Return of the Sister: Part 12

Saturday morning came much too quickly. After showering, getting dressed, and eating a tiny breakfast carefully calculated to avoid bloating, Bobby climbed into the backseat of the Range Rover. He had it to himself, since Serena had left around 7:00 AM to help Jan set things up. Bobby was still groggy, and spent the car ride playing on his phone.

He couldn’t help but feel a twinge when he saw Josh’s last message, sent to him on Wednesday before the whole couch incident, was still waiting in his inbox: Okay, see you soon. Josh hadn’t sent anything since, and neither had Bobby. If there was any silver lining to doing this photo shoot, Bobby knew it was that it would keep him distracted. He didn’t want to dig deep and figure out how he actually felt -- it was painful, and also that stuff was for chicks.

“Here we are!” his dad announced. “Time for the first of many, many big photo shoots, Barbie.”

Bobby finally looked up from his iPhone, and his eyes widened. “Wait, I thought we were going to a studio?” he demanded.

His parents exchanged a glance. “Didn’t Serena tell you, sweetie?” his mom asked. “We got permission to do the whole shoot at your school! It’ll add to the realism, and she thought a familiar environment might help you relax, too.”

“Right,” Bobby muttered, staring out the window. He suspected Serena didn’t have his comfort in mind, but he figured prancing around for a camera would be pretty much the same no matter where he had to do it. It was a Saturday, after all, so it wasn’t like he had to worry about running into any classmates.

“Jan and Serena have been setting up all morning, so all we need to do is get you changed, have your hair and makeup done, and then you can jump right in,” his mom said. “Isn’t this exciting, Barbie? Your first real shoot, and it’s with -- ”

“Jan Van Antwerp,” Bobby finished. He forced a smile onto his face for his mom’s benefit. “It’s super exciting.”

His dad was already out of the Range Rover, and beat Bobby to the car door before he could open it himself. Blushing, Bobby accepted his dad’s arm and made his much-drilled graceful exit, knees locked together as he swung his legs out of the car.

It felt more than a little strange walking into Jefferson High accompanied by his parents. In fact, it brought up some very unpleasant memories of the night “Barbie” had made her big debut to a packed audience at halftime. His sense of unease only intensified when his parents immediately headed for the gym hallway.

“We’re doing the shoot in the gym?” Bobby asked nervously. “That’s not very, um, scenic. You know, the library has really nice lighting.”

“As if you’ve ever stepped foot in the library,” his dad remarked.

“Neither did Serena, and she turned out just fine,” his mom said reassuringly, giving her husband a look. “Jan has a very creative vision for the shoot, sort of a past, present, future, thing. But he’ll explain it to you, don’t worry.”

Bobby’s stomach sank as they entered the gymnasium. He’d avoided his old domain like the plague ever since his disastrous “coming out” -- he hadn’t attended any basketball games, obviously, and his gym class had been replaced by cosmetology. Now, seeing the familiar hardwood with the Jefferson High logo painted at center court, he was flooded with memories of his past exploits. He had led his team to victory so many times in this gym, and now…

Now he was clicking his way inside on a pair of slingback pumps, skirt swirling around his tanned thighs, long blonde hair bouncing around his face, and he was here to do a freaking photo shoot. He thought back to what Kimberly had said, about Serena throwing everything she had at him today. Obviously his big sister knew that taking a bunch of ultra-girly photos would be even more embarrassing here, in the gym he’d once dominated.

Well, he wasn’t going to show it. As they made their way over to where Jan’s assistant was busy unfolding chairs, Bobby clenched his jaw in the same expression of determination he’d once worn while handling the basketball under pressure.

“There’s our little Barbie doll!” Jan sang, appearing from behind a stack of camera equipment. “Come here, honey! You clearly got enough beauty sleep, because you look exquisite.”

Bobby pasted a bright smile onto his face, hiding his grimace entirely as the swishy photographer kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks,” he said. “Just, you know, happy to be here?”

He cast a look at Serena, whose smirk was already in place, but his attention was redirected when Jan seized both his hands, holding them tightly. His smile faltered and he looked back at the photographer, who had a slightly manic glint in his eye.

“Honey, this shoot is going to blow people away,” he said. “Let me explain my vision. I know you’re only seventeen, but you’re already a very complex girl, Barbie. You have so many contradictions. And this shoot is going to highlight that, by contrasting your past with your dazzling future. That’s why we’re here, in this gymnasium that smells like sweaty boys.”

“Cool,” Bobby said, trying to subtly tug his hands free. “That sounds, um, really cool.”

“So first we use your old life,” Jan continued. “The drab, boyish life you never belonged in! The ugly cocoon that kept you trapped! I know this may trigger emotions for you, honey, but I’ve always believed that art is therapeutic. Now that you’re returning to that old life as a beautiful, sexy young woman, you can feel truly empowered.” He finally let go of Bobby’s hands, snapping his fingers. His assistant hurried over with a garment bag and promptly unzipped it. “That’s why you’re going to love this first outfit,” Jan beamed. “It was your mother’s idea, actually.”

Bobby glanced anxiously at his mom, who had her hands clapped together in glee. “Remember how I found your old jersey a couple weeks ago, sweetie?” she asked. “I’m so glad I didn’t just throw it out.”

Jan held out the garment bag. Serena was watching intently with a malicious smile on her face, while Bobby could see his mom was waiting with bated breath. Bracing himself, he reached into the bag and pulled out his old Tomcats jersey. For a split second, as his fingers touched the familiar fabric, he felt a wave of comfort. He could already imagine sliding it over his head, tucking it into his shorts, brandishing his name and number to the crowd as he jogged out onto the court to dominate the opposition.

Except there was a lot less fabric to it than there used to be. Bobby’s pretty pink mouth fell open as he lifted what was left of his jersey. Someone skilled with scissors and absolutely diabolical had turned it into a sassy crop top, slicing half of it away to make sure it would show plenty of midriff.

He had gone to battle in that jersey so many times, proving his manliness over and over by embarrassing defenders twice his size and leading his team to wins, and now it had been turned into a flirty little number no athlete, male or female, would ever wear for a game. To his shame, he felt tears welling up in his eyes -- why was he so freaking emotional lately?

“Sweetie, is everything okay?” his mom asked nervously.

Bobby looked up, blinking back his tears. He could see Serena staring at him from over their mom’s shoulder, a cold little smile playing on her lips, willing him to break down. He put a big soppy grin on his face and flung his arms around his mom.

“Oh, Mom, I love it!” he exclaimed. “Thank you!” His mom hugged him back, surprised but clearly pleased, and Bobby glared at his sister over her shoulder, subtly raising one manicured middle finger. Serena only rolled her eyes.

“Terrific!” Jan sang. “Then it’s hair and makeup time, honey. Scoot! The boys should be here soon.”

Bobby thought his stomach had already sunk as far as it could go, but Jan’s words proved him wrong. “Boys?” he echoed weakly. “What boys?”

“Sweaty ones, honey,” Jan said with an exaggerated wink. “Now get your butt in that chair!”

#

Kimberly waited around outside the studio for a full twenty minutes before she finally got a text from Bobby informing her Serena, sneaky bitch that she was, had changed the location of the photo shoot at the last minute. Fuming inwardly, Kimberly made the drive back across town as quickly as she could, pulling into a spot in the Jefferson High parking lot in an uncharacteristically sloppy park job.

By the time she got to the gymnasium, the shoot was well underway -- and she could barely believe her eyes. Her ex boyfriend was strutting his stuff in an extremely impractical pair of wedge sneakers, wearing a crop-top jersey in Jefferson High colors and matching hot pants that clung to his curvy butt like a second skin. His blonde wig was pulled up high into a sexy, hairspray-pumped pony tail, and big silver hoop earrings gleamed in his ears as he twisted and turned for the camera. He had a basketball perched on his hip and was flanked by two muscular male models -- one wearing a jersey, the other shirtless. The famous Jan Van Antwerp was circling the trio like a hawk, shouting directions, and Kimberly could see Bobby biting his lip nervously as he struck pose after pose.

Between shots, he kept glancing towards the other end of the gym, where Kimberly saw a bunch of guys from Jefferson High’s basketball team going through the motions of a pick-up game, but mostly watching the photo shoot unfold. Serena had outdone herself. Under other circumstances, Kimberly would be over the moon just getting to watch her ex squirm through such a deviously designed scenario. But if Bobby cracked, it would mean disaster for her plans to keep him in skirts, and possibly for her plans to not go to jail.

A familiar, over-loud voice broke her from her thoughts. “Yo, Kimberly, what’s up, girl?”

Kimberly turned and saw DeShawn, wearing his jersey and shorts. “Oh. Hey, DeShawn.”

“You an extra, too?” DeShawn asked, nodding his head towards the gym. “Like, for this photo shoot shit?”

“Just here for moral support,” Kimberly said. “For Barbie.”

DeShawn grimaced slightly, and Kimberly saw a distant look in his eyes. “Dope,” he muttered. “It’s all pretty nuts, you know? Like, his whole…” He thumped his head. “Her whole thing,” he corrected, then let out a long sigh. “I don’t get it, yo. Do you get it? Me and Bobby, I mean, shit, me and Barbie, we used to be bros, you know?”

“I remember,” Kimberly said dryly. “Look, I have to go check up on her, so…”

“We used to tell each other stuff,” DeShawn continued, now staring at his former teammate with an expression of mingled confusion, betrayal...and more than a hint of lust. “Like, what girls we were smashing, what girls we wanted to smash, how many times we’d actually smashed,” he listed. “But not just that stuff! Real stuff, too, you know? At least, I told her real stuff.” He gave a listless shrug. “I guess she was just making shit up the whole time. Acting like we were bros, when the whole time she wanted, you know, this.”

Kimberly was momentarily stunned into silence. She’d never really thought of Bobby as having friends -- just misguided admirers. She was sure he’d thought of his basketball teammates as props to make him look good, people who passed him the ball and boosted his ego. But DeShawn, poor gullible DeShawn, seemed to think him and Bobby had actually had some kind of bond that “Barbie’s” appearance had ruined. She almost felt bad for him.

“Some days I still just can’t believe it,” DeShawn muttered. “Like, that used to be our captain, yo. Now he’s… I mean, she, is a total dime. She’s the hottest chick in school, you know? No offense, Kimberly. And it’s like she has to keep throwing it in our faces, too, always wearing those tiny skirts and shit. I guess she even asked for us to be here for the photo shoot. What kind of weird game is that, man?”

“I guess she wants to make sure you see the real her,” Kimberly said, then hesitated, feeling slightly guilty at the forlorn look on DeShawn’s face -- after all, she was the one who’d taken his “bro” away. “It’s for the best,” she added. “And maybe some day you two can make up. You better get back in there. Background of a Jan Van Antwerp shoot, that’s a big deal, DeShawn.”

DeShawn gave a morose shrug, still watching his former captain primp and pose, now blushingly hanging off one of the male model’s biceps. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “See you around, girl.”

He headed back to the staged pick-up game, leaving Kimberly free to approach the photo shoot. As she watched, Jan Van Antwerp walked up to Bobby and repositioned him, almost as if he were an actual Barbie doll, moving his hand onto the male model’s bare chest and tipping his chin back so Bobby would be looking adoringly up into the taller boy’s eyes. Her ex’s gaze cut shyly away to his teammates again, with a look of misery and longing.

Kimberly stopped just out of view of the camera and waved. Bobby finally caught sight of her, and his face went even redder. She saw him gesture pleadingly to Jan Van Antwerp. The photographer looked slightly annoyed, but gave a permissive nod.

“Okay, time out, everybody!” he shouted. “Barbie needs to tinkle! We’ll be back to it in ten minutes!”

Bobby clearly didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled his hand away from the male model as if the boy’s pectorals were literally, instead of metaphorically, smoking hot, then hurried towards the exit, determinedly not looking back at his teammates.

As he approached, Kimberly could see he was on the verge of panic. His chest was heaving prettily under the crop-top jersey -- it looked an awful lot like his old Tomcats jersey, now that she saw it up close -- and he had an almost shell-shocked expression in his blue eyes. Kimberly looked over his shoulder and saw Serena staring back at her. Her ex’s sister gave a little wave.

Bobby cast a fearful glance backwards, and shuddered. “Get me the hell out of here, Kimmy,” he hissed. “This is not okay.”

Kimberly took her ex by the arm, waving briefly to his parents, then steered him towards the girls’ bathroom. As soon as they were inside, he slumped against the sink top, breathing heavily. His prettily made-up face was a picture of anguish.

“That bitch,” he breathed. “Look what she did to my jersey.” He plucked at the fabric of his top, and Kimberly realized it really was his old jersey -- or at least, half of it. “And those two dumbbells I’m supposed to be batting my eyes at don’t even know how to dribble a basketball! They have hands twice my size and they can’t even palm it, the one asshole keeps trying to spin it on his finger and dropping it…” He shook his head furiously, making his silver hoops bounce against his cheeks. “And she brought my freaking teammates here to be extras. Said it would ‘add an air of authenticity.’ So they’re over there playing a game and I’m over here in front of the camera acting like some… Like some dumb slut…”

Her ex’s voice broke on the last word. He was red in the face with frustration and embarrassment, and clearly fighting back a sob. Serena had wasted no time bringing out the big guns -- no matter what Bobby had been doing in private with Josh, cavorting around with two hunky male models in front of his former teammates had to be setting off every “gay panic” alarm in his homophobic brain. The fact that he was doing it in full makeup and towering wedges, wearing short shorts and a girlified version of his own jersey that showed off his feminized body, was just icing on the cake.

“Look, you knew this was coming,” Kimberly said. “You’ve got Serena on the ropes, remember? She’s desperate. She’s pulling out all the stops. She doesn’t want you to do this photo shoot, because she’s completely terrified of you.”

“She doesn’t look terrified, Kimmy,” Bobby snapped. “She looks like she’s having the time of her freaking life.”

“That’s because you look like a mess,” Kimberly retorted. “She thinks you’re in here bawling your eyes out and begging me to drive you home.”

“You’re here to drive me home?” Bobby asked faintly.

“Nope. I’m here to make sure you beat her.” Kimberly put both hands on her ex’s shoulders. “This is a game of chicken, Bobby. You just have to hold in there a little longer. Pretty soon she’s going to be shitting herself, realizing she screwed up, bringing this Antwerp guy in, because guess what? He thinks you’re hotter than Serena ever was. She’s going to be old news, and the best part is, she did it to herself.”

“Wait.” Bobby swallowed. “What did you call me?”

Kimberly frowned. “Barbie?”

“No, you said Bobby.” A shaky smile spread across her ex’s face. “Bobby.”

“Maybe I did,” Kimberly admitted. “I guess I -- ”

“Because I’m still Bobby Vickerson,” Bobby said staunchly. “That’s why. No matter what I look like, no matter what I have to wear, I’m still Bobby Vickerson. And Bobby Vickerson doesn’t lose.”

Kimberly blinked, taken aback by his sudden intensity -- she’d honestly kind of thought she’d stomped it out of him. She stood back and watched as her ex checked his makeup, fluffed out his pony tail, and adjusted the short shorts that were trying to ride up inside his butt crack. He drew a deep breath, the nodded to himself in the mirror.

“Let’s go do this thing,” he said. “Come on, Kimmy.”

Kimberly was a little miffed she hadn’t gotten to finish her pep talk, but it seemed like her ex had done it himself for once. “Alright, then,” she said. “Lead the way.”