"Onstage? In our corsets? Did I hear you right, Miss Francis?" Skinny Alice piped up from the back of the class.
I pulled my sleeves over my hands, shrank into my chair, and glanced around the room. I wasn't the only one looking horrified. Miss Francis flapped her hands at us, confusion at our lack of enthusiasm written across her furrowed brow.
"All right," she said. "Don't panic. The idea is you'll wear them over something. It's one of the conditions—no more skin than you'd see in a PE class. Surely we can manage that? Come on, guys! Let's get creative. How great is it to show off your work to the rest of the school? This is the first time they've let us include your projects, and I'm proud of you, I want everyone to see how brilliant you are."
Tommo pulled up his T-shirt and ran a hand over his rock-hard stomach, saying, "Well, I'm up for it." He held up the scrap of fabric he'd designed to lace tightly round a girl's body. "I might have to add some longer laces, though ..."
It was all right for him, he could make a joke of it. It wasn't the same for the rest of us, was it?
"Thank you, Tommo. I had hoped the rest of you might be a bit more enthusiastic," Frankie went on, "because there's something else. A scout for the lingerie team at H&S is coming, and they might select one of you to enter their internship program this summer."
She beamed at our still-stunned faces. "I know! It's brilliant, isn't it?"
It was both brilliant and terrible. A summer internship, if I had any chance of getting it, was months away. After my birthday. If I didn't find a way to stay, I wouldn't be here, would I? I picked up one of my half-finished poppies, my hands trembling and slick from the cream I'd slathered on. As I tried to extract the needle I'd left in it, it slipped and stabbed me.
"Ow!" A warm bead of blood swelled fatly on my thumb. My brain flooded with thoughts: How much of that blood was mine? How much was the new Teva's? Was she already there, floating under my skin, under my consciousness? My heart began to pound, sweat gathered in my armpits, but fear turned to something else.
My jaw tightened. There was no way I was prancing about onstage for her—the new me—to get all the benefit. Unless I stopped her, unless ... The anger blooming in me was swept with a sudden shot of guilt as I realized ... that's how Fifteen felt about me—all the work she'd done for our exams, just for me to take over. Frustrated tears trickled down my cheeks. I dashed them away and sucked the blood off my thumb. The iron tang mingling with the medical, greasy cream left a nasty taste in my mouth. I jabbed my needle viciously into the delicate flower. Angry with myself, angry with the new Teva, angry with everything still to come.
As I tried to pull the needle back through, the thread puckered behind the flower and caught in an ugly knot. I threw it on the table with a growl. Tommo turned to me and noticed the tears. "Come on, it's not that bad—it could be fun. Hey, I could lace our corsets together and model them both. I have the power."
He pulled up his sleeve and flexed his biceps. As the muscle bulged, heat seeped up my neck. I couldn't help the tiny smile that crept into the corners of my mouth. Tommo tipped his head toward mine and whispered, "You can have a feel if you like."
A laugh burst from me and I slapped him on the arm. A vision of Ollie sprang guiltily into my head, and I sat up a bit straighter in my chair. Tommo said, "The H&S thing is a really great opportunity—imagine how good it could look on your applications."
"You imagine how good it would look on your applications."
He shrugged. "I've already got something lined up this summer, with the Navy cadets."
My mouth squeezed together—I wanted to say something encouraging but I couldn't trust myself to speak. I wanted so badly to have a future. Something to dream about, something to hope for. I just nodded.
"You should go for it," Tommo said. "Your work is amazing, seriously."
"I don't know," I managed to croak. "I haven't really thought about what I'm going to do with my ..."
I stopped. I wanted to say life but I wasn't going to have one, was I? My thoughts spun off. What could I do? If the others were right about doctors, what could I clutch at? Could my lame idea of a blog really help?
Tommo said, "If you don't give it a go, you'll never know, will you?" He was right, and not just about the H&S visit. I looked down at the piece I was making and tried to say something that made sense.
"Yeah, maybe ... I wonder if Mads would be my model?"
"That's my girl," said Tommo, putting an arm around my shoulders, crushing me into his side, just as Ollie walked past the classroom.
I jerked away.
Tension flowered in my chest. Had he seen? Ollie had a bit of a problem with Tommo; all the boys did. They liked him, but they didn't like how easy he was with girls. Ollie would go crazy if he thought Tommo was flirting with me. Or worse, that I was flirting with Tommo. Something in me retreated. Dimly, like I was far away, separated, I watched Tommo hand his portfolio to Miss Francis. I watched her pull out sheets and sheets of sketches, notes, fabric swatches, pattern details.
As I watched, I scratched at the table with my index finger and thought about Six peeling the wallpaper, leaving a lovely, clean space. If only you could do that to your life, peel away the layers and leave something clean and ...
"Teva? Hello? Earth calling Teva."
I dragged myself back to reality.
"Sorry, Miss Francis, sorry, I was just thinking I ..."
"It's fine, I just want to look at the work in your folder."
I pulled my portfolio closer and let Miss Francis slide out the practically empty sheets of paper that should, by now, have been covered with my assessment work.
She wasn't happy. She sucked in her top lip and said, "Are you struggling with this, Teva?"
I shrugged. I was having a hard time concentrating, my mind stuffed with the extra worry that Ollie had seen me tucked under Tommo's arm. I looked at her blankly—Was I struggling? Did she want to have a go at living my life for a bit? Sometimes, it felt ridiculous that I had to worry about normal things on top of all the other stuff.
"Your garment is good, but you have to back it up with portfolio work or you won't get the grades you deserve."
She waited, but what could I say? Part of me wished she'd push harder, force me to tell her the truth, but she just said, "If there's nowhere for you to work at home, you can come in here at lunchtime, if that helps."
Space to work was so far down the list of things that would help it was off the page. My phone beeped.
"Sorry, that's my alarm, I've got to go—my appointment."
Frankie sighed. "Go on, then. But we need to sort this out, Teva. I'm not going to let you waste six months' work."
"Hey, Tee," said Tommo, flourishing a bunny tail at me, "you can come over to my place if you like, we can work together."
Frankie patted Tommo's folder. "That's a good idea, Teva, you should take him up on that. Tom has done some really excellent work."
I grabbed my stuff and bolted from the room so fast I barely had time to give an apologetic smile. What a terrible idea. Ollie would lose his mind. The last thing I needed was more problems.
