Jon looked up at the exterior of the mansion looming over him. On normal days, he wouldn't have ever imagined himself standing where he was, about to do what he was doing. He wouldn't have ever imagined himself in this situation either. The clothes he had on were, in a word, embarrassing. To his surprise, after going upstairs post-argument, he found that the center had also replaced all of the clothes in his closet with things 'more suited to the new role you'll be assimilating into.' The most masculine thing in his closet, a #11 football jersey, was cropped ultra-tight to his body pushing out the front of his nonexistent chest, just as the black stretchy pants did all they could to mimic the same with his back-end.
Jon knocked on the door. Once. Twice. And felt more self-conscious each time he did so. If Sarah saw him like this, he'd be ridiculed for life! There was no stopping the gossip of her crowd, and the beat-downs he'd be receiving daily for being a sissy-boy. He briefly thought of leaving.
Just then, the door opened and Jon came face to face with bikini. Susan McMillan put one hand up on the door and cocked her hip out to the side. She wasn't modest, nor did she care to be. Actually, Jon felt a little relief that it was her. The way she carried herself. The confidence she had. Susan McMillan could really put herself out there. She had no problem being in front of a crowd no matter what she was wearing. The thought had never crossed his mind before, but he kind of admired that about Susan. She could really put on a show.
He gulped. "Uh is Sarah, home?"
Mrs. McMillan still stood there. Almost like she was sizing him up.
When she heard the word "Sarah" though, her demeanor instantly turned warm.
"Of course she is, sweetie. Just studying away upstairs! Come in, come in! You know, she's become quite the little Miss Smarty Pants since we signed her up for that program. Are you going to be a computer programmer too? By the way, I just love your outfit."
Between the thought of Sarah McMillan studying, and Susan complimenting outfit he put together in two minutes, Jon wasn't sure which one made him give an amused smile back at the swimwear-clad mother of one.
"No uh pro professional cheerleader, I guess." It was hard for him to get that last part out.
Susan put her hands on her hips in mock-surprise.
"Oh! Well aren't you lucky? I'm sure you're going to be quite the little heartbreaker when they're done with you. A week ago, my little Sarah would've killed to be in your place..."
Jon began to make his way up the stairs before she could finish.
" I'm a little out of practice, but if you need help, don't be a stranger "
God, was everyone mental? He wasn't sure why Susan kept talking about Sarah in two tenses, like she was now a different person. At least now he knew why she was in the program - her parents forced her. Served her right. Jon assumed the McMillans finally got tired of having a do-nothing snotty daughter around the house and wanted her to get some responsibility for once. Maybe this would be good for her.
Jon wasn't sure what to expect as he turned the bedroom door's knob and pushed it open. But, when he did - one thing was for certain. This was NOT Sarah McMillan...
