clad for my girlfriend's viewing enjoyment in a variety of bikinis. Not to be mistaken for one of those Sports Illustrated giant chicks... Heidi, Laetitia or Elsa. More like some kind of Japanese girl idol being photographed for a shashinshu or something. Out of nowhere, a little impish impulse hit me and I did this little sailor-girl salute in the mirror. Amy, the new J-Pop sensation. Then, I cringed, felt kind of disgusted with myself and the whole fucked up ordeal, and wanted to put on my clothes again. I felt totally stupid, and I really hoped the store didn't have security cameras videoing the booth. I mean, who knew what sort of sickos they hired for security at the mall? Sour now, I had to admit, my tanktop tanlines looked pretty geeky in the mirror. I'd been skating a lot lately, so I'd gotten a nice, rosy brown that gave Tamara fits. But my typical skating-wear consisted of tanks and baggy pants, either old army surplus with butch camo, these ratty old corduroys I loved, or jeans. So my pale tank-strap marks pretty much nailed me as a swimsuit neophyte at best. And a dork at worst. At least I didn't have freckles all over my face like Gina. Although with her messy, short dark hair and elfin smile, they kind of worked for her. Gina didn't see, but when she came out of the dressing room to show us her swimsuit pick, Tamara really checked her out. I noticed, and I frowned mightily, but she was only doing what I'd wanted to do. So I just swallowed my Amyness when I caught Tamara's eyes wandering up and down Gina's form when she was just supposed to be appraising just the suits. "Nice farmer tan, Amy," an oblivious Gina snorted as we compared our choices. "Thanks," I replied. "You can be my hoe, ho." "Amy, that suit's totally you," Tamara said. "Thank Satan for board shorts and tees," I said. But at the moment I was wearing just this red suit with an orange-yellow- and-white floral print on it, sort of Hawaiian looking. It had kind of a cinched front, and wasn't too revealing down below. Still, it made me feel really weird, almost queasy, to wear a bikini in this store at the mall, my bare feet on the stained carpet, and I couldn't help but feel very aware of the other customers, few as they were, and everyone. At least there weren't any guys around. I wasn't wearing this suit in front of any guys. I was wearing it in front of my enemy, Heidi Fleegleman, senior and queen bee of Delacroix High. Chapter Three: I Don't Know What You're Doing Here "Oh, hi, Amy," Heidi said, with this put-on disinterested look on her face. Heidi gave Tamara a cautious glance. Tamara just smiled one of her mysterious smiles, with one of her long, cocoa arms draped over the chilly metal of a swimsuit rack. Heidi's eyebrows went up and she lowered her eyes, just picking through the suits there. "I'm going to go change," I told Tam. "You really should," Heidi suddenly said. "They start letting boys try on the girl's suits and people will get the wrong idea about this place." At first it didn't really register. Like what boys were there trying on girl's suits? Then I understood that was a dig at me. That's when I saw fucking red. Literally. I felt my whole face blaze up, then Tamara dropped a cool, calming hand on my shoulder. Heidi had already turned and was slinking towards the changing rooms with a suit she'd picked out for herself, but I almost chased her ass down. Unfortunately, I was in that bikini and all. What a dumb thing to commit suicide wearing. "Chill," Tamara told me. "I don't want her thinking you're like my bodyguard or something," I said. "I hate cheerleaders. They think they own the whole fucking school." "So do you," Gina quipped. "I do," I retorted. "I'm Queen Amy." Yeah, Queen Amy... with Tamara to protect me. As much as I loved Tamara, and tried to be the perfect girlfriend to her, that was one thing that really ate me up inside. Okay, Heidi had completely kicked my ass already, but I'd only ever backed down from her once. My friends knew never to mention it, because it was complete humiliation; I even ended up being a stupid cheerleader for about a month. I still shuddered about that--even though I also still secretly practiced some of the moves in my room when I thought no one was watching. Fearless Magical Space Princess Amy Komori, reduced to a cheerleader slaving away for Jabba the Butt. I got out of it with Sarah's help (plus this geek named Willis Wallace who used to have a crush just on me but now had one on both Tamara and Lena, too), and I swore I'd never wimp out like that again. And I didn't. I'd taken the fight to Heidi. We'd managed a brief armistice, but being the way I was, I couldn't leave it at that, and lately I'd been on the attack. But without even saying a thing or making a big deal out of it, Tamara took over. And Tamara could really kick ass, because she'd learned self- defense from her dad, a retired Marine. Sometimes, I really resented it. "What's going on in there?" Tamara asked, and tapped on my head. "Nothing," I told her, but she looked at me with this dubious look. "Hey, kids," Gina said, and broke a moment's silence. "This is like a lot of fun and all, but I really need to get home and pack." "Oh, fuck yeah!" I said. Actually, I was kind of hoping Heidi would come out and show off for us a little, but what were the chances of that? She was probably going to hide away until we were gone. So I added, "Plus, I really, really need a cigarette." "Ooh!" Gina squealed in a comically exaggerated way, and waved her hand. "Waitress, I'll have two of what she's having!" "Freak!" Anyways, I bought that bikini and then some board shorts and a couple of t-shirts, and Gina bought an orange suit with a triangle top and a bottom covered in this white and blue floral print (she looked awesome in it). After that, as good as her word, she dragged us to the guy's section and she bought a guy's swimsuit. She did it all proudly, too. Tried it on, looked fucking amazing in that as well, ignored the older cashier whose eyes were popping from the sight. Holy fucking god, I mouthed silently at Tam. "In case you haven't noticed," Gina told us in the car as we tried to pinball our way out of the parking lot without getting killed, "I'm kinda into guy clothes lately." "No shit," I said sarcastically. Then I asked since when. "I don't know," Gina said. "Maybe around the time you got that dykey buzz cut." "Is this like a thing?" I asked. "A thing?" "Like do you get boners when you dress up in guy stuff?" "Maybe I do, maybe I don't." "I mean, it's cool if you do or whatever," I told her. "It better be if you're going to stay my friend," she said. I realized I should have just done the same and bought a guy's suit, too. My board shorts were kind of guy-like, but Gina had taught me something. And I had this kind of growing admiration of a new kind for her. I wondered if she might tell us other things, secret things, later but even if she never did, what did it matter? I mean, what did it matter if she liked to wear guy's underwear and it turned her on? I'd actually been a guy, and I was ostensibly a lesbian of some kind now. A baby dyke or something. Maybe Gina even wanted to be a guy, or not. Whatever her motivation, it didn't really matter what she chose to wear or how it made her feel. I was just going to support her and love her as a friend. I also decided I would never, ever buy another girl suit, but I didn't mention that to Tamara, because she was practically bubbling about the one I did buy, and even about Gina's coming clean with us. Which was odd for her, because she rarely showed excitement about anything. Chapter Four: Love at My Ear Mom gave me a long talk that evening when I got back from the mall and laid out the whole spring break plan for her. I mean, even though she knew I'd been a guy and a lot older at one time than I currently was, she still worried about me. I'd become the baby of the family in a lot of ways, but it hadn't been easy. All I could think of during the lecture was what if my friends saw this scene? They'd be laughing their asses off. I played it very serious, though. I loved my mom, and she'd done a lot for me since my weird sex change, so the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her feelings. I showed her the stuff I'd bought and she was all mom-like about it, too, but in a different way. She told me how cute I was going to be and all that. She even asked me if Tam had seen me in it. "Mom!" I barked. She laughed. I had to laugh, too. Talking with my mom about my relationship. I felt on the spot, I felt all kinds of love, I felt weird and all made of soft papery tissue inside, the kind you decorated with. Chiffon stuff, blowing away in the wind. "I had to try it on in front of her," I finally said when I could find my voice. "Awwww!" Mom cried, and then she was crushing me in her arms. This big Mom-hug. She let go and held me by the shoulders, her eyes surprisingly shiny. "Are you going to cry?" I asked her, not daring to look her right in the face. "NO!" she snapped. We laughed again because she'd sounded so much like me. Strangely enough, our voices did sound alike sometimes. People mistook me for her on the phone. I sounded a lot like Emily, too, now. Who I called as soon as I could get clear of Mom and her sentimental mood, my big sister. Emily had never been a big Spring Break girl, either; she was mostly into art and the music scene the way I was. She gave me a lot of advice, too. But of a different kind. "Try not to smoke up all your weed the first day," she told me with a laugh. "I don't smoke pot," I lied. I also noticed I was consciously imitating her voice tone. I vowed to stop it. "Oh, bullshit, Amy. How many times have I seen your eyes fire-engine red, and your pupils as big as pool pockets? Oh, only about a hundred." "Okay, so I smoke pot. You do, too." "I'm just fuckin' with you. But you should really know better than to lie to me." Which was true. I'd never been able to put anything past Emily. I got her to change the subject back to general Spring Break stuff, and she told me about this guy she knew during her own Delacroix days; he'd chugged down a whole fifth of Evan Williams and tried to cross from one balcony to the next at the Beachsider, the most popular motel for high school partiers. Only he went 12 stories straight down and pancaked. "Man!" I marveled. Then I added, "The Beachsider's where we're staying, too." "Yeah, someone does that every year," Emily said. "Just as long as it's not you, okay?" I kept Emily talking to me a lot longer than she wanted to. I missed her a lot. Sometimes, I really wished she lived with her mom and me again. I hardly ever got to see her, because she was always either working on a painting for her classes, or pulling a shift at the sushi bar. Or, since she and Snowboard Boy were taking a break, out with this cool guy, or that one. She didn't have to wait around for dudes. She had a total line. When I said that to her, she laughed and said I was going to, too, but of girls. "I kinda already do," I admitted, giving Sorrel a quick thought. "Fuck, dude," Emily said with this sigh. "I can't believe how much you've changed in just a few years." I didn't think she meant the guy-girl thing. I thought she meant I was growing up. Or I had grown up a lot. Not that I really had. A lot of things were still jumbled inside me and still forming, but it was just like they would be for any teenage girl. I'd gone through a lot of experiments with myself, searching for just the right me. It seemed like she was happening at last, and Emily had picked up on it. And I didn't sweat her dating adventures. A few years as her little sister had cured me of any lingering romantic jealousy, but she was one of my major influences, and I still wanted to be around her a lot. When we hung up, I went and slept in her old bed. It still smelled like her, her sweat smell, the scented oils she wore, the same ones I wore now. Maybe it was my smell and not hers. I was pretty sure it was hers, though. Also, with my nostrils full of Emily, I hugged her abandoned pillow and I cried a little because I ached to have her around being my big sis full time instead of just on the phone. But I got over it pretty quickly. Early the next morning, we piled into Tamara's car and hit the road. Gina had already claimed shotgun, and Sarah was in the back when they pulled up to get me. Gina and Tamara got out to help me put my bags in the trunk, and Sarah gave me a shy little wave from the backseat. I had sunglasses perched on my head, my hair in black ponytails behind my ears, and I wore a strappy little tank, baggy, cargo-pocket shorts, and these old flipflops. You know, the whole aggressive skater/girl band thing I had going. Good old Gina had on some guy-looking girl jeans, saggy and scruffy, but cut off to mid-thigh and frayed. I remembered they'd been a favorite pair of hers, and she'd butchered them when she'd brushed up against this newly painted bench downtown one time. Oh man, she'd been so pissed that day. Mom came out (in her robe, with her coffee cup steaming) and made small- talk with my friends, then wished us a happy and safe trip. She kept her advice to herself this time, but managed to slip me a twenty while we hugged. And then I took off on the open road. We didn't get far before we had the windows down and our cigarettes lit. Tamara let Gina control the music, which was fine because we all had pretty much the same taste. Of course, so many years now as a girl had really given me a jones for what Gina and I referred to as menstrual rock, maybe because I was steeped in it all the time around my friends. Anyways, Gina sat up front and kept us pumping a constant stream of Liz Phair, Breeders, Pretenders, and my personal favorite, Happy Monkey Do, a J-Pop/punk girl group with this cool singer I idolized and emulated. Gina also mixed in some other things, like the Cure, Prince and this old Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff tape she had from when she was a kid. Sarah and I sat in the back and sang along and sort of grooved with these sly smiles and wiggling shoulders. All girly like. The drive didn't seem to take that long, and Tamara only got us lost once. Okay, I got us lost. I got all full of myself like I tended to do, and thought I knew how to navigate our way down there. Instead, I made Tamara miss an exit and by the time we realized it, we were pretty far down the wrong highway. We turned around in a Burger King parking lot, but Gina started a pro-Whopper chant, so we stopped, stretched our legs, smoked for a few minutes, and then had lunch there. The place was full of obvious Spring Breakers, a lot of people our ages, but none from Delacroix High. Tamara kind of got off on being the most unusual girl in the place, with her chin up and that secret smile of hers. She looked all hip and funky as she walked. Sarah, Gina and I felt very outclassed. On the way to our table, Sarah managed to drop her entire tray on the floor, which sent French fries skittering on the tiles and the rest of us into a wild giggle fit, even cool Tamara. Now people were staring at all of us for a different reason--they thought we were total freaks. "It's not funny," Sarah protested with this really sad look, which made us laugh harder. That kept us rolling right onto the beach highway, and to our motel, the infamous Beachsider, which was 15 stories of shag carpeting, sanitized strips on toilets, and cable TV. In other words, paradise for high school students completely without supervision. Tamara checked us in (they wanted a credit card, and she was the only one who had one) and we unloaded as quickly as we could. "Oh, fuck yeah!" Gina shouted as she opened the sliding glass doors and surveyed the scene from the balcony. I dropped my suitcase and makeup bag and joined her. The sunlight dazzled us. Our room was way up on the 8th floor, and it overlooked the glittering Gulf of Mexico and what looked like an endless strip of ivory dotted with pink and brown ants in multicolored Lycra and spandex. "Aw yeah," I said. "This fuckin' rocks!" "I talked to that guy Daniel before we left," Gina said, suddenly all serious. My Amy-sense went off. I did not want to discuss this. But I said, "Oh? Did you punch him in the nads?" "He asked me about you," she said. "Fuck, Gina," I told her. My eyes narrowed. This was more bizarre than I'd originally thought and now she had my full attention on the subject. "What did you tell him?" "I told him to go get fucked." "Cool," I said, kind of angrily. I fished a cigarette out of my pack and lit it after a couple of wind-blown attempts. "I never fucking did anything or said anything to him. He just like... grabbed me." "Everybody knows. He stalked his ex. Did you know that?" "No, I did not," I said, my interest now painted over with a fresh coating of alarm. That seemed like a warning to me, even though the danger was pretty far away on this sunny, ocean-front day. "Fucked up her car from what I heard." "Who are you hearing this shit from?" "People. It's around. He's been around a while. People know him." "I made a joke about him wanting to know me when we first met. I thought he was a dick, not a psycho." "I remember. God, what a smart ass you are." "These days." "Well, fuck his psycho-ass and fuck that town. We're going to have so much fun this weekend, dude." "What's taking them so long?" I asked in irritation. The toilet answered me with a flush and Sarah came out to join the excitement. It was so bright; she could barely keep her eyes open (and mine were sparkling black slits). We simultaneously dropped our sunglasses into place from atop our heads. Queens of the Beachsider. A trio of Evitas, looking out over our adoring public. Tamara sidled up beside us. "Who's ready to get high?" she asked, her pipe already in hand. Chapter Five: Falling is Frightening Gina and I were more than ready to burn some weed, but Sarah said she'd rather hit the beach since it was still early afternoon. I tried to talk her into trying pot just once, but there was no getting through to her. So I just sort of shrugged, and we all went to put on our suits. It only took us a few moments to get ready. I ditched the sanitary panel from my swimsuit in the trash can, stripped, jumped into my new suit (I didn't feel very J-Poppy at all this time, just Amyish), then pulled the rubberbands from my ponytails and shook my head to mess up my hair, which was getting out of hand. It spilled into my eyes and tickled my nose, and I had to view the world through it like a kitten from some tall grass. We kind of surveyed each other, because it was like a transformation. Especially for Sarah. She had this olive green plaid tankini that really looked cool on her, even though she was ghostly pale. We all knew Tamara would look hot. She had this fuchsia print bikini with a plastic ring between her breasts, and two on her hips, with a round bit of caramel showing through. Gina and I looked pretty much like we had the day before at the mall. Except for one thing. Or two. "Your headlights are on," Gina cracked. I looked down at my swimsuit top, and saw Gina was correct. I didn't exactly thank her for the info. But I did point out that hers were, too. "That's because it's freezing in here," Sarah said. The AC was on full blast, which was the reason for our little nippy display. Gina wouldn't let it go, though, and started telling us about this article she read in a magazine about girls who wore fake nipples. I started to get the idea Gina was obsessed with nipples. "Why don't you buy some of those travel-sized shampoos from the vending machine and put the caps in your top?" I suggested. "Why don't you do that, and make people think you actually have breasts?" "Why don't you kiss every square inch of my Japanese ass?" I ended up not putting on my board shorts and tee. After all the mental noise, I guess at that point I felt pretty comfortable, especially with Tam and Sarah there with me. Gina's stabs should have made me put on a parka and hide under its hood, but they didn't. We were a million miles away from Delacroix High, after all. And my skin felt really cool and clean, though, and I kind of liked that. A little bit of trepidation at the door, kind of like when you get ready to jump into a swimming pool you know is going to be just one or two degrees above freezing (or at least it'll feel that way at first) and then we were out the door and there was no going back without coming across as a complete baby. Every step down the hallway to the elevator took us farther away from my suitcase and safety, but they also relaxed me. I was doing it. I was just a girl with three other girls and it was no big deal, was it? I felt confident enough to give Gina shit all the way down to the lobby and out into the swimming pool and Jacuzzi area, and she got in more than a few licks of her own. All it took was some encouragement from me and Gina turned into her vicious, sarcastic self. Which is just the way I liked her. What I didn't like, though, was the fact that it turned out I was the only Asian girl on the beach. Well, other than Tam, who was actually half-Vietnamese. I mean, there were absolutely no other Asians anywhere to be seen. Just a bunch of pink faces turning red under the sun. Not that there were that many Japanese girls back home, either. Tamara stood out, too, all the more because she was a lot taller than nearly every girl around us, and a ton of the boys, too. The way everyone looked at her said it all. The coolest thing about Tamara was how she carried herself in this lazy- boned, almost queenly way. She obviously felt right at home in a bikini, in front of a couple of thousand eyes. She didn't put on a show or anything. That wasn't her style. But as soon as we touched down on the sand, she let her eyelids drop and got this mysterious look about her. She moved with slinky grace through the towels and bodies, but the rest of us sort of bunched together behind her. I was so jealous again. Back home, at the skatepark, I fucking ruled. On the beach, I was just another short chick in a bikini. Now I wasn't so comfortable anymore. I felt like a boy dressed like a girl, not because I'd ever been a guy. Because I was so skinny and angular compared to both Sarah and Tam. I had to put it out of my head. Why ruin a perfectly good afternoon with waves and sand? "Hey, this looks like a good spot," Tamara told us, so we spread our towels. We weren't there two seconds before a discussion of sunscreen turned into one about whether or not we Asians tan. "Yes, we do," I explained patiently. "At least, I do. I don't burn too easily, though." "I burn if I'm out too long," Tamara said. "But I can probably stay out a lot longer than you guys." "Me, too," I said, and snickered at poor Sarah. With her red hair and pale skin, she wouldn't be able to sun much at all without frying or blistering. And Gina tanned, but also freckled up; I thought the ones on her nose were especially cute that day. I also thought I wished she had worn her guy stuff. That would have been kind of inspiring. Sarah had asked about the tanning, in her soft, flighty way. Even though I belonged to Tamara (you know, love), Sarah was still my best friend and I totally adored her. I knew she didn't mean anything racist by asking. Now, if Gina had asked, I'd have given her some sort of smart-assed answer. "Feel the breeze," Tamara said, and turned her high-cheekboned face into the wind. She shut her eyes and looked completely serene. My heart sped up a little, and I felt a tummy-flutter coming on. "Smell the sweat," I said, and ran my fingers over my stomach, then flicked them at her. Tamara grinned, even though the magic hadn't worked. I hadn't gotten hot enough to baste in my own juices, so not a drop there was to hit her. "Watch it, little girl," Tamara warned. "Don't make me kick your ass." "I think I can take you," I said, all smarmy and cocky. "Gina's on my side, anyways, so it's two against one." Gina and I high-fived. Then Sarah complained about sunburns and peeling, so we got ourselves sunscreened up. Of course I did Tamara's back and she did mine. I didn't get too emotional about it, though. Everyone knew we were more than friends, but we kept it cool. We weren't going to be doing anything with Sarah and Gina in the same room, anyways, so there wasn't any point in dwelling on the slick warmth and softness I felt or the little tremors her hands sent through me when she coated my body. God, her palms sliding all over. If anyone noticed my little shiver, they were too cool to say anything. I think we both knew three days without doing it were going to be torture. And fuck, I hadn't even checked to see if the showerhead had a massage function. And now Tam was amazingly glossy and it highlighted her every curve, accentuated the fine hairs on her belly and arms. I gazed down at my own personalized Amy female flesh. My straight black hair blazed a gunmetal blue under the Florida sun, and I hid my narrow, dark eyes behind my cat- eyed shades. I felt weird, even more so than usual. But then, we were the Odd Squad of Delacroix High, and we were sort of out of our element and different from the other Spring Breakers (the exception being Tamara, who was certainly unique, but also self-possessed, arctic-cool, and very much of the moment). Gina was compactly athletic and toned, Sarah was womanly, and I was skinny and short. Yeah, we were all very pretty as far as I was concerned, especially my friends, but the girls around us looked like an Aryan race of fucking Playboy models. It was as if someone had cloned Heidi Fleegleman a billion times and sent her out to colonize the oceanside. About that time, Gina nudged me and pointed out none other than Fleegleman herself, and her cronies Staci and Traci down near the waterline. They were all bikini'd up, too, and looked like they'd stepped out of a JCrew catalog. So did the guys they were talking to, some cowry- shell necklace wearing muscle guys with no body hair. "Fuck 'em," I muttered, and lay back on my elbows. I watched dazzling sweat run down into my little innie belly button and make a shiny, oily pool there and tried not to think about how the only reason Heidi Fleegleman didn't fuck with me anymore was because of Tamara. "Why'd they have to be here?" Sarah asked, with just a trace of a whine. She obviously expected trouble. And why not? She was with me. "I hate cheerleaders," Gina growled. Ninety percent of the girls on the beach were probably cheerleaders. "Someone already said that," I told her. "Amy's right," Tamara told her. "Fuck 'em. They've got as much a right to be here as we do, and as long as we keep our shit together, everything's gonna be cool." "God, I hope so," Sarah said, and she nervously started playing with my hair. Wow. Here I was, Spring Breaking it with my best friends, who knew just about everything about me there was to know (except one thing, of course). Experiencing being a girl, being Japanese, being Amy. Amy Komori, the girl of a thousand nicknames. Amy, the girl in the naked painting. Amy, the skater-punk. Amy, the rock star. Amy, the player on the opposite side as far as Heidi Fleegleman was concerned. Locked in mortal opposition to each other, not by design, but by chance. Somehow, my just being who I was made us enemies. That, and her lust for me, which bonded us closer than we were with even our friends. Well, closer than she was with her friends. I fucking loved Silly Monkey; they were like my family now. I loved being me. I watched Heidi down in the surf. She and the others were swimming now, and laughing. After a moment of that, I stood up and sauntered on down there to let them know I was here.