Remove Curse

Lee’s friend TB had been coming around a lot since school started. He had a new car and he and Lee went out cruising all the time. “TB” was short for “Terabyte” - Said it was his “street name”. Dude was from the suburbs, just like the rest of us. I’d always hated him: every time Lee had ever been in trouble, TB was responsible. Occasionally over the years TB had pestered me, but mostly we had always ignored each other.

Harry and I were sitting at the kitchen table unboxing a new board game when I got fed up with TB’s blatant staring. “What exactly are you looking at, TB?” I challenged.

“Ah, I’m just looking forward to our night together,” he said smoothly.

“Our what?!?” I came back. “In your dreams!”

“Ah, it’ll happen. It’s written in the stars,” he said with a cocky grin. “I’ll see you on the end of my cock, giving up your cherry.”

I put my hand on Harry’s knee under the table to make she he didn’t do anything stupid. I mean, a girl likes a guy who’ll fight for her, but Harry would have been slaughtered, even if Lee stayed out of it. TB wasn’t especially big, but he was fit as hell - muscles in all the right places. He was an asshole, but the boy took care of himself.

“Never gonna happen! I hate you!” I told him. But my mind was filling with doubt, connecting the dots.

TB laughed, looking to Lee to see if he’d join in the joke. “Shit, do you know how many bitches who hate me end up riding my dick? In your case, I’ve got photographic evidence before it even happens!”

I was fuming, but Harry was calm. “Let’s see the tattoo,” he challenged.

TB grinned at Harry and then pulled up the leg of his shorts to show us the tattoo on his thigh. It was a tribal design, but I couldn’t tell if it was the same as the one in the video. Harry and I left in a hurry.

I poured over the video time and time again looking for some piece of evidence that the guy in the video wasn’t TB, but everything supported the idea: skin tone, muscles, tattoo. I was desperately worried that TB was right.

Harry calmed me down and we came up with a plan. I was going to get a tattoo of my own - maybe a hippogriff - on my breast or somewhere else where my dad would never see it. We were going to make it impossible for the virginity video to come true.

My dad burst in to the tattoo parlour while I was looking at samples. It turned out that one of the guys who worked there was on my dad’s bowling team, and had seen pictures of me. The guy called my dad, figuring he had a right to know. Dad asked for an explanation, but what could I tell him? He was more upset that I had nothing to say than about the tattoo in the first place. I was grounded for three weeks.