Read Online Second Skin by Jessica Wollman - Free Book Online
Authors: Jessica Wollman
Tags: Fiction
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bed.
"What happens now?" I asked, half expecting the thing to answer me.
89
But it just sat there, lifeless and shriveled, like a flesh-colored union suit. It reminded me of this special I once saw on Oxygen: Body Image, Exposed. All these women of various weights and shapes wore nude body stockings, then stood in front of a mirror and explained how they felt ("My reflection really makes me regret all those Whoppers"). It was actually pretty interesting, especially when one of the women-a tall, überleggy blonde-fell so in love with her pseudo-naked self that she wore the body stocking to her local grocery store and got arrested.
I stared at the Skin. If I put it on, what would my reflection tell me? Would my life instantly change? And how about my appearance? Kylie had looked pretty much the same in and out of the Skin, but maybe I was different. Anything seemed possible.
Really, I wondered. What now?
You're a thief. It doesn't belong to you. Give it back.
The words popped into my head before I could stop them.
It was true. I'd stolen popularity.
My heart thumped inside my chest.
It wasn't too late to return it. Sure, I'd have to sneak back into the Franks' house, which was definitely pressing my luck. But Kylie was probably still in the shower. If I left now-right now- 1
90
could tuck the Skin back inside the drawer and then slip out. No one would know what I'd almost done.
And nothing would change. That was a definite. I'd be stuck with myself-not the new-and-improved version the Skin promised. I'd live out the rest of high school craving everything popular-and getting Gwen's brownies and computer Scrabble with Alex instead.
"I can't return popularity," I whined aloud, sounding exactly like a four-year-old at Toys "R" Us. "Who does that?"
I glanced down at my shoes-white canvas Keds. That said it all. I was a pair of Keds-colorless, plain and almost painfully flat.
Kylie Frank, on the other hand, was a stiletto.
Time for a shoe swap.
I went over to my desk, shut down my computer and turned off my phone. I was pretty sure Kylie had no idea what my e-mail or IM address was, but I wasn't taking any chances. The fewer ways to track me down, the better.
I walked back to the bed and picked up the Skin. And that was when I remembered the rules. Kylie had mentioned something about a set of rules. And a user's manual.
I had neither.
Okay, so I hadn't thought the plan completely through.
91
No biggie, I told myself. You're smart. You can figure this out. It'll be like on-the-job training.
When I'd first found out about the Skin, Kylie was removing it. And this afternoon she'd taken it off again to shower. So clearly, you didn't have to wear the Skin all the time.
I was making progress already.
But then there was the whole maintenance issue. I had no idea how to wrap my head around that one. I mean, I had the Skin, great. But how was I supposed to wash it? This wasn't the sort of thing you could research on Wikipedia-or by reading a box of Tide. Actually, forget Tide. Maybe I needed special soap. Or was the Skin dry clean only?
Yikes. What if I accidentally washed the popularity right out?
Maybe it was best to avoid washing altogether, even though Kylie Frank had worn the Skin less than a half hour ago. Or was that completely unsanitary, like buying used underwear or something? Gross. What if I got some sort of disease? Kylie seemed really healthy, but you never knew.
I held the Skin up to the light. It looked perfectly clean and smelled like, well, nothing at all. Maybe popularity was impervious to stains and odors.
Since that last thought was the only one that relaxed me, I decided to stick with it.
9i
92
Quit stalling. If you want to be popular, you have to wear popular.
My stomach twisted as I heaved all the lingering questions out of my head and, before I could change my mind, stripped off all my clothes. I lifted the Skin, running my hands up and down the torso, looking for the zipper.
It
"What happens now?" I asked, half expecting the thing to answer me.
89
But it just sat there, lifeless and shriveled, like a flesh-colored union suit. It reminded me of this special I once saw on Oxygen: Body Image, Exposed. All these women of various weights and shapes wore nude body stockings, then stood in front of a mirror and explained how they felt ("My reflection really makes me regret all those Whoppers"). It was actually pretty interesting, especially when one of the women-a tall, überleggy blonde-fell so in love with her pseudo-naked self that she wore the body stocking to her local grocery store and got arrested.
I stared at the Skin. If I put it on, what would my reflection tell me? Would my life instantly change? And how about my appearance? Kylie had looked pretty much the same in and out of the Skin, but maybe I was different. Anything seemed possible.
Really, I wondered. What now?
You're a thief. It doesn't belong to you. Give it back.
The words popped into my head before I could stop them.
It was true. I'd stolen popularity.
My heart thumped inside my chest.
It wasn't too late to return it. Sure, I'd have to sneak back into the Franks' house, which was definitely pressing my luck. But Kylie was probably still in the shower. If I left now-right now- 1
90
could tuck the Skin back inside the drawer and then slip out. No one would know what I'd almost done.
And nothing would change. That was a definite. I'd be stuck with myself-not the new-and-improved version the Skin promised. I'd live out the rest of high school craving everything popular-and getting Gwen's brownies and computer Scrabble with Alex instead.
"I can't return popularity," I whined aloud, sounding exactly like a four-year-old at Toys "R" Us. "Who does that?"
I glanced down at my shoes-white canvas Keds. That said it all. I was a pair of Keds-colorless, plain and almost painfully flat.
Kylie Frank, on the other hand, was a stiletto.
Time for a shoe swap.
I went over to my desk, shut down my computer and turned off my phone. I was pretty sure Kylie had no idea what my e-mail or IM address was, but I wasn't taking any chances. The fewer ways to track me down, the better.
I walked back to the bed and picked up the Skin. And that was when I remembered the rules. Kylie had mentioned something about a set of rules. And a user's manual.
I had neither.
Okay, so I hadn't thought the plan completely through.
91
No biggie, I told myself. You're smart. You can figure this out. It'll be like on-the-job training.
When I'd first found out about the Skin, Kylie was removing it. And this afternoon she'd taken it off again to shower. So clearly, you didn't have to wear the Skin all the time.
I was making progress already.
But then there was the whole maintenance issue. I had no idea how to wrap my head around that one. I mean, I had the Skin, great. But how was I supposed to wash it? This wasn't the sort of thing you could research on Wikipedia-or by reading a box of Tide. Actually, forget Tide. Maybe I needed special soap. Or was the Skin dry clean only?
Yikes. What if I accidentally washed the popularity right out?
Maybe it was best to avoid washing altogether, even though Kylie Frank had worn the Skin less than a half hour ago. Or was that completely unsanitary, like buying used underwear or something? Gross. What if I got some sort of disease? Kylie seemed really healthy, but you never knew.
I held the Skin up to the light. It looked perfectly clean and smelled like, well, nothing at all. Maybe popularity was impervious to stains and odors.
Since that last thought was the only one that relaxed me, I decided to stick with it.
9i
92
Quit stalling. If you want to be popular, you have to wear popular.
My stomach twisted as I heaved all the lingering questions out of my head and, before I could change my mind, stripped off all my clothes. I lifted the Skin, running my hands up and down the torso, looking for the zipper.
It
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