An Awkward Exchange

As Becky knocked on the dark red door of Luke’s house, she suddenly panicked.

It was the middle of the day, a school day, and she was knocking on her best friend’s door wearing one of the skimpiest outfits she had ever worn.

What the hell was she supposed to say?

The door opened before Becky had the chance to think of anything meaningful. There, in the doorway stood Mrs. Erickson, gaping at her.

“Hi Miss E!” Becky stammered.

Mrs. Erickson stared blankly at the voluptuous blonde girl, her round face looking pale against her dark brown hair in the somber autumn afternoon light. Then, a sense of recognition washed over the woman, followed by even greater shock.

“B-b-Becky?” She stammered.

“Uh, yes.”

Becky folded her arms over her chest, hoping to hide her large breasts; it didn’t do much for her.

“You-you look, err, I mean,” Mrs. Erickson coughed and started over. “What can I do for you?”

Becky’s mind raced. She needed a reason or she was cooked.

“A prop!” She exclaimed. “I need a prop for a-Uh-video. A video Luke and I are doing together. Remember the art competition we did a few years ago?”

A very confused Mrs. Erickson nodded vacantly at this. Becky suddenly realized that the woman was staring directly at her boobs.

She couldn’t blame the woman, exactly. It was one hell of a change to come to grips with, especially for a woman who had known Becky since she was practically in diapers.

“Wait,” Mrs. Erickson said. “Shouldn’t you be in school right now?”

Becky froze. Why yes, she should be. Shouldn’t she?

“I’m sick,” Becky responded. “I have a cold. Really bad sore throat. Luke asked me to pick up the prop from his room since I’m here. We’ll be filming later.”

“But you’re sick.”

“I am, yes. But I figured I would get some fresh air and help out. We do the filming in my back yard, so that’s why I need to get it.”

Mrs. Erickson finally seemed to soften. She smiled softly and motioned Becky in.

“You look different somehow, Becky. Older, maybe?”

Becky turned back towards Mrs. Erickson. She was still staring at Becky’s tits.

“Oh, thanks! I’m using a different shampoo,” Becky said, trying her best to not burst into laughter at the absurdity of the lie.

“Oh, well it’s really working for you,” Mrs. Erickson said, clearly unconvinced.

Becky walked down the hallway and as she did, the voice of the book spoke to her once more.

“Well that challenge is down. The next ones won’t be so easy.”

What is that supposed to mean?

“You’ll see.”

Becky reaches Luke’s room, wrapped up in her little exchange with the book, so much so that she nearly collided with another figure. When Becky took a step back, she was looking into the dark brown eyes of Chelsea’s Erickson, Luke’s wiry track star older sister.

Chelsea gaped at Becky, seemingly as overwhelmed by the girl’s new appearance as her mother. All Becky could do was nod before darting into Luke’s room.

“I’m guessing that was the bigger challenge,” she mumbled.

“No,” the book intoned. It’s voice was louder now, being so close.

“Well, where are you?”

Becky glanced around the room, hoping the book would be sitting on Luke’s crowded desk or perhaps strewn on his messy bed, or at least placed somewhere on the floor.

“Under the bed,” the book whispered.

Becky looked and her heart sank. She immediately recognized Luke’s old army footlocker, the ancient one he inherited from his grandfather. Securing it was a brand new padlock, glinting in the shadows.

“Fuck,” Becky whispered under her breath.