They walked to where Jill sat, still laughing.

"I guess your sex appeal just can't be overcome, hm?" Jill said as they sat.

"I guess not," Francie answered lightly, hugging Chester's arm and leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "Plus I gave him a blow job over there behind the tree just now."

This sent the two of them off into gales of renewed laughter while Jill just sat and stared at them, long, lanky legs crossed at the ankles. "That's not funny," she finally said.

"But it is funny, Jill Wyler," Francie countered, unpacking her lunch and starting to eat it with gusto. "It's funny. It's a goddamn laugh riot, you just don't have much of a sense of humor, that's what I think."

Jill looked at Chester, who was busy unwrapping his own lunch. "Are you just going to let her insult me like that?" she asked.

Chester took a deep breath and looked at her. "It's a two way street, okay? If you're going to continue to talk to her the way you do, then yeah, I am. I think she'll be as civil as you will." He looked interrogatively at Francie, who nodded as she picked up her water bottle.

She spoke after she set it down. "Look, I can't just let you constantly insult me like you do, no matter how much Chester likes you, no matter how sorry for you I feel."

"Why on earth would you feel sorry for me?" Jill said in an affronted voice.

Francie swallowed, realizing she might have said too much. "Never mind," she said, trying to backtrack. "My point is that, up to now, for whatever reason, I've just let you say whatever you want."

"Well, I should hope so," Jill huffed. "You can't control what I say, Francie Santangelo, I don't care how beautiful and popular you are, you don't have that much power! Let me indeed!"

Francie fought back the urge to laugh at Jill's use of the word "indeed," and continued. "I meant, I've just let you say whatever you want without saying anything back, but I don't think I'm going to do that anymore. If you're going to talk to me and about me a certain way, well, I guess I'm going to do the same, okay?" She looked at Chester, who looked back at her, a quick, non-verbal communication passing between them.

You'd never really hurt her? She's been hurt so much.

Of course I'd never really hurt her, dingbat, I just need to defend myself sometimes, okay?

Okay.

Francie looked back at Jill, who looked back and forth between the other two, aware that something had been said that she didn't understand.

Jill wiped her mouth, cleaned up the remnants of her lunch and rose. "I see how things are going to be around here, then. Queen Francie's going to be running things, then, right, Chester? She says jump, and you say 'how high?'"

"Well, hardly that, Jill," Chester quipped, gesturing toward his crutches, as Francie burst out laughing.

Jill shook her head, eyes narrowing. "You're disgusting," she said. "What an absolutely horrifying thing to laugh at."

"You're the one who said it," Chester pointed out.

"I'm leaving," Jill announced, and Francie and Chester could see her chin beginning to quiver as she whirled and walked away at a rapid clip.

"Oh no, Jill, come back, please," Chester called. "I can't go after you, you know that, please?"

But Jill began to run, banging her hip into the doorknob that led to the library on her way in.

Francie began to rise. "You want me to go get her?" she asked, concerned.

Chester shook his head. "I should've known she'd get all sensitive," he said, running his hand through his hair. "She's always been weirder about my legs than me. Don't worry about it," he assured Francie. "She has to grow a thicker skin eventually."

The bell rang, and they, too, cleaned up their things and began walking to class.

"Hey, you want to come over tonight? My mom has a meeting, and my dad's still on tour in Asia." Chester looked at Francie.

"Sounds great," she agreed with enthusiasm. "We can talk about it at swim practice."

"See you then."

🏊🏻‍♀️ 🌟 🏊🏻‍♀️ 🌟 🏊🏻‍♀️ 🌟 🏊🏻‍♀️ 🌟 🏊🏻‍♀️

Francie walked onto the pool deck, pleasantly aware that Chester was probably watching her. For the first time in her life, she was happy that she was pretty. She was glad she had clear skin, bouncy hair, clear blue eyes, a flat stomach, long legs, and all the other things that added up to what was generally considered to be attractive in today's society.

Her earliest memories were of being told by strangers that she was adorable and that she looked like a little doll, but she'd always looked up to and idolized Clio, her willowy and dark-haired sister, and set her standards by what Clio did and looked like. She knew that her mother, whom her father worshipped, and whom she herself resembled, was considered beautiful, but she always harbored a secret wish to be thin and brunette like Clio, to have brown eyes and small breasts like Clio.

Now, though, seeing the admiration and affection in Chester's clear, light eyes, Francie was glad, for the first time in her life, to look like she did. On a deep, important level, of course, she'd never given her looks a second thought. She saw in her mother and father's eyes a deep and abiding love that told her how she looked didn't matter, that she was loved always and forever.

But it was nice that Chester thought she was pretty.

She walked to the blocks and looked over at the bleachers, where, sure enough, she caught his eye. He waved and smiled and she waved and smiled back.

She pulled her cap on, shoving her curls into it all the way around. She pulled her goggles on, adjusted them, and waited for the warm up. After it was given, she looked at the clock and dove in on the up with abrupt efficiency, getting into the groove that she knew so well. Her body went into autopilot as her brain began to rove onto topic after topic, beginning with a list of things she had to do, then moving on to her homework assignments, then moving on to what movie she and Chester might watch tonight. All of these things moved through her brain while a soundtrack of her favorite songs played in the background in rhythm to how her body moved.

She was pulled abruptly out of of her semi-hypnotized state when she got a face full of water from someone in the next lane who splashed extra hard in her direction when she turned to breathe. Francie stopped swimming and trod water for a second and coughed and choked, gagging out water and moving so the person behind her could pass.

"You okay?" he asked, stopping for a second as he swam by.

Francie nodded, waving him on. She spit out one last mouthful of water and continued with the set, concentrating on her stroke and on making up the time she'd lost so she'd make the interval.

Then it happened again, this time with someone in the lane on the other side, who did a flip turn very close to her, making an extra big splash so Francie got a face full of water as she waited on the wall.

WTF?

By the time she got a kick to the face later in practice, Francie knew something was going on. She was one of the fastest swimmers on the team, there was no reason for anyone to be running into her, or vice versa.

She looked over at Chester after it happened for the fourth time and saw him sitting ramrod straight and looking back at her in consternation, anger in his pale eyes.

While she was looking at him, resting an arm on the lane line, Paulette Johnson, in the next lane, accidentally kicked one of the plastic floaters on the lane line, pinching Francie's elbow hard enough to draw blood.

"Oh god, Francie, I'm so sorry!" Paulette said, stopping on the wall. "That looks like it hurts."

"Well, it doesn't feel good," Francie retorted, quickly lifting her elbow onto the pool deck so it wouldn't drip into the pool, thereby necessitating canceling practice.

"Johnson, what you doing? Why you not more careful?" Coach bellowed from his chair.

"I'm kidding, coach, I can hardly feel it," Francie called. "I'll go take care of it right now, no big deal. I think I'm finished for today, though."

Coach nodded and waved her away.

Francie went into the locker room with Allegra Murphy, who helped her put a large bandaid on what turned out to be just a scrape.

She sent Chester a text telling him she was going home and would be at his house at seven, and when she showed up, he opened the door, concern etched on his face. "Let me see your arm, please."

"Please, it's fine, it's just a little cut. There's nothing to see but the band aid, see?"

"What the hell was going on during practice? Those guys were doing that stuff on purpose, Francie!"

Francie nodded as they sat down on the couch. "You could tell, too, hunh?"

"Of course I could tell!"

Francie was grateful for the fury she could hear in Chester's voice. "They're all friends of Antonio's," he went on. "He's not going to let this go, I don't think."

"I don't think so, either," Francie agreed. "Hell hath no fury like a Brazilian scorned, I guess."

Chester, who was about to say something, heard her words and looked at her, grinning. "God, Francie, that was so funny." He leaned in to kiss her.

Francie kissed him back with great enthusiasm, leaning into him and opening her mouth.

Chester pushed her over the other way, lying on top of her and pulling her legs up onto the couch.

"Oh goody," Francie said with a laugh. "Are we just going to get straight to the making out without even picking out a movie to pretend to watch?"

Chester kissed her again before turning them so they were lying sideways and taking her in his arms. He clicked the remote so Finding Nemo started playing before kissing her again.

"There," he said. "Satisfied? But we have to talk about what happened at school before we get to the making out part of our evening, I think, don't you?"

"What is there to talk about?" Francie asked. "So some people messed with me. It happens."

"But it's never happened to you before, has it?"

Francie shook her head. "But everyone gets picked on at one time or another in school, right? So I had to wait until my junior year of high school. I'd say that makes me lucky, wouldn't you?"

Chester stroked her hair. "This is so not cool, though, Francie. You can't have another day like today, you'll wind up in the hospital." He gestured to her elbow.

Francie snorted. "The hospital? Gee, Chester, hyperbolic much?" She kissed his ear, which was the closest thing she could reach. "Seriously, I can take it. They'll get bored and stop, you'll see."

And Chester, who was starting to get distracted from the closeness of Francie, decided to hope for the best and let the conversation go. He leaned in and kissed her on her mouth, then her jaw, then her neck, moving across her collarbone, pulling her shirt down as far as he dared as he went, exposing the top of a pretty lacy bra.

Francie pulled his head close to her, threading her fingers through his wonderful hair, the topic of conversation forgotten. she wrapped her leg around his hip, pulling them close together on the wide couch.

She felt him press into her, rolling his hips between her legs, and pressed back, wishing they were wearing fewer clothes. She wondered if she were going to lose her virginity to Chester, but that thought was as scary as it was exciting, and she pushed it away.

"Chester?"

"Hm?"

"You want me to take my top off?"

Chester let out a deep breath.

"Yes, please," he finally said, nodding and smiling.

"I will if you will," she answered with a grin, and suddenly Chester was trying to sit up and get his shirt off at the same time and having trouble because of his legs.

"Francie!"

"What?"

"Help me, you sadist! I really think you enjoy seeing me suffer!" Chester's voice was muffled inside his shirt as he struggled.

Francie laughed and pulled his shirt off.

"Wow, you're really built," Francie said, admiring his broad chest and shoulders.

"I kind of had to build up my upper body strength, you know? To--" Chester motioned toward his legs. He looked at Francie expectantly.

Francie grasped her T-shirt at the hem and pulled it over her head in one motion, though it did get hung up momentarily on her abundant hair. This made both of them laugh. He helped her, and she finally got it off, shaking her hair out as she looked down, suddenly shy.

"Oh, Francie, you're so beautiful," Chester breathed. "I've never seen anything as beautiful as you in my life."

"Thank you," Francie answered, still unable to look up.

Chester put a hand under her chin and lifted, putting his other hand on her waist. "Never," he repeated as he leaned in to kiss her.

They lay down, bodies pressed together, and Chester carefully slid his hand up Francie's front until his hand was cupping her breast, touching the soft lace of her bra.

"Your skin is so soft," he breathed in her ear as he slid his other hand around to her back. "Wow."

He didn't think he'd ever been so happy.

And neither did she.