Page 6 of Absorbed

“Yeah,” Stacey responded with a rude lilt. “So?”

“You know, young lady…,” her mother said curtly. She huffed air out her nose and shook her head. “Nevermind. I have an eight a.m. client. Clean it up on your own. I’m going back to bed.”

Stacey sat back on her haunches and waited for the sound of the door clicking closed. After scooping up as much of the goo and glass as possible, she threw the mess in the outside garbage can along with the towel. She pulled the desk over to hide the stain, and shoved the ThighMaster back in the coat closet.

She needed a new plan.

Her mom was always telling her that “grapefruit juice makes the fat melt off of you,” so Stacey figured she could consume nothing else for the next few days.

By the time the swimsuit arrived Friday night, Stacey had lost six pounds, and was feeling proud of herself. But when she tried the swimsuit on and looked in the mirror, any shred of confidence she had found was lost.

“No!” Stacey shrieked from down the hall. “Mom!” She threw open her mother’s bedroom door and ran to her, Stacey’s face drained of color.

“What’s wrong?” Stacey’s mom stood in front of her mirror applying make-up, but spun around quickly, mascara wand held high.

“I can’t wear this! It’s too tight, and looks like Cabbage Patch granny-panties.” Stacey faced the mirror, and tugged at the leg openings. “It cuts off the top of my legs like they’re giant sausages, and makes my butt and thighs look enormous!”

“THAT’S what you’re screaming about? You cannot be serious, Stacey.” Her mom turned back to her mirror and took a deep breath, then resumed applying her mascara. “You look fine. You spent 50 bucks on that suit; you’re wearing it!”

“YOU can’t be serious, Mom!” She stood behind her mother, pulling at the suit and scowling at her reflection.

“Tough luck. There’s no other option right now. And I have a date.” She blotted her lipstick on a tissue while side-eyeing her daughter.

With fists clenched, Stacey screamed in defeat, then slapped her thighs. She stormed out, slamming her mother’s bedroom door behind her, and then her own, before throwing herself face first onto her pillow. She screamed long and loud, her voice reverberating off the mattress springs.

After the front door closed, and Stacey heard her mother’s car back out of the driveway, she sat on her bed, holding her head.

It was the end of Stacey’s first official day of summer, and this was a bad sign. There were only fifteen hours before her orientation at the pool. She considered begging Gabe to go with her to search the sketchy mall for a solution, but its biggest department stores—Gottschalks and Mervyn’s—probably wouldn’t carry anything close to a lifeguard suit. She had no choice but to make this swimsuit work.

Stacey peeled it off, and–standing completely naked–stepped into the shoulder straps, pulling up on the suit’s crotch until she heard the elastic begin to snap. Next she put a foot in the crotch, and pulled each of the leg elastics as hard as she could.

“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy,” she said to Murphy as she tugged. The dog laid on the bed, her head hanging off the side, watching Stacey’s every move.

Finally, Stacey put her heels in the chest area, and pulled the rest of the suit around her feet, tugging for every millimeter of give possible.

Trying the suit on again, Stacey looked in the mirror, mumbling to herself. “Zero improvement. What kind of anorexic geriatrics wear Lands End suits, anyway?”

Fed up, Stacey peeled the offensive fabric from her body and threw it on the floor. She pulled on oversized boxers and a tank top, then flopped on her back on the comforter beside Murphy. “Maybe I don’t actually have to wear the suit to orientation. Better to postpone my public humiliation as long as possible, right?”

Murphy thumped her tail.

Stacey curled around her golden dog, rubbing Murphy’s white belly, desperate to ease the butterflies in her own stomach before morning.

“Please tell me this is actually going to be a good summer, Murph.”

The dog rolled onto her back and looked at Stacey upside down, her tongue lolling out of her mouth.

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Stacey snorted.

Chapter Four

The Plunge? The pool’s nickname reminded Stacey of toilets. Urinal cakes and chlorine muted only by mildew. The stench burned Stacey’s nostrils when she pulled open the squeaky lobby door. The lights were off. She hoped she hadn’t written down the wrong time.

Stacey peeked through a small window in a door to her right. Nothing in the girl’s locker room had changed since she’d last been there several years before. The cracked cement floors were covered in standing puddles of water. There were no doors on any changing stalls and the cinder block walls were peeling. An identical door across the lobby said BOYS, but before she could see what that locker room looked like, she heard someone whistling.

Stacey turned to look through the plate glass window into the dim interior of the main pool office. The guard shack. Coach Bob entered through the back door and the bright sunlight from the outdoor pool deck flooded the dark office interior. Bob Smith was a PE teacher, the varsity baseball coach, and he ran the poolevery summer. The deck door banged closed behind him and the space was again shrouded in darkness.

Bob flipped on the guard shack lights, then noticed Stacey waiting in the lobby. He smiled and opened the door for her. Wearing his standard Mesa Valley High School T-shirt and ball-cap uniform, Bob’s permanent farmer’s tan peeked out from navy athletic shorts.

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