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Lil is stacked. At fifteen she considers herself to be the new Marilyn.
Male high school freshmen follow the juniors following the sweet smell of her, push and shove to squeeze in next to her in the cafeteria. Rumbles, grumbles bring monitors, teachers to settle the boys down. Hardly a day passes that three or four of them aren’t sent to the Vice Principle’s office. Some escape the wrath of their parents. Others face detention.

We ordinary, mostly flat chested girls, have no alternative and  give Lil room to gloat. She thrives on the attention while we try to be silently jealous. The green glares thru. The fact that Lil is an honor student wipes out any speck of ego we try to keep.

I’m already a 32C which, if I pull my blouse tight into my skirt, will make my measurement just about noticeable. When we shower after gym, I have now and then have found damp balls of cotton slopped on the tile floor. Oh, yes, I admit, I am jealous of Lil but Mama has told me more than once that she was flat as a pancake when she was fourteen. ‘Look at me now, I am  fine but it is almost my turn to start getting flat again. Don’t rush yourself. Don’t be envious. It won’t hurry things along.’ I deny the envy to her and to myself, yet it lurks deep inside of me. Blinders don’t work.

For the first time in months the cafeteria is almost quiet. Boys whisper. We girls watch the boys watching the entrance doors. Lil does not come in. The loud silence is disturbing. I can hear myself chewing on a celery stalk and toss it in the trash.

Grace and Lois, classmates and pals of mine, finish lunch and we head to the library. Already the buzz about Lil has started. We try to ignore it and put our attention on the encyclopedia’s knowledge of the War of 1812. I pick up a few words across the catalogue cabinet, return the encyclopedia, walk around a few desks to gather rumors. I absorb them all. Lil is changing schools. Lil’s father died. Lil’s brother was killed in Iraq. Not one happy rumor do I hear. I make one up myself and send it around. A Playboy photographer spotted her, offered her a chance to pose, Or. Or. Or? until the emiss comes out. Grace gets it first. All it took  was four phone calls and the whole city already knows what happened.

Johnny, her brother, was given a surprise stag twenty-first birthday party. Twenty one guys were already loopy drinking their legal Margueritas when the lights went out and a single babe appeared in a blue spotlight. She was naked except for a tiny red G string. The young endowed girl looked nervous but she calmed herself and did a tricky pole dance. There were yelps. Hands, fingers reached out to touch the beauty. Table three near the stage let out a simultaneous ‘Yeah, Lil. Come closer, Honey.’ Lil screamed and ran wildly off the stage. She has not come back to school. A For Sale sign is on her house, which I take to mean, she never will be back.

I discuss Lil’s fate with my mother, then give her good news. My 32 C bra is too small. I have to get a 34 C. She smiles with me.