Chapter 6

By the time Joan got home from school, Sam was back on the couch, reading as though nothing had happened. Joan called "Yo!" to him as she went clattering up the stairs to her room to drop her book-bag. She pulled out a sheaf of papers and brought them back down to him.

"Here," Joan said, handing him the papers, and settling down into the chair. He was looking a lot better, she thought. "This is the work you missed; Gina gave it to me."

"Thanks a lot," Sam said, flipping through it. "Not too bad. Hopefully I can finish most of it tonight. I appreciate it, sis."

"No problem, squirt," Joan said, grinning at him. When she'd heard about his collapse she'd been really frightened for him. Though she would never have admitted it before, she had always been fond of her younger brother. They had quarreled fairly often, as any two kids so close in age would do; but there had always been a friendliness there, as well. Now she was just happy to see him so well. She watched him as he looked over the homework with the intent expression he often used. He was really rather handsome, she thought idly. It had never really struck her before. Sam looked up and caught her looking at him; Joan blushed a bit, unaccountably, but Sam gave her a smile that made her smile as well. Really, quite handsome. Sexy, even.

"So, did you have a good day?" Joan asked him.

"It was all right."

"Mrs. Severson look in on you?"

"Yeah. She made me lunch, and we talked a while. She's nice," he added.

"I thought she kind of annoyed you, sometimes," Joan said curiously.

"Well, sometimes. But not today." He looked back down at his papers, and Joan got up.

"I've got to take a shower," she said. "I'm going out tonight."

"Who with?" Sam asked without looking up.

"Just some friends. It's not a date, or anything." Why had she said that? It didn't matter to him. With an inward shrug she went upstairs to the bathroom. Stripping off her clothes, she looked at herself critically in the mirror. For a long time she had despaired of ever developing a figure, but in the last couple of years her breasts and hips had really sprouted. She wasn't voluptuous -- not as much as her mother, who really had a body to die for -- but nicely curved. She could often feel boys' eyes clinging to her trim figure as she walked by, or having to force themselves to keep looking at her face rather than her chest as she talked to them. Sometimes this annoyed her, and sometimes it amused her, but she would rather have it than not.

Joan brushed back her neck-length, red-brown hair and examined her face. Green eyes, like her mother; her face still had some of the roundness of childhood, but a hint of cheekbones was now present. Maybe in a few years she would be as pretty as Mom, she thought. She hoped so.

She stepped into the shower and adjusted the temperature to her liking, then soaped herself up. For some reason the touch of her own skin seemed more sensual than usual. Running her hands over her body, she turned under the spray. I wonder if Sam thinks I'm pretty, she thought. Of course, I don't know what his tastes are; he's never had a girlfriend...

Almost reluctantly she turned off the water and dried herself. Normally she would have put on her bathrobe before going to her room, but it seemed silly to bother with it when there was just Sam in the house. The air felt deliciously cool on her skin as she went to her room. Sam was evidently still down in the living room. Without bothering to close her door, Joan went in and got fresh underwear out of her drawer. She rummaged through the closet; what should she wear tonight? There were two or three possible outfits, but she wasn't sure. With a sigh of vexation she took several hangers of clothes out of the closet and walked downstairs.