clasp or the fy white cotton one with the extrawide straps？？
？Just hand me the black one；？ Jenny mumbled； reaching behind her to retrieve the bra。 She
unhooked the ugly beige supersupportive Bali bra she was wearing and let it fall to the floor；
fumbling with the black bra while trying to keep the insides of her elbows pressed against her
ribcage to cover herself。 The straps on the black bra were shortened all the way； and the clasp was
a strange gold metal contraption instead of the normal hook and eye。 Jenny glanced up to find
Elise watching her in the mirror。 The dressing room had mirrors on three sides； so it wasn？t like
Jenny was really achieving anything by turning her back。
？Want some help？？ Elise took a step forward。
Jenny？s back was rigid。 She could pretty much forget about being modest。 Elise was going to see
her boobs no matter what。 She let her arms drop and turned around； full frontal。 ？Help me loosen
the straps？？ she asked； trying to sound nonchalant。 She handed Elise the bra； her breasts hanging
in front of her like fully risen loaves of sourdough bread。 She had to admit it felt slightly liberating。
Slightly liberating and totally embarrassing。
Elise set to work adjusting the bra； not even trying to hide the fact that she was staring at Jenny？s
boobs at the same time。 ？Wow。 They reallyare big；？ she observed。 ？How can you be so tiny and
have such big bobos？？
Jenny put her hands on her hips and stared back at Elise； trying to e up with a smart retort；
but instead she burst out laughing。 ？Bobos？？ she giggled。
Elise blushed and handed Jenny back the bra。 ？I？ve always called them that。 Ever since I was
little。？
Jenny slid the straps over her arms and then turned around。 ？Can you figure out the clasp？？ Elise
hooked it closed and Jenny turned around again。 The bra had great support； but her boobs were
pressed so close together； her cleavage was a mile deep。 Elise was still staring。 ？Do you think it？s
too slutty？？ Jenny asked。 She giggled。 ？I mean； this kind of makes my bobos look even bigger。？
Elise had stopped blinking； which was what she always did when she was distracted。 ？You know
when you asked me what I wrote about today in creative writing？？ she asked。 Jenny nodded and
turned around so Elise could unhook the bra。 ？Well； that？s what I wrote about。 Your bobos。？
Jenny？s back went rigid again。 If a guy told you he？d written about your breasts； you pretty
much knew he was either hitting on you or he was a pervert。 But since Elise was a girl and her
friend； Jenny wasn？t sure how to feel about it。
？I think I？m done；？ she said quickly。 She picked her old bra up off the floor and slipped it
on。 ？I？m going to buy the black one。？
They？d brought eight bras into the dressing room but Jenny had only tried on one。 ？Are you sure
you don？t want to try some of the others？？ Elise asked。
Jenny pulled on her T…shirt and tucked her sweater under her arm。 The tiny dressing room
suddenly felt extremely claustrophobic。 ？Nah；？ she answered； yanking aside the black curtain and
stepping back into the main room of the lingerie department； which of course was wall…to…wall
bras。 It would be nice to go someplace where breasts weren？t the main focus of everyone？s
attention。
Like another planet？
a very different kind of homework
？So what do you want to film first？？ Daniel Humphrey asked his best friend and girlfriend of six
weeks； Vanessa Abrams。 Dan attended renowned Upper West Side boys school Riverside Prep；
while Vanessa attended Constance Billard； but they had gotten permission to collaborate on a
special senior project calledMaking Poetry 。 Vanessa； a budding film director； was going to film
Dan； a budding poet and occasional star of Vanessa？s films； writing and revising his poems。
Not exactly box…office…smash material； but Dan was so cute in a scruffy； rumpled；
angst…ridden…artist sort of way that people would probably want to see it anyway。
？Just sit down at your desk and write something in one of those black notebooks like you always
do；？ Vanessa instructed； peering through the lens of her digital video camera to see if the light was
okay。 ？Can you clear some of that shit off your desk？？
Dan swept his arm over the desk and sent pens； paper clips； scraps of paper； rubber bands； books；
empty packs of unfiltered Camels； matchbooks； and empty Coke cans crashing to the
brown…carpeted floor。 They were filming in Dan？s room because that was where he usually
worked。 Besides； it was a straight shot through the park from Constance Billard on East
Ninety…third Street between Fifth and Madison to Dan？s apartment building on West Ninety…ninth
Street and West End Avenue。
？And maybe take your shirt off； too；？ Vanessa suggested。Making Poetry was going to be about
the artistic process； illustrating that whatdoesn？t go into the work is just as important as what does。
There would be lots of shots of Dan crumpling up paper and throwing it angrily across the room。
Vanessa wanted to show that writing？or creating anything； for that matter？wasn？t just a mental
exercise： it wasphysical 。 Plus； Dan had these great little muscles in his back that she couldn？t wait
to get on film。
Dan stood up and peeled off his plain black T…shirt； tossing it onto his unmade bed where the
Humphreys？ fat old cat； Marx； lay asleep on his back like a furry beached whale。 Everything
about the apartment Dan shared with his father； Rufus； an editor of lesser…known Beat poets； and
his little sister； Jenny； was unmade； falling apart； or at the very least pletely covered with cat
hair and dust bunnies。 It was a large； bright； high…ceilinged apartment； but it hadn？t been properly
cleaned in twenty years； and the crumbling walls were gasping for a new coat of paint。 Dan and
his father and sister rarely threw anything away； either； so the sagging furniture and scratched
wooden floors were strewn with old newspapers and magazines； out…of…print books； inplete
decks of cards； used batteries； and unsharpened pencils。 It was the kind of place where your coffee
got cat hair in it the minute you poured it； which was a problem Dan dealt with constantly because
he was pletely addicted to caffeine。
？Do you want me to face the camera？？ he asked； sitting down on his worn wooden desk chair
and swiveling it toward Vanessa。 ？I could hold the notebook in my lap and write like this；？ he
demonstrated。
Vanessa knelt down and squinted through the camera lens。 She was wearing her gray pleated
Constance Billard uniform with black tights； and the brown shag carpet felt bristly against her
knees。 ？Yes； that？s nice；？ she murmured。 Oh； just look how pale and smooth Dan？s chest was！ She
could see every rib； and that nice line of tawny peach fuzz that ran up his belly to his navel！ She
inched forward on her knees； trying to get as close as possible without ruining the frame。
Dan bit the end of his pen； smiled to himself； and then wrote；She？s got a shaved head； she wears
black all the time； she needs a new pair of bat boots； and she hates to wear makeup。 But she？s
the kind of girl who believes in you an