and reread my message, hoping I wasn’t being foolish by beckoning this stranger for help. But at this point, there was simply no one else.
Chapter Twelve
I slept restlessly, harassed all night by a series of nonsensical dreams. The last one was the most distinct; I was in a sagging hot-air balloon, drifting far underneath the full, bouncy lofts of my friends. Marlene, Tamara, everyone—they were all laughing at me. I yelled at them to stop, but my voice was like the squeak of a mouse, and they all hissed in return. I turned away, hugging myself tearfully, only to see Kimberly’s own balloon rise past me. It was splendid, like a bulbous, ever-expanding rainbow. I watched longingly as Kimberly waved cheerfully from her basket, beckoning me to follow. I felt stronger now; emboldened, I soared after her, leaving the others whining beneath me. My balloon was becoming as huge as Kimberly’s, and bumping up next to each other, we flew on toward two massive mountains waiting for us in the distance. We couldn’t stop cheering.
My phone then sounded, playing a bittersweet tune about crisscrossed lovers. I opened my eyes with a twinge of regret, then frustration as I replayed the entire scene in my mind.
Why did she despise me so much?
Oogles jumped onto my stomach, startling an “oomph!” out of me. He quickly moved to my chest and began kneading away, his front paws digging into my breasts.
“You like those?” I asked him playfully, squirming slightly under his prickly touches. I studied my two mounds for a moment, remembering how they felt the night before. I carefully removed Oogles and sat up, feeling them quiver ever so slightly beneath me. They seemed larger, heavier, and I quickly stood and hopped around the room. They bounced enthusiastically—more than should have been possible—and a long, incredulous whine slipped through my lips as I darted to my dresser. I pulled out a fresh bra, lifted up my nightie, and tried fastening it around me; after a minute of heaving and grunting, I managed to close the clasp. I then stared mystified in the mirror, the brassiere just barely held together.
I bit my lip and turned toward the bed just as the clasp broke, the bra launching off my chest like a sprung trap. It zipped right into Oogles, who emitted a shrill “meow,” jumped straight into the air, and then shot out of the room. My chest, for its part, rebounded nicely.
Dazed, I walked down the hall to my aunt’s bedroom. She was brushing her teeth as I stepped before her.
“Auntie, can I borrow one of your brassieres?”
Her mouth still full of paste, Aunt Mari gazed curiously at my naked body, obviously not comprehending my request. To help her, I grabbed my babies and held them up to her. “Mine don’t seem to fit anymore.”
Her mouth fell open, spilling a glop of toothpaste to the floor. “That’s how I felt, too,” I said with a queasy smile.
I sat huddled in my chair during Literature, peeking at my classmates during every few moments of lecture. My aunt’s bra felt comfortable enough, but there were other things to worry about…
Mr. Prop cleared his voice. “Alright class, Bradbury’s
The Illustrated Man
is full of fascinating stories. I want you to choose one as a group, read and discuss it, and then construct a brief presentation for the class. Bradbury’s pieces are loaded with deep themes, from the dangers of censorship to untimely regret. I want you to locate these ideas and explore them with the class next week.”
Marlene, Tamara, and I pushed our desks together so that we were facing each other. I then pulled up in my chair, but gave a little murmur as my chest propelled me back. I carefully scooted up again as if nothing happened.
My friends stared at me.
“Are you feeling OK?” Marlene asked. “You’ve been acting kind of jittery.”
“I’m fine,” I said dismissively. “So, what story do you want to choose? I think ‘The Man’ sounds intriguing. Or maybe ‘The Fox
Chapter Twelve
I slept restlessly, harassed all night by a series of nonsensical dreams. The last one was the most distinct; I was in a sagging hot-air balloon, drifting far underneath the full, bouncy lofts of my friends. Marlene, Tamara, everyone—they were all laughing at me. I yelled at them to stop, but my voice was like the squeak of a mouse, and they all hissed in return. I turned away, hugging myself tearfully, only to see Kimberly’s own balloon rise past me. It was splendid, like a bulbous, ever-expanding rainbow. I watched longingly as Kimberly waved cheerfully from her basket, beckoning me to follow. I felt stronger now; emboldened, I soared after her, leaving the others whining beneath me. My balloon was becoming as huge as Kimberly’s, and bumping up next to each other, we flew on toward two massive mountains waiting for us in the distance. We couldn’t stop cheering.
My phone then sounded, playing a bittersweet tune about crisscrossed lovers. I opened my eyes with a twinge of regret, then frustration as I replayed the entire scene in my mind.
Why did she despise me so much?
Oogles jumped onto my stomach, startling an “oomph!” out of me. He quickly moved to my chest and began kneading away, his front paws digging into my breasts.
“You like those?” I asked him playfully, squirming slightly under his prickly touches. I studied my two mounds for a moment, remembering how they felt the night before. I carefully removed Oogles and sat up, feeling them quiver ever so slightly beneath me. They seemed larger, heavier, and I quickly stood and hopped around the room. They bounced enthusiastically—more than should have been possible—and a long, incredulous whine slipped through my lips as I darted to my dresser. I pulled out a fresh bra, lifted up my nightie, and tried fastening it around me; after a minute of heaving and grunting, I managed to close the clasp. I then stared mystified in the mirror, the brassiere just barely held together.
I bit my lip and turned toward the bed just as the clasp broke, the bra launching off my chest like a sprung trap. It zipped right into Oogles, who emitted a shrill “meow,” jumped straight into the air, and then shot out of the room. My chest, for its part, rebounded nicely.
Dazed, I walked down the hall to my aunt’s bedroom. She was brushing her teeth as I stepped before her.
“Auntie, can I borrow one of your brassieres?”
Her mouth still full of paste, Aunt Mari gazed curiously at my naked body, obviously not comprehending my request. To help her, I grabbed my babies and held them up to her. “Mine don’t seem to fit anymore.”
Her mouth fell open, spilling a glop of toothpaste to the floor. “That’s how I felt, too,” I said with a queasy smile.
I sat huddled in my chair during Literature, peeking at my classmates during every few moments of lecture. My aunt’s bra felt comfortable enough, but there were other things to worry about…
Mr. Prop cleared his voice. “Alright class, Bradbury’s
The Illustrated Man
is full of fascinating stories. I want you to choose one as a group, read and discuss it, and then construct a brief presentation for the class. Bradbury’s pieces are loaded with deep themes, from the dangers of censorship to untimely regret. I want you to locate these ideas and explore them with the class next week.”
Marlene, Tamara, and I pushed our desks together so that we were facing each other. I then pulled up in my chair, but gave a little murmur as my chest propelled me back. I carefully scooted up again as if nothing happened.
My friends stared at me.
“Are you feeling OK?” Marlene asked. “You’ve been acting kind of jittery.”
“I’m fine,” I said dismissively. “So, what story do you want to choose? I think ‘The Man’ sounds intriguing. Or maybe ‘The Fox
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