Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1)

by Brittney Musick

  thesillywallflower : So, do people actually call you Jack or is that just for the sake of the screen name?

  jackyourhart : My family sometimes calls me Jack or Jacks. My brothers like to tease me by calling me Jackie.

  thesillywallflower : At least that’s better than Silly.

  jackyourhart : I think Silly’s a cute nickname.

  thesillywallflower : I guess it would be since Skylar coined it when she was three.

  jackyourhart : Really?

  thesillywallflower: Yeah, she couldn’t say Cecilia, and Luke already called Skylar Sissy, so I got stuck with Silly.

  jackyourhart : I think it suits you.

  thesillywallflower: Because I’m such a ridiculous spaz?

  jackyourhart: No. I think it’s ironic because you’re not silly at all.

  I sat back in my seat, blinking at Jackson’s words. It was like déjà vu. I remembered writing something along the same lines in the paper Miss Barkley assigned before school started. Apparently, I did understand irony in the context of my own name, but, more importantly, Jackson didn’t think I was an idiot.

  I didn’t know what to say to that, but, thankfully, he’d moved on already.

  jackyourhart : So things are crazy at your house because your mom has a job?

  thesillywallflower : So it would seem. I think my dad’s just afraid he’s going to starve, and Luke and Skylar are helpless. Or hopeless. Or maybe just lazy. I’m not sure which.

  jackyourhart : And you?

  thesillywallflower : Honestly, I’m fine with it. I know it’ll take some adjusting. Like, right now, it’s so quiet around here. It’s kind of creepy, but only because I’m so used to my mom being around all the time.

  jackyourhart : I’m sure you’re right. Change isn’t a bad thing.

  thesillywallflower : Oh, I know. Someone just needs to send the memo to the rest of the family.

  jackyourhart : I’m sure they’ll live.

  thesillywallflower: I know.

  jackyourhart : So, is it safe to guess that your screen name is a reference to The Perks of Being a Wallflower?

  thesillywallflower : Yes, that would be a safe assumption. ;)

  jackyourhart: Speaking of books, I thought of one. Have you read The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown?

  thesillywallflower : I have not, but I’ve been meaning to.

  jackyourhart : I think you should definitely give it a shot if you like mysteries.

  thesillywallflower : As it happens, I do. I’ll have to check it out.

  I wanted to say more, but the sound of the front door pulled me out of my Jackson enthralled conversation. I glanced at the clock. It was only half past four, so I knew it probably wasn’t Dad. Reluctantly, I realized my conversation with Jackson was probably over for the evening.

  thesillywallflower : I think my mom’s home. I should probably go and see how her first day of work went.

  jackyourhart : Okay, cool. I’ll see you around.

  thesillywallflower : Yep, see ya!

  I signed off of AIM with a smile on my face and practically floated down the stairs. I found Mom in the kitchen, kicking off her shoes by the door that let out into the garage.

  I asked her how her day went and tried to pay attention, but if anyone asked, I wouldn’t have been able to relay her answers. My thoughts were still on Jackson.

  Wednesday, November 8th, 2006

  Hazel eyes meet green;

  With cheeks pink and heart pulsing,

  I stammer, “hello.”

  A kind, open smile

  Steals my breath and breaks the spell.

  Words spill out.

  Nonsensical talk

  Leaves me longing for escape;

  Shamed feet won’t move.

  Musical laughter

  Eases the sting, but leaves scars

  On my tender heart.

  He’s unaware

  Butterflies swoop deep within;

  For, he stole my heart.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I fully believed life had a twisted sense of humor. People always talked about how life had a way of working things out, but sometimes it was really hard to believe—especially after you’ve hoped, wished and prayed for something only to see no results. Sometimes it felt like the genie went on strike the day you rubbed on its bottle and your three wishes were ignored, or the genie simply said, “Nope, you’re denied. Definitely not happening. You’re just not important enough today.”

  As ridiculous as it might have sounded, that was essentially how I felt about my body. While other girls had been blessed with bosoms and curves, I felt as though my body still resembled that of a child. I longed for the changes that would make my body appear distinctly female, rather than androgynous.

  Mom kept telling me I would hit a growth spurt and everything else would fill out in the process. “Don’t rush it, Silly,” she said. “It’ll happen when the time is right.”

  I’d been waiting since I was twelve and was nearly to the point of believing I’d forever resemble a prepubescent boy without the help of cosmetic surgery when it finally happened. Without any warning. I went to bed one night, nearly two weeks after my fifteenth birthday, and woke up the next morning feeling like I’d been hit by a freight train.

  My whole body ached as I sat up in bed and swung my feet over the side. Instead of hanging a few inches above the floor, my feet actually touched the carpet. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I stood and crossed the room to the mirror that hung on the back of my closet door. From the way I felt, I half expected to find myself covered in unexplainable bruises. Instead, I discovered that, apparently, I’d grown boobs overnight.

  I kept rubbing my eyes trying to make sure I wasn’t just hallucinating the whole thing, but I most definitely wasn’t. Anyone else probably wouldn’t have even been able to tell the difference. I was wearing my favorite oversized nightshirt, but the subtle sloping in the chest area was definitely new.

  I grabbed the sides of the shirt and pulled it taut against my front, where the changes were even more obvious. Just to be safe, I grabbed one of my bras and pulled it on and could immediately feel the difference. It was way too tight; making my chest feel like it was suffocating, I quickly removed that bra. Because I simply couldn’t believe it had finally happened, I wound up trying on all of the bras I usually wore only to meet the same problem: none of them fit.

  Once the initial shock and excitement settled in, I was faced with the problem of finding something to wear. The idea of going without a bra felt awkward, so I even tried on the one sports bra I had in my possession. I never wore it because I’d felt like it only succeeded in making my chest look flatter. Once I pulled it on, though, I was suddenly thankful for its existence. It was a little tight around, but I wasn’t spilling out of it like I had with the other bras.

  The other problem I found was that all of my fitted shirts were way too tight, and my previously loose shirts were now fitted. But I hadn’t just grown out; I’d also grown up, so my pants were suddenly too short. After some digging, I finally found some terry knit pants that were a little long when I bought them. They were several years old, though, so they felt snug at the waist, but, thankfully, they stretched and they didn’t make me look like I was waiting for the next great flood. I also managed to find a shirt—that didn’t look like a second skin—that matched the pants.

  Despite my clothing dilemma, I was still extremely happy. Even though the sports bra didn’t do much in the way of flattery, I kept looking at myself sideways in the mirror as I got ready for school. I also thought I looked thinner than I had before.

  While I wasn’t a chronic dieter like Skylar, I’d always had a little pouch in my midsection that never seemed to want to flatten out. It definitely wasn’t anything I fretted over enough to give up sweets or fatty foods, but it seemed as if the stretching of the length of my body made the pouch disappear. In fact, despite still being too short, all of the pants I tried on hung lower on my hips.

  O
nce I realized how vain I was being, I tore myself away from in front of the mirror and went downstairs. Immediately, I cornered Mom, who was busy moving around the kitchen, juggling scrambling eggs, frying bacon and tying her hair back in a bun. My first instinct was to warn her she was going to shed into the food, but since I knew I was in desperate need of new clothing, I didn’t want to do anything to make her mad.

  That plan didn’t work out so well. Mom seemed distracted as I shadowed her movements around the kitchen while trying to talk to her. Her attention seemed to be somewhere beyond the kitchen, and every time she turned around I was in the way.

  Finally, she sighed in exasperation. “What do you need, Cecilia?” The use of my full name was proof of her annoyance.

  Instead of my voice coming out confident and excited, my tone was meek as I said, “I finally got the growth spurt you kept promising me I’d get.”

  Mom paused from flipping bacon to really look at me for the first time that morning. She looked me up and down, and while she examined my claim, I realized I was now just a couple of inches shy of her height instead of being half a foot shorter.

  Apparently noticing the new snugness of my attire, she stated the obvious, “You need new clothes.”

  “More specifically, I need a new bra,” I said, pointing at my newly acquired breasts.

  “I can see that.” A small smile played at the corners of her mouth, and the amusement was clear in her green eyes. She walked over to the far counter where her purse was sitting and dug around inside for a moment before she pulled out her billfold. She counted out some bills before she walked back over to me and handed me the stack.

  “Here’s some money. I’ll ask Skylar to take you to the mall after school.” I stared at the stack of bills as she spoke. “Try to get an outfit or two. Look for stuff that’s on sale, and I’ll take you shopping for more this weekend. We can get your birthday presents then too.”

  “Okay,” I nodded, stuffing more money than I could ever remember possessing into my pocket. “Thanks.”

  “Mmm hmm,” she hummed as she returned her attention back to breakfast. This was the first time since she’d gone back to work that she’d taken the time to make breakfast. We’d had bagels, muffins, and pop tarts since Monday. The bacon and eggs smelled fabulous and my stomach gurgled in anticipation. If Mom was good at one thing, it was breakfast foods.

  With my piece said, Mom had obviously dismissed me. With money burning a hole in my pocket, I couldn’t be too upset. I shrugged and crossed to the refrigerator. I took out the orange juice and poured myself a large glass of it. Just as I was about to put the carton back in the refrigerator, Luke swept into the room and grabbed it. He opened the top and started drinking straight from the carton. I made a face as Mom turned just in time to witness his actions.

  “Lucas Sawyer Granger! How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” she scolded.

  “There’s not a lot left,” Luke shrugged. “I’m going to finish the carton.”

  “I don’t care,” Mom said through clenched teeth. “You are not an animal. Use a glass.”

  “Fine,” Luke sighed. “That just means more dishes for you to wash.”

  “Excuse me, mister,” Mom glared. “You’re perfectly capable of putting dishes into the dishwasher. I suggest you do that as soon as you get home from school tonight.”

  “But mom—” Luke began.

  “Do whatever your mother told you to do.” Dad had just entered the room. He looked thoroughly unconcerned. Probably due to the fact he had no idea what was going on, but he and Mom were usually pretty good about backing each other up. It wasn’t especially fun to be on the receiving end of the tag team, but after the way they’d circled each other for the last week, it was nice to see them agreeing for once.

  Luke made a face but didn’t say anything as he crossed the room and got a glass out of the cabinet. He poured the remaining orange juice into said glass before he threw away the carton while Mom handed me a plate of bacon and eggs and motioned for me to go sit at the table. I took my plate and orange juice and sat down in my usual seat.

  Mom handed Luke a plate and then pointed to another and told Dad, who was busy fixing his morning coffee, it was for him. I felt envious of his coffee. I didn’t understand how he could drink it black, but the smell of it always set my taste buds on edge. Of course, my parents always sent me disapproving looks if I reached for a coffee mug. I suspected they thought it would make me hyper, but it didn’t. I drank coffee when I stayed at Tegan’s and was perfectly fine.

  Mom, Dad and Luke paraded into the dining room a minute later, and we all started to dig into our breakfast. Dad was, of course, reading the morning paper while he ate, and Luke barely came up for air as he shoveled food into his mouth. After a few minutes, Mom asked, “Where’s Skylar?”

  As if on cue, she hurried into the room. She didn’t bother to speak to anyone. Clearly she was running a little late this morning. She was normally the first one downstairs for breakfast.

  She grabbed her plate and fixed herself a cup of coffee—heavy on the sugar and cream. Dad, when he was paying attention, usually asked, “Would you like some coffee with your cream and sugar?”

  My coffee envy only increased as Skylar sat down beside me and the rich scent became stronger. For a mutinous moment, I considered getting up to fix myself a cup, but I decided that was a battle for another day; a day when I didn’t have a wad of cash in my pocket that Mom could easily demand back.

  It seemed Skylar’s diet had been lifted because she dug into the bacon and eggs without complaining about how fattening they were. Like Mom, she seemed somewhat distracted, so it took a moment for the question to sink in when Mom asked, “Sky, would you mind taking Silly to the mall after school today?”

  From the look on her face, it was plain she did mind very much, but the look on Mom’s face said the only right answer was a positive one. Skylar sighed and nodded her agreement.

  The rest of breakfast was quiet except for Dad’s typical complaints about something he read in the paper. No one seemed to notice anything different about me, but I wasn’t really expecting them to. After all, it was okay for Mom to discern my chest was bigger, but it just would’ve been creepy for Luke or Dad to notice. As for Skylar, she was always too self-absorbed to observe anything about anyone else unless it would affect her directly, and I didn’t think my breasts would have any bearing in her life, or at least hoped they wouldn’t, so she paid me no mind as usual.

  Tegan, on the other hand, immediately noticed something was different when we met up at school. At first, she just stared at me, as if working out a puzzle. Then she snapped her fingers and pointed at me with a grin. “You’re taller,” she exclaimed.

  “How could you tell?” I wondered.

  “We’re the same height,” she said. “Did you get new shoes?”

  I shook my head, grinning, and explained about my morning of discovery. She glanced at my chest briefly before she blushed and looked away, but I simply laughed.

  “Well, congratulations,” she chuckled.

  “You’re just happy you won’t have to hear me complaining about being as flat as a pancake,” I teased.

  Tegan shrugged but didn’t protest. I would have been offended if I weren’t so happy.

  I invited her to come shopping with Skylar and I after school, but she had horseback riding after school. Tegan’s palomino, Buttercup, was fully boarded at a stable a couple of towns over, which was fine most of the time, but Tegan didn’t get to go riding as much during the winter, so I knew she was trying to take full advantage before the weather turned.

  Because the facility was out in the country, the roads were sometimes bad and weren’t always plowed well. Tegan and Tierney got stuck in a ditch on their way home last winter. Luckily, Tierney had her cell phone with her and was able to call for help. Otherwise, they probably would have been stranded there for hours.

  After school, Skylar and I went straight to t
he mall. She didn’t seem as annoyed about taking me shopping as she’d been that morning during the ride to school. The mood shift wasn’t that surprising since Skylar usually loved shopping. I suspected most of her paychecks were blown on new clothes even though Dad was always saying to her and Luke, “You should put at least half of every paycheck into your savings account.”

  “I don’t see why it matters to him. As long as my car insurance and other bills are paid, it’s none of his concern,” I heard her ranting to Stevie once. “It’s my money and I’ll spend it however I want.”

  Our first stop in the mall was Victoria’s Secret because getting a new bra was top priority. Even though I thought their bras were kind of expensive, I was able to have one of the sales women measure me and figure out what size I needed to look for.

  It was kind of awkward, letting a stranger measure around my chest, and I flushed scarlet when Skylar joked, “That’s probably the closest you’ve ever come to being felt up.”

  Thankfully, she didn’t make that snide comment until after the sales lady was gone, but I was certain my face wouldn’t return to its natural color for days.

  There were too many styles to choose from, but, despite her rude comments, Skylar did help me look. She recommended the Secret Embrace style, and we were able to find a couple on sale in ivory and cherub pink. I was ready to go and pay then, but Skylar insisted, “You have to get matching panties.”

  “Why? My underwear still fit just fine,” I shrugged.

  “Silly, come on, think about it,” Skylar said, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re single right now, but before long you’re going to have a boyfriend—he’ll probably be just as weird as you—but, undoubtedly, he’ll have a libido just like every other guy. You don’t want to go out and get hot and heavy with him and be in underwear that don’t match, do you?”