Ki$$ & $ell

Ki$$ & $ell: Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

I was hoping that my after-school plans would consist solely of sleeping and dreaming of anything other than embarrassing myself on live TV, but I realized too late that I was mistaken. Instead, my mom ambushed me as I walked in the door. And from the look on her face, it was clear I wasn’t getting out of whatever she had planned.

            “I thought we could go through your closet and find an outfit that would be appropriate for your television debut,” Mom said. She already had her “serious therapist” glasses on, and was using the soft tone she usually reserved for her patients.

            I groaned and tried to make my way toward the stairs, hoping that if I acted like I hadn’t heard her, I could make it to the safety of my bed. Or maybe if I stalled long enough, she’d forget about it completely.

            No such luck. As I passed by, she grabbed the bag from my shoulder and set it down near the stairs, steering me toward the couch. Gently pushing me down onto its comfy cushions, Mom squinted her eyes and studied me. I began to squirm as she stared, wishing, for once, that I wasn’t an only child.

            “Now, given the topic of the segment, you should dress nicely, but still look your age,” Mom said, putting her fingers to her mouth thoughtfully. “A nice pair of slacks and a cardigan should do nicely.”

            I made a face. No kid my age wore slacks and a cardigan. Outside of private school at least. And that look certainly wasn’t going to earn me any bidders, despite whatever my mom thought.

I opened my mouth to say as much, but was interrupted as the front door burst open, and McCartney and Phin charged inside. Our living room was a descent size, yet almost immediately I began to feel claustrophobic. Like the walls were closing in on me. My heart started to race, and my breath caught in my throat, causing what I could only describe as sheer panic.

Looking around at everyone, I realized that it wasn’t the walls that were closing in on me—it was them.

            “She’s gonna be talking about kissing, Mrs. Sawyer,” McCartney argued with my mom as respectfully as she could. “We can’t have her dressing like a nun. She needs to wear something that’s gonna make the guys want to bid on her. Like a jean skirt and a halter.”

            “What’s a halter?” Phin asked, confused.

            “A top that goes like this,” McCartney said, gesturing in a V-motion around her neck and chest.

            “Oh, yeah, we like those,” Phin said, nodding enthusiastically.

            I scrunched up my face as he agreed. I so didn’t need Phin looking at me that way. It was just too…weird. And kind of gross. The halter was officially out.

            “Any other ideas?” I asked, crossing my arms and sighing.

            “The important thing is to feel confident in whatever you wear,” McCartney said, pushing forward. “Confidence is sexy.”

            “Kids, I’m not sure if ‘sexy’ is the vibe I want my daughter to put out there on national television, given the slightly scandalous topic,” Mom said, frowning.

            “My mom just said ‘vibe’ and ‘scandalous’ in the same sentence,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “Do you even know what those words mean?”

             

“You know what guys really like to see girls wearing?” Phin interrupted and moved over to my side. He placed his hands in the air with a flourish. “Sweats and a T-shirt.”