(Revised 1/8/14)

Glorious

Chapter Two: Copping a Feel

No, I did not convince myself that it was all a dream. I have, however, decided to kick Robbie in the shins the moment I see him. And against my wishes, all I can think about is the towel that's scooched under my bed. The towel under my bed that's glued together with Cat's... fluids.

However, make no mistake; I am one hundred percent perky this morning. I actually woke up feeling good, I mean real good, like waking up from a massage good. Of course that feeling goes away the moment I open my eyes to find Cat's backside, her pert behind now parked rudely against my stomach.

My dad once showed me how to frisk someone. If I can just... it's relevant, I swear.

I woke up before Cat, who happened to be sleeping quite soundly thank you very much, and now I have to tiptoe out of bed anyway. Just as I manage to scoot my way out of bed, an idea creeps into my brain.

What is that, you ask? Trina, my beloved sibling, drives me to school most of the time. Today, she'll be driving me and Cat. And that's when I'll strike.

After finishing my shower and scrubbing my hand raw, I still can't get the goo off. I was so fixated on my arm as I walked out that I barely noticed Cat standing up. I tell her it's okay to use the shower now as I put on a black Columbia Records tee shirt.

She throws herself onto me, and a thickness slides across my knee. I nearly jumped. Did I just... but Cat continues to glomp me, unphased. I returned her hug, only mildly interested as she spun away toward the bathroom in nothing but pink panties and a red night shirt without any socks on her feet.

The lyrics to an Ariana Grande song cascade from the doorway into the bathroom, muted by the sizzling of the showerhead soon after. A moment later, Cat starts to sing louder.

But my mind just repeats: how is this possible?

Cat can't be that good at lying, or pretending, whichever. I just kneed her in a place that would leave a football player on the ground, bawling. Even totally flaccid, there should've been a groan at least.

I guess it's about time I throw everything I ever learned in biology out the window though. Cat might have male and female organs. Sensitive nerves are no longer sensitive. Humans can now fly under their own power. Window, here I come.

Was Cat suffering from some sort of genetic mutation, or had she undergone surgery at some point in her life? And why was she so invulnerable now? A smile of determination flickers across my lips as I head downstairs, and I can already hear Trina waking up in her own room. Mom calls us both downstairs for breakfast. In about a half an hour, it'll be Cat's time to shine.

After breakfast, I decided to pull the sword from the stone.

Cat, Trina, and I fashioned the "ingredients" together for breakfast that Mom left out for us, and after eating, Trina's leading us outside to her car. Somehow, the state of California recognizes her as a qualified driver. How am I unable to pass this stupid test? Better question: how on Earth is Cat going to get her license?

Obviously, she doesn't know what happened last night, and I'm fine with that. By necessary extension, neither does Trina. What a great idea Tori, let Cat ride shotgun on the way to school. Totally according to plan.

You know, somehow, I can't shake this weird feeling that something bad's gonna happen. Whatever it is, I don't want Cat getting hurt because of it. Every time Trina glances to the right, my heart beat increases, or every time Cat says something to her, I listened with pointed, elvish ears.

And I can't help but feel like it's just Trina. I want to dispose of her very badly. More than usual anyway.

Cat, jostling in her seat, is singing a bunch of different songs from the radio, and at random times she sticks her tongue outside the window and lets it waggle with the wind. Right now, she's singing 'Give It Up' with Trina. Trina breaks from the song and asks me why I'm being so quiet.

Last night, I slept next to Cat with a woody, blissfully unaware. That fleshy tentacle in her pants. The boy part, so cleverly hidden, possibly for years since we'd started having sleepovers. How many times had we showered in the same locker room? Was I truly that blind? How come no one else saw it?

The most scatter-brained person I know has kept a phenomenal secret from me, all this time. I've never really had any big secrets to tell her, at least, none as big as hers. We're BFFs, aren't we? Best friends tell each other about these things.

I lean forward in my seat, clinging to the side of the driver and passenger seat as I announce, "Hey Tina, is that a pimple?" and I point to her right cheek.

To sum it up in my best words, the car the three of us are in nearly commits manslaughter as it swerves and nearly mows down an old man on a sidewalk. Trina's always overreacted when somebody mentions a blemish on her face. The car jolts, and then comes to an abrupt stop. Cat's head swings forward, missing the dashboard by how many ever inches. My head crashes into the ceiling.

Ow.

But I'm determined. Now with a bird's eye view, I zoom in on Cat. Momentum throwing me forward, my arm sprung forward in a way that's totally happenstance, and from there I let gravity do the work, mashing my hand against Cat's lap.

Finally, a response.

Cat let out a groan, rich and throaty, almost a cough. When the car stopped, I drew my hand back into her, a little too far I'd say. There's a swiftly-growing bulge in Cat's skirt, and its trapped between my middle finger and my ring finger.

The horror of what I'm doing starts to sink in. "Ouch," I plead. "I'm sorry Cat, did I hurt you?" I start, pulling my hand away. Cat plants both of her hands around her groin, bending over like I'd just punched her in the kidney. Trina, still busy checking the mirror for that deceptive pimple, hadn't noticed. But I saw Cat, sitting there in her seat like a person charged with premeditated murder.

"I'm f-fine," she replies in a weak voice. Her face is shaking. I think I'll push her a little further from her comfort zone.

"Are you sure?" I groan. "I think... I think I landed on something hard."

"Kaykay," is her answer, not even looking at me, or shifting for comfort.

So we continue the drive to school, my hand still warm from violating my best friend's privates.

.

Several excruciating minutes go by until we're at Hollywood Arts parking lot. Cat bails from the car, swearing that she's going to go see the nurse. My offer to walk her there myself gets shot down, and she disappears behind a pair of double doors in a flash.

I tell Trina that I'm going to my locker and leave her be. She scurries over to a group of teenage girls from our school who probably want nothing to do with her while I head inside. I find my locker right where it always is, and the same can't be said for my heart.

What I did to Cat was unforgivable. The last time she looked so frail, I'd kissed her boyfriend right in front of her. This was all so selfish, all to prove some insane theory. It was crossing the line, that was for sure. Maybe kissing her boyfriend outranks groping her intentionally. I'm so ashamed.

Shame, much to my disdain, seems to attract my least favorite person.

A raven-haired, pale-skinned teenager stomps toward me and bites my hand with her own, not saying a word. She pulls me across the hallway amidst the other students all the way to the janitor's closet.

"Jade," I cried, "let me go!" Helpless, I'm practically at her mercy as she tosses my arm, and with it, me, into the closet like a stuffed animal someone gave to her that she wants to see destroyed.

I'm sure that the other kids are just used to seeing people get dragged into this closet. If that weren't the case, someone would've assumed the worst and called for a teacher, right?

Jade's eyes start to burn with some invisible, scalding force. What does she want now? I really hope this isn't another attempt at hooking up with Beck again.

The name, my name, bleeds from her lips.

She's not crying. "Tori," she says in a, quite, uniform tone of voice. She's not hysterical. She's looking at me the way a witch might look at her supper. She's even licking her lips!

I cross my arms across my chest and start to back away. In my defense, there wasn't any preamble for what she said to me next in a voice that reeked of satisfaction.

"...so how long have you had a penis, Vega?"

Of course my eyes widened with shock.