by Julie Solano
Pistol:
You didn’t get your dress yet did you?
Me:
I think I just found it. It’s super cute.
Pistol:
Well, I hope you don’t dress like a mom. I want to see those killer legs. Make it short, tight, and preferably red or black. Those are the colors I look best in.
Wow! Now I have to dress in the colors HE looks best in? What ever happened to Homecoming formal being the girls’ night? Disappointment tackles my excitement when I realize the gorgeous, coral dress I just found isn’t going to fly with Pistol. Red is way too slutty for me, so I guess I’m going to try to find something in black. It’s a good thing the cupcake dress didn’t work for Jenna. At least we won’t have to go as twins.
Me:
Okay, I’ll see what I can find. Thanks again for going with me. I miss you Dimples.
Pistol:
I miss you too. You owe me doll. I’ll collect Saturday night;)! I’ll pick you up at your house around 7.
I put my phone back in my purse and take off the gown. Jenna is already dressed and waiting for me. “Hey Jenna, I think I changed my mind on this.” I open the door and hand her the dress. “Will you go see if they have it in black? And maybe shorter? And possibly tighter? And not so flowy?”
“So basically, the opposite of this dress? Like maybe something Chelsea would wear?”
“Ya, just think I might try a little change.”
“Okay; but that one’s amazing. Give it to me and I’ll go look while you get dressed,” Jenna is hesitant to take the dress.
Just as I finish buttoning my jeans, I hear the rush of feet and a quick tapping on my dressing room door. “Shhhh, let me in, let me in . . . quick.”
I swing the door open and pull Jenna inside. She shoves two beautiful little dresses into my hand. “Here . . . these are perfect for us . . . black for you, and coral for me since you didn’t like it. . .” A sense of urgency dominates her tone.
“What’s going on? Is there a stick up in the lingerie department or something?” I joke.
Jenna throws her hand over my mouth and holds her index finger over her lips whispering, “Lower your voice, I don’t want them to know we’re here.”
“Who?”
Whispering so softly it’s barely audible, Jenna smirks, “Chelsea and some cowgirl sidekick. They’re out there looking at dresses for the dance. I got an idea.” The look of mischief creeps its way across Jenna’s face.
“Oh, goodness Jenna, you and your ideas.” I’m a little scared, cuz there’s no telling what that girl has up her sleeve. Or in this case, in her purse!
“What is that?” I accidentally speak with a little too much volume, when I see Jenna pull out a plastic baggie of shiny green leaves. “Are you crazy bringing that in here?”
“It’s not what you think it is. You know I wouldn’t do that. Look closer.”
She holds the baggie up to my face and I see the very familiar three-leaved bunches of tiny oak-looking leaves. “Holy crap, Jenna! What are you doing with that? Haven’t you had enough britch-itch lately?”
“It’s not for me, Dingbat. I grabbed some from the bonfire to show my parents what it looks like, and never threw it away . . . thought it might come in handy sometime. Looks like today’s the lucky day.”
An incredulous look grows on my face as I question her, “So what’s your plan? Smoke her out of the boutique so she can’t get a dress?”
“Better . . . we hide in the dressing room and figure out how to get this,” she shakes the bag, “all over the inside of her perfect dress!”
I’m in shock at Jenna’s audacity. This might be a little over the top, even for her.
“Shhh . . . I think I hear them coming . . . Kaitlyn, jump up on the bench so they only see one pair of feet.”
We can hear Chelsea and mystery cowgirl approach with the assistant.
“Okay, girls, if you need any more styles or sizes, just let me know and I’ll see if I can find them for you,” the assistant unlocks the door allowing Chelsea in.
I see a huge bundle of dresses fling over the dressing room wall right into our stall. Jenna gets a huge smile on her face and gives me a thumbs up, “Perfect!” she mouths, trying to stifle a giggle.
“I don’t know Jenna,” I grimace, “I’m not sure I can go through with this.”
“Oh, grow a pair, Kaitlyn,” Jenna sneaks a peek through the crack and looks back at me, “Come here . . . I want you to see this dress her friend is holding up. It’s hideous,” she’s bobbing up and down muffling a fake, quiet laugh.
I quietly sneak down off the bench and tiptoe over to the door. Peeking through the crack, I see a voluptuous, blonde cowgirl holding up a sleazy, satin, red dress, with just enough fabric to cover a toddler at a beauty pageant. The girl holding the dress looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her. I hear them begin to speak.
“I found the perfect dress for you, Chelsea. It just screams Queen. Didn’t you say you love red?”
“Awesome,” she claps her hands, “That’s my favorite color; bring it in here CJ.”
CJ? Oh my gosh . . . Is that Roping Partner CJ? That’s where I recognize her from . . . the picture. I’m stunned. What is she doing with Chelsea?
I see the red dress flop on top of the pile encroaching on our stall.
“Here, take this back. It’s too cutesy and flowy . . . reminds me of that annoying Goody-Two-Shoes, Kaitlyn Woodley.”
“Like, Pistol’s Kaitlyn? I’ve heard she’s a little on the conservative side. Ya, you wouldn’t want to wear that dress . . . it has virgin written all over it.”
My brow lifts, mouth drops, and then I slam it shut. I’m searching for words as I nod my head and shake my finger in the air. The first thing that comes out of my mouth is, “Game on Jenna . . . Give me at least half of that darned bag! I’m ready to give that cat something to scratch!”
“Now you’re talking,” Jenna gives me a soft high five, and we get closer to the crack in the door to see if we can figure out how we’re going to make this happen.
While we’re huddled next to the crack, we hear the girls continue their conversation. Chelsea’s annoying voice speaks up first, “Speaking of Kaitlyn, I hear she’s taking Pistol to the dance. If you decide to go on a double date with us, it could be your chance to make your move . . . You know, let him see you without your boots and hat.”
“But I don’t even know this guy, Ty, you want me to go with . . . It’s kinda weird,” CJ whines.
“Well, you’re not really going to have fun with HIM. He’s a typical jock. He’s gonna be grinding with tons of girls. The plan is to get Pistol,” Chelsea schemes. “Look, I know you guys have been messing around a little, but wait til he sees you looking all sexy standing next to Kaitlyn in her nun habit. He’ll drop her for sure.”
“You’re right . . . I’m in,” CJ replies.
“What a hellcat! Did she really just say that? And Ty? Like my Ty?” Jenna mouths back to me with an incredulous look plastered on her face.
I’m standing in disbelief, shaking my head, ready to hit something. “I’m going out there right now!” I mouth, pointing to the door.
“Stop! As much as I want to go with you, we can’t.” She mouths back, shaking her head “no” and moving her hand side to side in a “cut it out” gesture. “It will ruin everything. We’re going to get them good Kaitlyn. The only ones who are going to be sexy Friday night are you and me. They’re going to look like they were on the receiving end of a cat’s scratching post! I don’t care who ends up with poison oak, I’m taking this bag to every freakin’ short, tight, barely-there, slutty dress I see . . . starting with all of the ones laying right here.”
“Well, let’s try ours on first. We need to make sure that stuff doesn’t touch them.” We try on the cute little dresses Jenna threw at me. They are tight, gorgeous, and accentuate our impeccably sculpted swimmers’ legs . . . Perfect to combat C.ow J.aw and Mufasa.
“W
e’ll see who looks like a nun . . . Let’s do this,” Jenna, opens the baggie, and begins to carefully rub the inside of each dress invading our stall. She works from top to bottom, making sure her hand doesn’t touch the contaminated fabric.
“I get to do some too,” I take the bag from her hand. Knowing it’s probably her final choice, I make sure to rub the red dress thoroughly inside and out.”
We quickly make our way out to the slut-dress rack, and slyly begin to rub the inside of the baggie on the first victims. I hold each dress up, pointing out embellishments and cute details, while Jenna slides the exposed leaves across the chest and skirt of each one nodding her head and saying, “Oh ya,” and “Mmmhmmm.” After several minutes, our mission is accomplished, and we head to the clerk to buy our dresses. It’s a quick transaction and Chelsea Cat and Daisy Duke never even see us in there.
When we break free of our little crime spree we double over laughing. “I’m gonna pee my pants!!!” Jenna snorts.
“You’re brilliant Jenna, but we’re taking this one to our graves. This Homecoming dance is going to live in infamy.”
IT’S BEEN FOUR DAYS, AND most of our poison oak has cleared now. We’re looking pretty decent, unlike the cheerleading squad and the rest of Chelsea’s litter, whose faces all look like diaper rash. Yes, it’s quite a mysterious epidemic that’s plagued the halls of Jefferson this last week. No one has been able to figure it out. The principal finally got Mr. Pine to collect some cultures to see if he can pinpoint what it is. Chelsea, happily volunteered for the swabbing by Mr. P. Fortunately, I have a great, poison oak-free poker face, and Jenna got called out of town again, to finish whatever it was she had to do in Sacramento. There’s no way she would’ve been able to conceal our secret. She totally would’ve claimed the glory had she watched Chelsea and the Cha Cha girls using the guys as human scratching posts and grinding in their laps at lunch and snack breaks. Hopefully, no one will suspect the dresses before the dance. However, right now, we’re completely preoccupied getting ready for the “Miner Pit” party.
We are pumped for tonight’s game. Our swim coach has never let us out of practice early for Homecoming, but since the majority of the team are seniors, he decided he’d cut us some slack and let us enjoy our last one. It’s the first year we’ll actually have enough time to dry our hair and put on make-up. “I can’t believe we finally get to go to Homecoming on time! This is so exciting! I’m not going to look like a poodle this year!” I cheerfully call to Jenna who’s going through my closet to pick out a cute red, black, and gold outfit. When she emerges she looks adorable. She’s got on a black t-shirt with a red Miner’s logo, and a gold sequined headband. It’s basically the same outfit I’m wearing, but in the opposite colors. We laugh when she steps out of the closet looking like my twin.
Caught up in the spirit of the evening, we dance around the room and make faces at each other in the mirror as we put the final touches on our makeup. We’ve slathered our cheeks with red and gold glittered spirit streaks, straightened and curled our hair, and we both look smokin’ hot. We are jumping around and acting like dorks, when I pull my hair brush up to my mouth. I can never resist singing into my hairbrushes and curling irons. It’s one of my signature moves while getting ready. Changing the lyrics to the Party Rock Anthem, I sing to Jenna, “Poison oak is in the house tonight . . . but you and I are gonna have a good time, this itch will make them lose their mind, Mountain Kitty has to scratch her behind. . . hahahaha,” we start cracking up. As the song continues, we both start bouncing up and down in the mirror, singing, “ Every day they’re itching, itching, itching.”
Jenna adds, “Now we see them twitchin’ . . . twitchin’ . . . twitchin.’”
We’ve been having so much fun having a curling iron concert and re-writing lyrics, that time has flown by. When Jenna looks at the clock, she’s a little shocked. “You may want to stop singing into your brush and use it on your hair. We only have five minutes til they open the gates. We are not missing the mine-shaft entrance this year. I love the part where the boys carry the pick axe through the shaft and plant it center field for luck. It’s so hot.”
At Jefferson High, it’s become tradition to keep a wooden mineshaft near the visitor’s bleachers. It acts as an entrance for the team, which comes running up from the locker room, through the shaft, and out to the field. The entire cheerleading squad, pep band, and pit crew, which would consist of all the crazy teenagers that rock the game, all form two long single file lines that guide the boys to the center of the field. They run through the shaft and crowd, giving high fives, hollers, and chest bumps to get them pumped up and ready to kick booty. It’s a fun way to begin the game; however, Jenna and I typically miss this tradition due to our strict swim coach. We are stoked that we get to be there tonight.
“Ya, I can’t wait to watch the Caden-Brody dream team. Dad says they are unstoppable. They are so in tune with each other; it’s obvious they’ve been playing together since their Pop Warner days. This should be really fun to watch. . . though, I’m still super aggravated with Brody,” I add. “I can’t get over the fact that he’s taking Hello Kitty to the dance tomorrow night.”
“It’s not like he wants to take her, Kaitlyn. It was pretty obvious to me that she wasn’t his top choice. You really didn’t give him another option,” Jenna defends Brody. “Have you even talked to him?” she asks.
“Well, I got a couple missed calls, but I haven’t responded. I’m avoiding him til I can figure out what to say.”
“That’s not very nice.” Jenna reprimands.
“Wow, Jenna. Mom always taught me that if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Whose side are you on anyway?” I pick up a pillow from my bed and playfully toss it at Jenna.
She dodges the pillow and lets it fly through the open door. Giggling, she responds, “I’m not on a side Kaitlyn. I just want what’s best for both of you. And to me . . . that would be . . .”
“Don’t even go there,” I slam my hand across her mouth. “I have a boyfriend. Brody and I could never work.” An image of Brody and Caden using my first training bra as a sling shot comes to mind. “Ummm, we know way too much about each other. Besides, you’ve seen how Caden feels about Brody and me. He would lock me in a closet and then go and snap Brody in half. I don’t want to be responsible for breaking up the dream team and derailing the road to sections this year. I don’t want to hear another word about this.”
She shakes her head at me, “Fine, it’s time to head out anyway, but this is not a closed topic.”
We are almost at the field, when we stop the car for a litter of cheerleaders crossing the street to get to the game. Once they’re across, we watch as they rub all over each other, walking back to back, and stopping every few feet to bob up and down. If they could only see how weird this looks to the random observer. “I’m sure they’re scratching, but lord knows if I’m right,” I chuckle at Jenna. “They may just love skin to skin contact.”
As we drive past the field, I peek through the chain link fence to see that the crowd is insane. We have to park all the way down at the high school parking lot across the street, and walk up to the game. When we get to the crosswalk, the football team is jogging from the high school over to the field, but I try to avert all eye contact as they pass by us, just in case Brody is among them. I am relieved when they cross to the locker room without incident. “Good luck tonight, Dad,” I shout as I see my dad trailing behind them as he looks over plays.
“Thanks Honey, you know if you want to come down, you can always help with stats.”
“Thanks Dad!” HECK No, I’m not going to miss Homecoming pit for anything. I think to myself.
Once we’re inside, we get our free Miner cowbells, buy some pom poms and bangers, and head for the pit. Even if the cheerleaders are so preoccupied with scratching that they can’t get the crowd pumped up, we’re gonna make sure we bring the party. There’s only fifteen minutes til kickoff. Word spre
ads that it’s time for the boys to come out. Our entire pit crew stands and moves like a large ameba toward the field. Led by the pep band and cheerleaders, we line both sides of the mine shaft, leaving a large aisle for the boys to run through. We’re screaming and cheering down on the field. Cowbells are ringing. People are popping each other over the heads with bangers, pom poms are flying, and voices are roaring through megaphones.
I have the sense that eyes are glaring into the side of my head, so I look over to see rashy Chelsea Cat standing right beside me in her cutesy little cheerleading uniform. Fortunately, the red in her uniform highlights her swollen, scarlet face. When I notice our proximity, I let my bangers clap together with exceptional intensity. She’s pinned between me and the rest of the crowd with no escape route, as I continuously bonk them into the side of her head. I look forward, not letting on that I know exactly what I’m doing. Her hands flail fiercely trying to bat the bangers away, but I’m relentless, kind of like she is when she’s on the prowl. I beat harder and faster, screaming and yelling, pretending I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Jenna stands directly across from me on the other side of the mine shaft watching me knock the crud out of Chelsea with my bangers. She is doubled over laughing hysterically, shaking her finger at me.
The crowd is roaring as the pep band begins to play the Miner Fight Song. Swiftly, the Miners approach the shaft. The first out, carrying the Mighty Miner’s pick axe is Brody. The boys are jogging at a good pace. Even though I’m still mad as heck at the kid, my eyes are locked on Brody in that sexy uniform. I can’t help it. The team is dressed completely in black tonight, and the guys look sharp. I know Brody is a wide receiver, but if I had anything to say about it, he’d definitely be the ‘Tight End.’ As I watch him jogging through the tunnel, I notice his eyes scan the crowd. When our eyes meet, a grin spreads across his face. I know we haven’t spoken in days, so I’m shocked when he slows, runs right up to me, and grabs my hand. “What are you doing Bro? You’re supposed to lead the team out there.”