Veneer Read Online Free PDF Page A

disgusting. Perhaps we can discuss your biological processes again at a later time?”
    “Dork,” she replied, kissing him quickly on the nose.
    “Once more and I’ll be writing you up, Ms. Collier,” said Coach Baird. “And you shouldn’t encourage her, Mr. Bishop.”
    “She beats me if I refuse,” explained Deron. He gave Rosalia a wink and then disappeared into the boys’ locker room.
    Rosalia presented Coach Baird with her most innocent veneer, but he didn’t seem to find it amusing. He pointed to the girls’ locker room and she acquiesced with a giggle. She didn’t blame him for his tough demeanor; it was his burden to maintain order amongst a gaggle of hormone-crazed teenagers. She couldn’t think of a harder job in the school except for whoever had to clean up after the boys in their locker room. Already their hollering spilled into the hallway.
    Not that the girls’ locker room was a bastion of civility; the snide remarks and judgmental glances made it a minefield of self-doubt. Rosalia did her best to stay out of it, to ignore the comments about someone’s thighs or the contents of their bra. All she had to do was focus on the basic sequence of events that would get her in and out with the minimal amount of fuss. Even the nudity didn’t bother her anymore; the desire to get out of her sweaty clothes and into a cool shower outweighed any lingering sense of shame.
    There were always a few whispers as she passed the other girls, comments about Deron and conjectures about how far they had gone. Mostly, the talk just put pictures in her head, visions of what it would be like if she ever went to bed with him. Smiling at the thought, she stepped into the shower room and felt a wave of steam pass over her face. In the stalls, a few of the girls were already soaping up, trying to get clean without getting their hair wet.
    The first drops of water were cold, but they warmed quickly as Rosalia put her face under the stream. It felt like a soft massage on her eyelids, little pokes and prods around her mouth. She parted her lips, drew in some water, and pushed it out again. The sudden deluge moved down her chin and neck, reminding her of Deron again. Unlike on the treadmill, here she could close her eyes, put away the bright and flashy world for a moment and live just within herself. It was a state of consciousness that she was always trying to teach Deron about, but he seemed more interested in the real and physical, as most boys were. Still, there were moments when he almost understood, when they would sit together with their eyes closed, not talking, hands barely touching, and be satisfied.
    Rosalia withdrew from the waterfall and brushed her hands over her eyes. On her right, Ilya’s head appeared over the neck-high partition.
    “What are you thinking about?” Her veneer was slight at best, making her smile more sincere than its reconciled counterpart. Although they had shared classes for most of the year, it was the first time that Ilya had ever really engaged in conversation.
    “Nothing,” replied Rosalia, dispensing some soap into her palm.
    “My grandmother says that when a woman closes her eyes and sways to music only she can hear, she is always thinking of a man.”
    “Then you know who I was thinking about.”
    Ilya smiled thinly. “I heard you guys have gone all the way,” she whispered. “Is it true?”
    “What do you think?”
    “It’s hard to tell,” she admitted. “But there has to be a reason you’re so calm compared to these other girls.” She motioned with her head to the stall across the aisle.
    Rosalia glanced back and saw the borderline anorexic body of Vera Delgado covered in suds. She huffed and said, “Not even a good fucking could solve her problems.”
    Ilya giggled as she pulled her hair together behind her head.
    “Can you keep a secret?” asked Rosalia, leaning closer to the wall. Her shoulder touched the cold tile, sending a small shiver up her spine. “We