Emilie in the 80s: 9&10 (Patreon)

Chapter 9

Pete went downstairs. His Dad had come home from work and was plopped on the couch, watching TV. The sight of his father made him feel at ease, like he was safe, and Pete couldn’t help but go up and give him a hug from behind. “Hey, Daddy,” he said, surprised he’d chosen the word ‘Daddy.’

“Hey, Kitten,” Dad said without taking his eyes from the TV, where the early news was on. It was Gerald Handly, with his wide, wacky ties and trademark yellow sport coat. Pete curled up on the couch, chuckling. Handly had seemed like a dork back then, but looking at him with eyes from decades in the future, he now looked like some kind of retro hipster.

They cut to commercial: A couple with big hair disco dancing while a woman sang, “The Jordache look…. The Jordache look….” Pete giggled. Jordache jeans! He forgot about them. He wondered if he had a pair in this reality?

Then, a woman in a bikini walking toward the camera while a peppy jingle played in the background: Tab! Tab Cola for the beautiful people. Tab! Tab Cola you’re beautiful to me!” They showed a guy checking out the hot girl, and his girlfriend dumps a bucket of water on his head. Then, a guy is drinking a tab and an elephant steals it from him…

“That ad is so weird,” Pete says, remembering it as he watches.

“I know,” Dad says. “Are they trying to sell this stuff to elephants?”

Pete giggled some more. It was such a dad thing for Dad to say. Pete settled in, ready to be amused by whatever the next commercial was. A black screen and the words, Kathy Rigby has good news for every woman appeared. I guess that’s me now, Pete thought, curious.

Then, Kathy hugging a box. “Something you’ve never seen before,” Kathy says, pulling her arms away to reveal a box of Tampax.

Pete grimaced. Yuck. He felt kinda of gross, didn’t like seeing that with his father sitting next to him, but he didn’t want to overreact because then— weird. He sat, averting his gaze, trying to ignore the ad even as new concerns and anxieties began to flood his brain. Would he? But, no, right?

I have to get out of here before I do, he decided. I can’t ever do… that.

Mercifully, the commercial ended and Handly came back. “This just in,” he said, his voice more intense as he clutched papers in his hands. “A massive fissure has ripped open the street in downtown Detroit.” They cut to a live feed, smoke and steam pouring from what looked like someone had slashed open the street with a giant knife. The famous status of the thinker could be seen in the background, now tilted to the side. A crowd had gathered around the partition the police had set up. “No word yet on the cause of this fissure in the earth, and authorities are asking people to please stay away from the downtown area.”

“Everything is going crazy,” Pete said, plucking at his hair.

“Don’t worry,” Dad said. “Just stay close. You’ll be safe.”

Pete smiled. His Dad was the best, and he did feel safe here at home.

Chapter 10

Pete’s night was filled with more fever dreams— images and voices, everything jumbling together. That horned goddess, and the word “Daba.” He woke feeling muddled, tired. Different. As he thought about his previous day at school, he thought about how powerful he felt with all those boys drooling over him. The attention had seemed creepy at first, had made him feel self-conscious, but what if Fiona was right? What if he just embraced it?

Might as well have some fun with this, he decided, unbuttoning the top of his blouse to reveal the creamy swell of his breasts, the canyon of cleavage. He looked in the mirror, cupping and lifting his breasts, adjusting them in the cups of his bra, shaking his head. Poor guys, he thought. They are about to have their little minds blown. He went to the closet, looking to see if he had a pair of Jordache jeans, but his eyes were drawn to the skirts that hung in a row to the back. The thought of wearing one made him nervous. That was pretty girly. And yet, he also felt excited at the thought, like it probably would be fun and he’d get a sense of how the other half lived, right?

He found a denim skirt, knee length. He wouldn’t wear it, he decided. He just wanted to try it on, see what it felt like to wear a skirt. Just for fun. It wasn’t like he was into it. He stepped in, wiggled his hips as he pulled it up, then buttoned it at the waist, feeling the skirt swirl around his knees, the cool air around his calves. He felt— free? Did a twirl, giggling, and then went to the mirror, putting a hand on his hip, sticking a leg out.

He looked… hot. He had to admit. His legs looked good. He walked around his room a little, getting a feel for the way the skirt moved, glanced back and looked at himself in the mirror. What the heck? He decided, throwing himself on his bed, kicking his legs in the air. Why not have some fun?

He slipped into a pair of ankle boots, sat down and started to do his makeup. He picked a wet, red lipstick that would give boys ideas. It was cruel, he knew, since none of them had a chance with him, but was it his fault if they thought they did? Most of all, though, he thought of Brad. It was going to be fun putting him in his place. Pete went back to the mirror, pushing his shoulders back, his chest out, and he smiled. Oh, yes, he decided. Brad was in trouble. Big trouble.

Pete went down to breakfast. The family noticed. “Going for slut of the year?” Lexi smeared.

“Shut up,” Pete said, sitting down to his bowl of Special K.

Dad glanced over his paper, frowned. He wasn’t pleased, which for some reason made Pete feel—- like a bad girl. He realized he kinda liked it.

“I think you look great,” Fake Mom said. “Like Madonna!”

“Slut,” Lexi mumbled.

“Zip it,” Dad said.

Pete hopped to start his torture of Brad first thing in the morning. But he and his jock crew never showed up at the usual spot. Instead, he spent the time before school with the girls, chattering away. Pete found himself checking them each out, appraising their fashion sense, their hotness. Many of them had normal teen-age bodies, which meant he was the hottest one by far. He had the fully developed body of a woman, in fact, the kind of body most fully grown women envied. He was the hottest girl, clearly, and that made him feel good.

But where was Brad?

Homeroom. Hallways. Nothing. Whereas the previous day Brad had managed to bump into him repeatedly, now he seemed to have vanished. It frustrated Pete to no end. Of course, as planned, all the other guys were drooling, tongues hanging on the floor, and Pete enjoyed tormenting them, slipping a thumb into his blouse, adjusting a bra strap while their eyes bugged out of their heads, but none of them were Brad, and he hadn’t spent all that time getting ready for just any stupid boy. In third period, he did see that someone had carved a stick figure with huge boobs onto the desk. Under the figure, the name “Emma.” He smiled.

When lunch time came, Pete had strutted into the lunchroom, confident that at long last Brad would have to see him and of course fall to his knees. But no Brad. No jocks. It really made Pete mad! Where could they be?

After lunch, Pete had study hall, and he headed to the library. He hadn’t completely forgotten about getting back to the future, and he had two clues. Daba, and that image of the horned goddess. He went to the dictionary and looked up daba. Nothing. There was no such word. It sounded like a name, anyway, so he wasn’t surprised. He thought of the horned goddess. It looked like something from ancient times.  He looked around for a computer, laughed at himself, then spotted the huge, wooden cabinets that housed the card catalog. Pulling open the M drawer, he was immediately met with that musty smell of old card stock, felt the rough edges of the cards against his fingertips. It was an ancient and inefficient system, he thought, but a lot more stimulating.

The books on mythology were in a back corner of the library, far away from the front desk and the study tables.  Pete went back, looking up at all the books, with their plastic, protective wrappers. It had been years since he’d gone to an old school library with actual books. He spotted the book his was looking for— Mythologies of the Ancient World— and reached for it.

Damn! The book was on the top shelf. Too high for him. He looked around for a stool, got on his tippy toes, straining…

An arm slipped around his waist, and he felt hot breath in his ear as Brad whispered, “Need some help?”

“No,” Pete said, freezing.

Brad kissed him on the neck. “Come on. Don’t be like that.”

The skin where Brad had kissed him seemed to burn.  Pete put his hand over it. He didn’t know what to do or say. He couldn’t think. Brad maneuvered him forward, and then he felt Brad’s body pressing against his as Brad reached up and plucked the book from the top shelf. Brad lowered the book toward Pete, but when Pete reached for it, Brad plucked it away, holding it up in the air where Pete couldn’t reach it.

“Come on!” Pete said, grasping for the book, hopping, his chest heaving.

Brad chucked. “You want the book, give me a kiss.”

Pete felt himself flush. He stopped hopping. “No,” he said.

“You know you want to,” Brad said.

Pete’s mouth dropped open. “As if,” he said.

Brad held the book toward him. “A kiss for a book."

Pete hooked his hair behind his ear, planted a defiant fist on his hip. He glared at Brad, who stood there smirking. Maybe I should just give in, Pete started to think. I really need that book, and its just a kiss. He rolled his eyes. “Fine!” He huffed.

Brad’s triumphant smirk could have lit a stadium.

Pete tilted his head back, trying as hard as he could to seem disinterested, even as he felt his whole body enflamed with excitement. Brad stepped forward. Pete could feel the energy between them, the heat. Brad cupped his chin, tilted his head back.

“Ahem!” Miss Gretchen, the librarian said.

They jumped away from each other.

“There will be no public displays of affection!” Miss Gretchen whispered.

“I was just getting a book for this young lady,” Brad said, handing the book to Pete. “I don’t know what’s in your dirty mind.”

“Hmmpf,” Miss Gretchen huffed. “I know all about boys like you. Come,” she said, grabbing Pete’s wrist and dragging him from the aisle.

Pete allowed himself to be dragged away, but couldn’t resist glancing back at Brad, who blew him a mocking kiss. Jerk! Pete thought, tossing his hair. Who does he think he is?