“What? What thing?”
“An escort service. I don’t mean young girls for older men,” she added quickly. “But how about an escort service for high school boys? We might be able to organize it. I bet we could make a lot of money.”
“That’s even more ridiculous, Chastity.”
“No, it isn’t. There are plenty of boys today who are pretty awkward when it comes to dating and things. They’d love to pay to have everything arranged. And don’t say it’s illegal. If it was illegal, your sister would be in jail, right?”
I suddenly realized I might have created a monster. “I don’t know, Chastity. And don’t ask your father!” I added.
“I won’t, but I think it’s a very exciting idea.”
“You should just study for the test tomorrow, Chastity. You’re getting crazy. Let’s forget about my sister for a while.”
“What do you mean? We’re going back up there, aren’t we? I heard her say she had a full weekend.”
“No,” I said. “I decided it’s not a good idea.”
“What?”
“I want to think more about it first.”
“Well, that’s not fair. You got me into this, and now you just want to stop?”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” I said quickly. “I really want to study.”
“That’s not fair,” she repeated, and hung up.
I was actually shaking. She’s going to cause some sort of trouble, I thought. I have to find a way to keep her satisfied. Papa was always fond of saying, “Two can keep a secret if one is dead.” Now I was afraid I had trusted someone too much. Chastity and I had been drawn together out of a common need for a best friend. My life was so restricted, so controlled, most of the girls in my class considered me a waste of time. Chastity was usually ignored or forgotten whenever it came to parties or get-togethers. We just seemed to gravitate toward each other.
We both felt safe talking and fantasizing about boys and men we knew we would never really speak to, much less have any sort of intimate relationship with. Romance for us was still something kept at a distance, a dream. Other girls our age whom we knew weren’t much more sophisticated, and most of them were virgins, but for some reason, our virginity had a capital V. I could feel it in the way boys and other girls looked at us, especially me.
What would happen if they suddenly found out I had a sister who worked for a high-priced escort service? Would it make me seem odder and forbidden, like someone who could spread a disease, or would it suddenly make me interesting to them? There were a few boys I found attractive and interesting. I wished one especially, Evan Styles, a sophomore, would give me a second glance, but that had yet to happen.
Evan was one of the more popular boys. His father was a mayoral assistant, an attorney, and he and Evan’s mother were often in New York magazines, photographed at charity events or government events. The question wasn’t whether there were any girls interested in Evan. The question was who wasn’t? Besides being bright and very good-looking, he had a winning personality. I knew our teachers were fond of him.
What would get him to look seriously at me?
I thought about Roxy. She was so well put together—her hair, her makeup, and the way her clothes fit. But it was that air of self-confidence that surprised me the most, the way she walked and held herself. Where did she learn how to do that if she had been thrown out onto the streets? Wouldn’t that make it far more difficult to have any self-confidence?
I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was neat but dull, I thought. I wore nothing but a little lipstick, and that usually wore off or looked bland. I rarely wore earrings to school, and I was never excited about my clothes. Whenever Mama took me shopping for something new to wear, she always wondered aloud if my father would approve. I might as well be wearing a uniform. I’m in Papa’s private family army, I thought.
I need to buy something more attractive to wear. I’ve got to do something else with my hair, and I should wear more makeup to school.
Just a short look at Roxy had stirred all of these thoughts in my mind.
What would happen if I ever did speak to her and spent any time with her?
Maybe I shouldn’t think of the two of us as being like Cain and Abel in the Bible.
Maybe I should think of myself as Eve.
And of Roxy . . . as the snake.
4
“I need something new to wear to school,” I announced at breakfast the next morning.
“Why? What’s the special occasion?” Papa asked me.