Kendra was surrounded by a flock of voluble girls.
One girl relayed the time while another frantically hopped around the rented hotel suite. The rest were huddled together, fingers knotting as they each intruded on the attempts of the others. They were all trying to move the same zipper, each in a different manner than the previous. All were frantic as each set of fingers tried to wiggle and shimmy the zipper up its metal track. They commanded that Kendra suck it in, and in reply, Kendra breathlessly reminded them that there was nothing left to suck.
"Those are my ribs! They don't get smaller!" she barked even as the air was quickly leaving her. Blood was in her head, lighting up the freckled complexion with intense cranberry hues.
The four girls, Kendra included, deflated and the fastening for a black, mermaid style bridesmaid dress retreated to its original starting point. In the front, the lip of the semi-sweetheart styled gown peeled forward in retreat and two time-slowing jugs of flesh spilled forward like they were ready for play. As if everyone shared a consciousness, each girl sighed in unison and made an offhanded comment about how absurdly large Kendra's breasts were.
"I swear to god I didn't gain any weight," Kendra threw up her defense as quick as she could. She knew that each dress was tailor-made for each and every person participating in Claire's wedding. If the dress didn't fit, then the blame had to go to the either the tailor or the girl stuffing her puffy body into the tiny black sleeve. Almost everyone else had perfectly form-fitting dresses, so the tailor couldn't have been the problem.
"Maybe you're just bloated?" came Teresa, the last girl that had tried and failed to get the dress to stay put.
"Maybe you just ate something this morning like you weren't supposed to. The fast started last night, Kendra."
Kendra focused her attention on the back of the room where she met the scowl of Claire's younger sister Jasmine. Of all the girls in the wedding party, Jasmine was the least fit to be wearing a 'semi-sweetheart' anything. This was because she was both a royal bitch and as flat chested as could be. She had spent more pins and tape to keep the dress over her small B cups than the average kindergartener does during art class. She could have passed as a kindergartener compared to the girls she would be standing next to while her older sister exchanged vows in front of friends and family. Being barely eighteen and thin as a rail, Jasmine looked less like a picture of elegance and more like she tripped and fell into her mother's makeup bag.
And the bratty kid treatment had been consistent all day long. On an average day, Jasmine's rage was tolerable as she was just a gloomy, grumpy teenager. But this time, inside Kendra's nutrient deficient, hunger striking mind, she concluded that the little punk needed to be taught a lesson.
"If you've got a better idea, then say it instead of being a bitch about this. I would ask to use some pins, but you probably used them all on yourself, right?"
"You're one to talk about being 'pinned up'. You look like a walking porno with tits like that. If I were you, I'd be afraid of coming within two feet of anything sharp."
"At least I don't have to worry about being around anything 'sharp' when I'm with you, Jasmine. You're the dullest person I know."
"I hope you trip and suffocate on those airbags," Jasmine stood, a fist full of the front of her dress in her hand to keep it from falling.
"I hope I trip and suffocate you!" Kendra spat back.
When the red film finally cleared from her eyes, Kendra realized that Jasmine had stormed out of the twin bedroom changing area. The front door slammed angrily and every other girl in the room was quiet. The weight of the moment felt like a body-sized blood pressure reader and Kendra was in its midst being squeezed. Did Jasmine have all of that coming? Probably not; she was just being fussy. Did Kendra regret it? No. In fact, she felt worse about how it made her look in front of all of her friends. They had never seen her this way before and she didn't exactly know how to feel about it.
"Maybe that was a little much?" Benny, the tallest girl said.
"'Maybe'?" Teresa added with wide sweeps of her hands. "One of our bridesmaids just ran out the door and the other can't fit her mammoth melons inside her dress. The wedding's two hours away, guys. We have a schedule to keep."
"This is my fault," Kendra said, though there wasn't much remorse in her tone. She tried to keep her feelings as subdued as possible, despite the satisfaction she felt from getting a rise out of Jasmine.
"Damn straight it is! Ugh, what do we do? What do we do?! First off, no one tells Claire," Teresa's pupils became pinpricks as the stress got to her.
Even if she was legitimately stressed, her animated bouncing and rubbing of her hands accidentally made it look like a sketch comedy routine. Teresa had always been like this, Kendra remembered, and it was actually refreshing to be reminded of how little things had changed with time.
"That's if she hasn't already crossed paths with Jasmine," Kendra added.
"That can't happen! This is her special day."
It was true. This day was supposed to be about Claire and in thinking about her friend, Kendra started to feel attrition weaving into her elation. It more so annoyed her being there, but she couldn't really ignore the tinge. Then, as if stricken by lightning, she was inspired by a brilliant idea. She stopped Teresa from pacing and turned to the group of pessimistic looking childhood friends.
"I'll just go and apologize and bring Jasmine back. Claire doesn't have to know."
"And the dress?"
Kendra's hidden grin finally slipped out and looked more divisive than she had planned. To her joy, no one called her out on it. "That will take care of itself."
Jasmine couldn't help but feel like she was being watched. The sense that something was behind her was ever-present and aggravating. A few times it was her hair and another time it was one of the hotel staff. Every time it was some unimpressive manifestation of her imagination. Nothing was chasing her and no one was watching her. 'No one is watching me' she told herself. The sentiment seemed to echo in the spacious halls. That statement less of a comfort and more of a somber realization.
Her heeled feet pushed on, double time, as she rounded corner after corner. She needed some fresh air, and the closest place to get some was the rear bar out near the deck. She was by no means old enough to drink, but maybe if she took refuge in her made-up face and fancy dress and flexed her identity as maid of honor, the bartender might ignore how she still had the same body she did in middle school. Parallel to the thought, the spike of her black heel snagged part of the fishtail dress and the vesture was ripped from her hand, exposing her chest just as a member of room service passed on the left-hand side. It was a boy, Jasmine noticed, but he didn't seem to think twice. He walked on, his sunglasses defending his eyes from the snow blindness he might have suffered from catching the glare from a pure white sheet of human skin, and turned the corner from where Jasmine had just come. She had her top down passing by a guy in his twenties and he didn't even flinch! She wasn't embarrassed at all by this. All she could process was seething anger. She snatched up a wad of the dress, made sure that her nipples were covered, and changed course.
She may not be old enough to drink, but she could drive. The wind from a quick spin around the block was as good as a band-aid on a decapitated limb, but it was all she had to numb the pain.
She felt another pair of eyes on her back, but she was boiling and ready to punch a hole in a wall. Even if the boy from before changed his mind, she wouldn't care to humor him. She navigated the hallways like a trout might a stream - or a black dragon might a cave - and was near enough to the entrance to hear the sound of automatic swishing. A few feet in front of her on the right was the check-in counter and on the left was the main hall that led to the dining area where prepackaged snacks waited for guests of the condominium complex. She could even smell the outside; the smell of afternoon sun on pressure washed pavement, the moisture of an oncoming shower. Then, in a flash, it was all snatched away.
A vice wrenched her around her pencil waist. Another, before she could react, forced her chin upwards and wrapped around her neck. Her eyes bulged from the force as she realized in a panic that she only had one lung's worth of air to work with. She couldn't even see her assaulter but felt the superhuman strength keeping her in check. Was it the boy from before? Probably not. The binding choking off her breathing was definitely an arm, and there was no hair to be found on it. Plus, the smell that pushed above and around her seemed to come fresh from a garden; maybe a fruit tray? The figure was taller than her, but that didn't mean it had to be a guy and to top it all off, there came a warm billowing sensation that poured over her back starting at her shoulder blades. It seized her like a pillow of sorts and while her squirming body fought the snares that entrapped her, the linen soft pillows seemed to invite her deeper and deeper. She sank into it against her will like a lead stone was wrapped around her ankle as she was slowly being dragged into the darkness of the sea. Except there weren't stars in the sea. . . was she seeing stars?
It was already too late.
The first sensation Jasmine experienced after her blackout was the taste of saltiness. Then her forehead and shoulders started to tickle in lines and her eyes started to itch. She was alarmed and opened them but found that her hair was in the way and the itching from before had evolved into burning. She hissed as sweat dripped into her right eye from a blade in her hair. Her own sweat. Her good eye absorbed her surroundings and found them unfamiliar. The vast room was decorated with crystal fixtures and a huge circular bed. She noticed there was a jacuzzi tub in the same room and that there was a light coming from a crack in a door far off on her left.
