After lunch my mother told my father we were going shopping. We still had our same car but my mother thought we needed two now, because there weren't any buses in Farbrook and taxis were so expensive. My father said he'd see, but I knew we'd be getting another one soon. My mother can talk my father into anything.
My mother drove to a shopping center where there was a Lord amp; Taylor. I had on my blue plaid dress and my loafers without socks and three Bandaids on my blisters.
First we went to the ladies' lingerie department where my mother told the saleslady we wanted to see a bra for me. The saleslady took one look and told my mother we'd be better off in the teen department where they had bras in very small sizes. My mother thanked the lady and I almost died! We went down on the escalator and headed for the teen shop. They had a whole display of underwear there. Bras and panties and slips to match. All I ever wore was white underpants and regular undershirts. Sometimes a slip if I was going to a party. My mother went to the counter and told the saleslady we were interested in a bra. I stood back and pretended not to know a thing. I even bent down to scratch a new mosquito bite.
"Come here, dear," the saleslady called.
I hate people who call you dear. I walked over to the counter and raised my right eyebrow at her.
She reached over the top of the counter and said, "Let's measure you, dear." She put the tape measure all the way around me and smiled at my mother. "Twenty-eight," she said. I felt like giving her a pinch.
Then she took out a bunch of bras and put them on the counter in front of us. My mother felt them all.
"Now dear-I suggest the Gro-Bra. It grows with you. You're not quite ready for a double A. Suppose you try them on and see which is most comfortable." She led us to a dressing room with a pink door that locked. My mother sat in the dressing room on a chair. I took off my dress. I wasn't wearing anything underneath but pants. I picked up the first bra and stuck my arms into the straps. I couldn't fasten it in back. My mother had to help me. She adjusted the straps and felt the front of me. "How does it feel?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said.
"Is it too tight?"
"No."
"Too loose?"
"No."
"Do you like it?"
"I guess… "
"Try on this one."
She got me out of the first bra and into the next one. I wondered how I'd ever learn to do it by myself. Maybe my mother would have to dress me every day.
The next bra was softer than the first. My mother explained it was made of dacron. I liked the way it felt. My mother nodded. The third one was fancy. It was lace and it made me itch. My mother said it was impractical.
The saleslady knocked on the door as I was getting back into my dress. "How did we do? Did we find something?"
My mother told her we did. "We'll take three of these," she said, holding up the soft bra.
When we got back to the counter who should be there but Janie Loomis and her mother.
"Oh, hi, Margaret," she said. "I'm getting some winter pajamas." Her cheeks were bright red and I saw the selection of bras on the counter in front of her.
"Me too," I said. "I'm getting some flannel pajamas for winter."
"Well, see you Monday," Janie said.
"Right-Monday." I was plenty glad that my mother was down at the other end of the counter paying for my bras.
7
When I got home I carried my package straight to my room. I took off my dress and put on the bra. I fastened it first around my waist, then wiggled it up to where it belonged. I threw my shoulders back and stood sideways. I didn't look any different. I took out a pair of socks and stuffed one sock into each side of the bra, to see if it really grew with me. It was too tight that way, but I liked the way it looked. Like Laura Danker. I took the socks out and put them away.
My father congratulated me at dinner. "Well, you're really growing up, Margaret. No more little girl."
"Oh, Daddy!" was all I could think of to say.
On Monday I studied the boys in my class. I had to have some names for my Boy Book before three o'clock. I picked Philip Leroy because he was the best-looking one. Also Jay Hassler because he had nice brown eyes and clean fingernails. I decided to leave it at that and explain I didn't know anybody else.
Right before the bell rang Mr. Benedict told us that he was going to ask us each to do a year-long individual project.
Everybody groaned.
Mr. Benedict held up his hands. "Now it's not as bad as it sounds, class. For one thing, it's personal- between each of you and me. I'm not going to ask what your topic is. I expect you to choose it yourself and work it up in your own way. The only thing I insist on is that it be something… uh… meaningful."
More groans.
Mr. Benedict looked crushed. "I had hoped you would find this interesting."
Poor Mr. Benedict. He was really disappointed. The way he talked to us I got the feeling we made him nervous. Nobody seemed scared of him at all and you should always be a little scared of your teacher. Sometimes he just sat at his desk and looked out at us like he couldn't believe we were really there. Of course Nancy pointed out that he never ever called on Laura Danker. I hadn't noticed.
As we were getting in line to go home he reminded us that on Thursday we'd have a test on the first two chapters in our social studies book. He asked us to please be prepared. Most teachers never say please.
After school we went straight to Nancy 's. Before we started our official meeting we talked about Mr. Benedict and his project. We all agreed it was crazy and none of us could think of a single idea.
Then Nancy called the role. "Veronica?"
"I'm here," Gretchen said.
"Kimberly?"
"I'm here," Janie said.
"Mavis?"
"I'm here," I said.
"And so am I… Alexandra." Nancy closed the roll book. "Well, let's get to it. We all feel each other's backs to make sure we're wearing our bras."
We all were.
"What size did you get, Janie?" Gretchen asked.
"I got a Gro-Bra," Janie said.
"Me too," I said.
"Me too!" Gretchen laughed.
"Not me," Nancy said, proudly. "Mine's a thirty-two double A."
We were all impressed.
"If you ever want to get out of those baby bras you have to exercise," she told us.
"What kind of exercise?" Gretchen asked.
"Like this," Nancy said. She made fists, bent her arms at the elbow and moved them back and forth, sticking her chest way out. She said, "I must-I must-I must increase my bust." She said it over and over. We copied her movements and chanted with her. "We must-we must-we must increase our bust!"
"Good," Nancy told us. "Do it thirty-five times a day and I promise you'll see the results."
"Now, for our Boy Books," Gretchen said. "Is everybody ready?"
We put our Boy Books on the floor and Nancy picked them up, one at a time. She read each one and passed it around for the rest of us to see. Janie's was first. She had seven names listed. Number one was Philip Leroy. Gretchen had four names. Number one was Philip Leroy. Nancy listed eighteen boys. I didn't even know eighteen boys! And number one was Philip Leroy. When Nancy got to my Boy Book she choked on an ice cube from her glass of coke. When she stopped choking she read, "Number one-Philip Leroy." Everybody giggled. "Number two-Jay Hassler. How come you picked him?"