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What lengths would you go to, to help a pretty girl struggling with her past? Especially, if you knew there was the potential to be more than ‘just friends’?

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Barbie’s Doll
The Cotton Candy Wars

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
(All image originals sourced from Creative Commons)

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I look over at Jill. We are both in her living room, sprawled out on the floor, books scattered everywhere—working our way through our algebra homework and getting ready for the big test at the end of the week.

What? Who is Jill, you ask? Sorry—Jill Holiday. She is my best friend. Well, my only friend, to be honest. She lives next door to me and I have known her since, well, since I can remember, since we were both born here.

What? Me? Oh! Yeah, right. I am James Tiberius Alexander, III. Yeah, I come from a long line of nerds. I think that is partly why I don’t have any friends. The other part, well, I don’t like to talk about…

So, why do I have a girl as my best friend, you ask? Well, like I said—we’re neighbors. We have just known each other for so long that we are basically family to one another.

What? How long is that? Oh—well, I am going on sixteen and Jill is six months older than me. She is totally hot and has a steady boyfriend; we get along well enough, but I don’t count him as an actual friend--more of an ‘acquaintance’.

Oh, OK—I’ll tell you. You see, I’m nearly sixteen and haven’t had much luck with the puberty fairy. Yes, I am pretty sure, it has visited me. But you wouldn’t ever know it. Not like with Jill. Did I mention that she’s hot?

Now, I may not look like a jock, but I’m a guy. No, I am! Really!

Fine! Don’t trust me, then! I mean just because my best and only friend is one of the hottest and girly-girliest girls in school. And just because I have not bulked up and turned into some testosterone-bound hulk, doesn’t mean I’m not a guy!

You’ll see. Just wait!

Anyway, back to the story…

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I look over at Jill. We are both in her living room, sprawled out on the floor, books scattered everywhere—working our way through our algebra homework and getting ready for the big test at the end of the week.

I look back down in thought and tap my chin with my pencil, deep in thought. I throw out in a nonchalant voice, “You know that new girl, Barbara, right?”

She sighs and marks an answer, then says, “Barbie? Sure, she just moved in last week, but she seems nice enough. We sort of adopted her into our group—until we know if she will really fit in anyway.”

I shake my head. Girls and their posses…

“Do you think you could introduce me?” I am carefully looking at my book and not her. I mean I know I would never have a chance with this girl. She is as hot as Jill!

Jill giggles, “Seriously? You don’t know?”

I look up at her confused.

She shakes her head, “Sure. I can introduce you to her—but you need to know that she is only into girls. At least as far as I know. Plus, when did you become interested in girls?”

My face falls and I am quiet for a minute. I even answer another algebra question before I answer her.

“What do mean? I mean, I am interested in girls—I’m not gay. Not like her, I guess. What? Don’t give me that look. I am a guy!” I continue in a small voice, “Even if I don’t look like one.”

She throws her pencil at me and hits me squarely in the hand—perfectly with the eraser end. She can even throw a pencil better than me—I would have probably stabbed her in the eye with the sharp end, while aiming at the same spot she hit me in.

“James Tiberius Alexander, the Third! I can’t believe you just said that!” She continues her admonishment, “You are the sweetest boy I know! Greg could learn a lot from you!”

I know she means well, but that is the most crushing blow a hot girl can give a loser guy, like me—‘sweet’. It is the kiss of death in terms of ever being able to get a girl. Every guy in my position knows what I mean!

My face falls even further and she gives me a strange look. “What?” She asks in an exasperated tone.

I shake my head in silence.

She just dials up the intensity of her stare—she is approaching the ‘heavy stun’ setting. She will soon be at ‘kill’.

What? I told you that I come from a long line of nerds!

I shake my head and say, a bit more defensively than I intend, “That’s the kiss of death to a guy like me—a really hot girl calling me ‘sweet’. Kind of like your girlfriend breaking up with you and saying “it’s me—not you”.

She gets an angry look on her face, then it turns…confused, “Wait! You think I’m hot?”

Now it’s my turn to be confused. I nod and say, “Yeah. So? You are!”

She surprises me and comes over in a flurry of papers and gives me a huge hug, “Jimmy! That’s the nicest thing you have ever said to me! I had no idea… But, I wasn’t telling you that you’re sweet as a letdown. If I had known how you think about me before, I might not be with Greg, right now!”

I shake my head to clear out the explosions in it. “Huh?”

She smiles and says, “You are sweet—and clueless! Girls aren’t always looking for hulks. Sure, some are. Others appreciate the sweet guys. Trust me.”

She shakes her head at the same time I do.

She smiles, “We need to finish this up. I tell you what, I will talk to Barbie and see if there is any chance. How is that?”

I give her a non-committal shrug and nod as I turn back to my algebra. Inside, the fireworks are going off again.

What? I told you I’m a guy!

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I walk to Jill’s house after school the next day. Normally, we would meet at my house today, but she texted me a bit ago to see if it’s OK to meet at hers again. Of course, I don’t really care—it does seem a bit odd, though.

I knock on the door and just go in—like always. She does the same when she comes to my house. Like I said, we are basically family.

I take off my heavy coat and hang it in the hall closet. I inwardly curse as my long hair gets caught in the closet door. I am still not used to it.

What? Oh, it’s a long story. I have been growing it for a year now to be in the church Christmas Play—you know; guys in Jesus’s time. Mom had talked me into letting it grow instead of wearing a wig. I thought I was going to have a coronary when Dad agreed. He just winked and said he had done the same as a kid. I tried to picture him with shoulder-length hair—I couldn’t. Until Mom showed me a picture that is.

I open the door and pull out the strands of hair that had gotten caught and hear Jill call to me from the kitchen. I am surprised that we are studying in there, but shrug and walk around the corner—and come to a screeching stop. I mean I think you could hear the screeching of my rubber soles on the hardwood floor!

Barbara is sitting at the kitchen island with Jill.

My heart has stopped along with my feet and I just stand there like an idiot, my long hair still in one hand and me rubbing my scalp where I had pulled it with the other.

Barbara smiles, nervously, it seems, and says, “Wow! Jill, you’re right. He is sweet!”

Jill nods and looks at me, “Jimmy? Are you going to come say hi to Barbie? I think we have some studying to do?”

My heart beats and skips three before trying it again.

I nod. I look down to make sure I am not wearing a red shirt. Everyone knows the ones wearing red die first.

I walk, sort of zombie-like, to the kitchen island and Jill nods to the chair next to her—with her between me and Barbie.

She hands me a can of Diet Pepsi and says, “Jimmy, meet Barbie. Barbie, this is Jimmy. I will leave it up to you to tell him what you told me—or not.”

She sighs nervously and looks at me.

I am thoroughly confused now—along with totally nervous and ultra-shy.

She takes a sip of her Diet and licks her luscious lips, “Hi, Jimmie. It is nice to meet you. Jill speaks very highly of you. That…is important to me. Ummm…she misunderstood something I said a while back. About boys, that is. I am not…ummm…a lesbian. At least not that I know of…”

She takes another nervous sip of her Diet and her hand is shaking. Jill gives her a hug.

Barbie is looking at her can, then looks at me, fear in her eyes. I feel terrible and I don’t even know why.

She continues, “I had a…boyfriend…before we moved here. Umm…he was over at my house after school one day. My parents weren’t home and he wasn’t supposed to be. He surprised me and I let him in. I knew better, but he was my boyfriend.”

She is shaking really bad now. Jill hugs her tighter.

She says in a barely audible voice, “If my parents had not shown up when they did… He wouldn’t take no for an answer… He ripped my clothes off… My Dad pulled him off of me—just in time. He is now in juvie—that bastard, not my dad.”

She smiles a bit when she says that—a slight sparkle in her eye.

I feel like some puddle of evil goo just having a Y-chromosome.

She finishes, “I have gone through lots of therapy and am beginning to be able to talk about it. I have to find some humor about something when I do, though—or I just fall apart.”

Her hands aren’t shaking as badly now. “Anyway, I…can’t even fathom having a boyfriend, right now. Honestly, it is really hard even being in the same room with you, right now. You know, without…supervision. But, I trust Jill that you won’t…”

I shake my head vehemently, “Gosh, no! I would never! I mean, I’m so sorry! I…”

She shakes her head and smiles through the tears that she couldn’t stop, “I never thought that I would ever be in the situation of considering ‘#MeToo’-ing my boyfriend. You and Jill are the only ones here that know the whole story, now. We moved here, so I could get away from that history and I don’t want to dwell on it—I can’t dwell on it. And you are sweet, but I am not sure that I can handle even this, right now.”

Jill squeezes her hand and wipes away her own tears. She says, “Come with me, Barbie. We need to fix your makeup and talk a minute.”

She leads her away up to her room and I sit there in the kitchen—in total shock.

I have decided it is best for me to go back home and let them study when Jill comes back in, alone.

She looks at me and I say, “I think it’s best if I leave you two here alone to study. It’s obvious that she won’t get anything done with me here. To be honest, I am good after our session, yesterday—and we didn’t get any new problems today.”

She smiles at me and comes to give me a big hug. “You really are sweet, Jimmy. I’ll see you in school tomorrow, OK?”

I…hug her back and breathe in her perfume. I am surprised as can be when she gives me a big kiss on my cheek.

I walk back to my house—half in ecstasy and half in horror. Ecstasy for my first ‘kiss’ and horror at what Barbie had just revealed to me.

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As is usual at school the next day, I go through the day as a total loner. Of course, I see Jill and her posse, which now includes Barbie, but I don’t acknowledge them.

So, I am totally surprised when Jill comes over to me at lunch and whispers in my ear, “I have a plan for after school—if you are game. Barbie wants to study at my house again. Come over right after school—no need to change, or anything.”

She is gone back to her table before I have a chance to say a word. I notice Barbie look up at me and give me a shy, nervous smile. It is like a million candle-power spotlight hitting me!

I awkwardly smile back and look down at my food. I can’t help but wonder what this is all about!

I get off the bus with Jill. We ride the same bus, of course—we don’t ride together, though. She is always with the part of her posse that rides on our bus. As the bus driver closes the door behind us, she says, “Come on! Just come straight over. We don’t have a lot of time. Barbie’s mom is going to drop her off here in an hour to study—at our normal study time.”

I just look at her and follow her into her house, instead of going to mine to change out of our school uniform—the biggest thing that sucks about our school.

I expect her to go straight to her room to change out of her uniform: A skirt, blouse, silk neck-scarf, knee-high socks, and low-heeled Mary-Janes—the typical girl’s school uniform.

When she goes straight to the kitchen, instead, I say, “Go ahead and get changed, Jill. I have no idea why you wanted me over here this early, but you may as well get comfortable. I hope you don’t mind if I take my tie off, though!”

She giggles and says, “We’re studying in uniform today, but sure, take your tie off!”

I look at her confused.

She hands me a Diet and says, “OK, here’s the deal. Don’t worry, Barbs looked at me about the same way I expect you will be looking at me in a minute.”

I take my tie off and open the soda.

She continues, “My plan is make it so that Barbs is more comfortable with you being here. She needs our support, right now—and we need to keep up our grades. She is really smart and would be a great addition to our daily studying—not like the other girls in my clique, at all!”

I look at her and take a sip of my Diet, my eyes clearly conveying my exasperation.

She sighs, “Yeah, I’m stalling. I…think we should dress you in one of my school uniforms and…”

Diet Pepsi sprays throughout the kitchen. I can’t help it. I get choked and she has to slap my back hard to get me to breathe. I croak, still choking, “What?”

She shrugs, “Told you! Although, I think your look beat hers.”

She smiles crookedly, “Think about it, though, Jimmy. Your hair is longer than mine and…”

I groan, “And…?”

She continues with a sigh, “And you with your umm…non-hulk…figure, you could pull off looking like a girl. That will hopefully put Barbs’s mind at ease enough to study. Just think about it. It’s a great way to get closer to her and let her get to know you.”

“Great? As a girl? Are you crazy?” I have to fight really hard not to yell that last part.

She shrugs, “It’s completely up to you. Barbs didn’t think you would go through with it either. Although, she did see the benefits. I think she sort of likes you—she just isn’t back to trusting her feelings…yet.”

I groan. Much louder this time. I feel my face go red as I think about it—red from embarrassment at the thought of wearing a skirt. And redder from the possibility that Barbara…Barbie…Barbs might really like me.

I take a deep breath, “So… Let’s say I were to go along…”

She giggles and takes my hand and pulls me to her room. I haven’t been to her room in years—not since it was deemed inappropriate by our parents because of our age. It has changed—a lot. It is what I would sort of expect to see in a teenage girl’s room. Makeup and boy band posters and the such. The last time I was in here, there were still Barbies (the doll) and Little Ponies, and such on the shelves on the wall. Now, there are teen girl’s romance novels--tons of them.

I squeak out, “Should I be in here? I mean your parents…”

She shakes her head and says, “They’ll be fine with it—trust me.”

I look at her; the way she said that rings alarm bells. I ask, “And why is that?”

She shrugs as she starts pulling stuff out of her closet, “Because I asked Momma and she thinks it is really sweet of you to do this.”

My eyes bug out, “She knows? Wait! How did you know that I would…?”

She giggles and says, “Jimmy, I’ve know you my whole life. You are sweet—as a boy…and on Barbs. It was a no-brainer. But…I have to confess one more thing…”

My heart falls to my stomach.

She deals me the death blow, “My mom told yours…”

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