Jack Kerouac is Dead to Me - Gae Polisner Page 0,54

dinner beforehand. Nana and I would like to get to know him better and take pictures.

Tears spring to my eyes. I’ve been too hard on her, thinking she’s not paying attention when she is.

I unzip the bag, and pull the dress out, a simple one-shouldered, floor-length chiffon sheath, totally plain except for a high, thin moss-green belt. But what’s most amazing is the color: cobalt blue, the same exact color as Blue Morpho.

I hold the dress to my body and twirl in my closet mirror, blown away by how perfect it is. The fabric is weightless and sheer, nearly iridescent, like butterfly wings.

I strip off my clothes and slip the dress over my head. It glides down my body like a waterfall, cascading to the perfect length on the floor. I look pretty, even if it doesn’t transform me completely, into something beautiful and rare like my mother.

I twirl again, faster and faster, the fabric billowing outward, and lift my arms, moving across the floor, as if waltzing with an invisible partner.

When I return to the mirror, I stare at my cheeks, warm and flushed, my chest heaving, my hair a mess, wisps fallen across my cheeks in slashes. I want to call Aubrey and show her how perfect it is.

Instead, I call Max.

“Come see,” I say. “I think you’ll love it.”

I just want him to be okay with the dress.

* * *

“Hey, what happened to them all?” he asks when he walks in my room. He runs his fingers down the mesh of the habitat.

“They died.” My tone may be matter-of-fact, but I’m crushed about it.

“That’s sad,” he says. “I guess they really don’t live very long.”

“Some of the more common ones live less than a week. But I used to let those out, so I’d never see them die.” I laugh a little because I don’t want things to turn morbid. Not with Max here. “Tropicals live longer than most. Maybe I’ll set the rest of them free this weekend.”

“Still sucks,” he says, turning back to me. “So, put it on.” I tilt my head in question, and he says, “The dress, Jailbait? You wanted me to see.”

“Oh, not on, just … well, here.” I slide the hanger out, press the dress against my body. It looks like little more than a slinky blue sheet hanging there. “It is way better on,” I say quickly.

“I bet,” Max says. “So, go ahead.”

I glance at my door, at the hall. Max stays put. “Can you wait out there?”

He furrows his brow. “No. I want to watch you,” he says.

My face flushes hot. “You want to see me put the dress on?”

“Yeah. Can I?” I lay the dress on my bed and wrap my arms to my chest, self-conscious. We’ve done all sorts of things together, Max and me, but it’s not like I’ve paraded around naked.

“Okay,” I say, tentatively. I close my bedroom door. Who knows when Mom might return? Swiftly, I pull my T-shirt off and toss it on my pillow, leaving on my white bra with black polka dots and black bow. A breeze from I don’t even know where slips across my stomach, raising goose bumps on my skin. I unzip my shorts and let them fall to the floor, but don’t turn around, leaning over my bed to slip on the dress.

“Wait, don’t. I want to see you completely.”

“Max…”

“Please? I won’t touch. I just want to look at you.” I turn to face him, my arms hanging awkwardly at my sides. I swear I can feel my entire body blushing.

“Same as a bikini, you know,” he says, and he’s right, so why does it feel so different? “God, you’re gorgeous.” He moves toward me. “Can I take this off?” Without waiting he reaches around and unhooks my bra. I can feel my heart pounding right out of my rib cage. “I want to see all of you in daylight.”

He takes the straps from my arms, tosses the little piece of fabric onto my bed, and says, “I want to know you, Jailbait. I want to touch you, taste you, all of it.”

He cups my breasts and kisses them, making goose bumps rise up everywhere now, and kneels in front of me, running his tongue down my stomach and over the front of my underpants.

“Max—” I whisper. The truth is it’s hard to say no.

“What?” He looks up at me, but doesn’t move, instead pulls the edge of my underpants aside, and slips his fingers under. “It’s