Part 1: Monday

Chapter 1: Frankie

I suppose it was inevitable, huh? I mean, it looked like they were going through the baseball team one-by-one. First Mike and Lily, then Ed-and now me. March/April seemed to be Baseball Player's Month in The Program. You'd think they'd let us ballplayers do this at a time when we didn't have to go out on to the field naked. Ah, well. Not that that would have done me any good, anyway-I play soccer during the fall.

I'm Frankie Gutierrez. Francisco Roberto Gutierrez DeJesus, if you want to get all technical (and Spanish) about it. I'm of Mexican heritage-though I was born here; right in Westport, as a matter of fact-my parents came from Mexico when they were teenagers. My grandparents-both sets-were poor folk who came here hoping for a better life for their children. My parents didn't let them down. Mom's a schoolteacher, and Dad's a computer programmer. We're not rich-Dad says that if he wanted to be rich, he wouldn't have had five kids-but we don't want for anything, not by a long shot. All of my Grandparents are still alive, and all take great pride in my parent's-and aunts' and uncles'-accomplishments. Family's a big thing to Mexicans.

And there's enough family in my house! I turn 17 in a couple weeks, and there was a hiccup after me-Mom had two miscarriages-but then the floodgates opened. Rosa is 12, Maria is 10, Gabriella is 7, and Ricardo is 5. After Ricardo, Mom said "finito!" Being the oldest of five in a Mexican family is a bit of a responsibility. I've done a lot of babysitting. I'm also supposed to lead by example. I think I do OK. I'm a good student. As I said, I play baseball and soccer-a pretty mean feat considering you wouldn't peg me as an athlete if you saw me walking down the hall. I really do love my brother and sisters. I have good friends and don't get into trouble.

I wondered how Mom and Dad would react to me being in The Program. We've discussed it at home-not a big surprise considering so many of my friends have been through it. Mom and Dad are still a bit Old School. They grew up Catholic. Now, with the changes in society, the Catholic Church some time ago stopped prattling about the evils of premarital sex and birth control and all that. I guess they were sick of empty pews. But my parents grew up with that, and it's sometimes hard for them to shake. They do try, though. When they got the info on The Program, and the form to fill out to opt me out of it, they told me it was my decision. I can talk to them about this kind of stuff, though Mom gets faintly scandalized. It's become kind of a joke-especially between me and my oldest sister, Rosa. Rosa started developing a few years ago, and started getting interested in that kind of thing. She hasn't done anything yet, of course, but she asks me questions, which I try to answer. We've always been close, despite the 5-year age difference. When she came along, I really wanted that elusive sibling, so I've doted on her her whole life. So, we talk, and she knows what sex is. And our big joke is that, whenever the topic comes up, Mom tries her best but always lets a "Madre de Dios!" escape her lips. When Rosa has a question she wants to ask, she'll come up to my room and say, "Hey, Frankie, I've got a question about 'Madre de Dios!'" It's funny.

Anyhow, so now it was my turn. How did I feel about it? Mixed, to tell you the truth. I'm nobody's sex god, let me tell you. I'm about 5'7", and not exactly muscular. To be honest, I'm scrawny. I'd probably be the type that people picked on, if I didn't have some athletic accomplishments. Luckily, fast-which I am-is better for soccer than big and bulky is. It's also better for playing center field. As for pitching-well, I get by. One thing I do have is nice, long, supple fingers. Mom jokes that I should've been a piano player. Instead, I put those fingers to use throwing a baseball. With my body, I don't throw hard. Hell, I have a girl teammate that throws 20 mph harder than I do! If I didn't like Lily a lot, I'd be jealous. But what my fingers do enable me to do is throw a ball that whistles "God Save The Queen" in seven languages on the way to the plate. Whatever gets the job done.

So, yeah, parading my scrawny body around Westport High in the nude wasn't my first choice of activities. But, you know, I really didn't have anything against it. I had seen so many friends go through it, and they all came out of it changed-and for the better. Of course, most of them also came out of it with Significant Others. I wasn't counting on that. I'm not Mister Suave with the girls. I'm everybody's buddy. I've had a few girlfriends-I'm not a virgin-but they always seemed to be short-lived. One ex-girlfriend told me I was "too easygoing." I still don't know what that meant! I've come to think it's code for "too scrawny." Hey, if girls really do think I'm too easygoing, I don't know what to do about that. When you're the oldest of five, you'd better be easygoing.

Anyhow, I walked into Mr. Tilling's office that Monday morning, and found him behind his desk.

"So, are we just checking off the names of the baseball team one by one, or what?" I joked.

He chuckled. "Come on in, Frankie. No, I'm not. You were selected for The Program this week, yes, but for a reason."

"OK, fill me in," I said.

"When your partner gets here."

"And who might that be?" I asked.

"Cassandra Vyshenko."

Ah, Cassie. Cassie and I had been friends forever. She moved to Westport the summer before fifth grade-moved in four houses down from me, as a matter of fact. We'd been friends since then. We weren't best friends-we ran with very different crowds, and I didn't like much of hers. I did like her, though. I often wondered how she ended up hanging with the status-is-everything catty-gossip crowd. Her two best friends, Missy Jenkins and Laura Elliot, I couldn't stand. And, for a while last school year and into the beginning of this one, she dated Nick Chase, who was the prototypical full-of-himself asshole football player. So, I didn't run with Cassie much. But I did like her-she was a lot different from her friends, which is why I often wondered why they were her friends-and Rosa was best friends with her sister, Tanya.

I knew, however, that they preferred not to pair up friends in The Program. I was about to ask Mr. Tilling about that, when Cassie walked in.

"Hi, Mr. Tilling. Hey, Frankie." I smiled at her. "Did you tell him anything yet?" she asked Mr. Tilling.

"No, Cassie, I was waiting until you got here."

"OK, then," she said.

"Frankie, Cassie has a special situation. She wasn't going to go into The Program at all, but she decided to give it a shot. Because she has an issue, we decided to let her pick her partner. She picked you."

"We've been friends forever," she smiled at me, "and I know you're not an asshole."

"She's going to need help. She's going to need a lot of help," Mr. Tilling said.

"Anything for a pal," I grinned at them, "but what's the big deal?"

"You'll find out," Mr. Tilling said mysteriously. "Time to strip. You first, Frankie."

I took off my shirt, and said, "Look. Scrawny arms, scrawny chest." I went for the pants and said, "And now, the scrawny legs. How this guy pushes off the mound is a mystery." Cassie was giggling. I then stripped off my underpants.

"Well, that's not scrawny," Cassie giggled.

I smiled at her. I didn't think it was all that impressive, but it was nice of her to say what she did.

"Now, you, Cassie," Mr. Tilling said.

She dropped the smile, and started fidgeting with her shirt. "I'm going to turn around, so you get the full effect after I get everything off." She turned her back to us, and started stripping-very hesitantly. There was something here I wasn't getting. Cassie was cute. She was petite-5'0" or 5'1", and probably not more than 100 or 110 pounds-but she was cute. She had longish, very curly light brown hair, which she often tied up in a ponytail or with a hairclip. She had cute blue eyes, an adorable button nose, and a smattering of freckles. I'd never seen her naked, but didn't see any cause to complain.

She finally finished, and turned around-and, at first glance, I really didn't see any cause to complain! Like I said, she was petite-which, under clothes, probably masked how curvy she was. Her breasts weren't huge-probably a B-cup-but they looked big on her small frame, and then were firm and pert. Her hips and ass were perfectly proportional. She was thin, but not skinny, if you know what I mean.

Her legs were perfect.

"My God, Cass, you're beautiful," I said. "I never knew how lovely you were." She beamed.

And then, I saw them. I really didn't see them until after I registered how beautiful she was-but, then, I did. Scars. A lot of scars. A whole lattice-work of them, covering her belly from right below her breasts down, all the way down her stomach and trailing off onto her thighs. They were clearly not new-but she'd obviously been through something major. If they had been new, they would have been nasty. Now I knew why going naked was a big deal for her.

She was looking at me expectantly. So, I asked. "What's up with the scars?"

She looked at me, and launched herself at me, wrapping me in a bear hug. "Thank you so much," she said.

"For what?"

"For telling me I was beautiful before you noticed the scars."

"That was genuine," I grinned. "I really did notice how gorgeous you were before I noticed the scars."

"I know. You're a sweetheart, you always have been. That's why I picked you." She sat down in one of the chairs across from Mr. Tilling. I sat next to her.

"A car accident. I was 8. This was before we moved here. I was in the car with my grandfather. Of course, at 8, I'm supposed to be in the back seat with a safety belt on, right? Well, I was a complete imp at that age. I had taken the belt off and climbed into the front seat, unbuckled, next to my Grandpa. Grandpa doted on me, and didn't have the heart to tell me to get back where I belonged. That haunted the poor man for years."

"Anyhow, it was at an intersection. We had the green light, but some idiot ran the red light from the other direction. Grandpa couldn't stop, and plowed right into him. The safety belt and air bag saved Grandpa, but I went right through the windshield."

"Oh, Jesus, Cassie," I interjected.

"Believe it or not, it could've been worse. The windshield shattered from the crash, so at least I didn't break through it. Since they tell me I went headfirst, that could've been it. Broken neck. I don't remember the crash, but they tell me that. What did happen is that my body went flying through the broken glass. They think I went facedown, because the glass above me was pretty cleared out. That's why my back really didn't have much damage, just a few scrapes from the falling glass. But my front scraped on jagged glass on the way out, and that's why I got cut so bad. The glass ripped me to shreds. Some of the scars-the straighter, more regular ones-are from subsequent surgery, but most of them are from the original cuts. They think I had my legs together, which is a good thing, because I got within an inch on either side of my vagina, but the glass missed that."

"It looks like it didn't miss much else," I said.

"No. I was in the hospital for quite a while. I lost my spleen. They had to repair my intestines. And I only have half a right kidney-luckily, the left one was undamaged. There were a lot of other things-I still get muscle pulls in my stomach. Plus one of my ovaries had to be removed. The other one's fine. Luckily, my uterus was unscathed." She gulped. "And I did almost die from the blood loss. There was an ambulance not too far away. They told my parents that five more minutes and I might not have made it."

"My God," was all I said.

"It was a long time ago," she said. "I'd like to say I'm over it. But I'm not. I don't wear a bikini. I won't wear a belly shirt. I don't take showers in gym. I make love in the dark, for goodness' sake. The only person who's ever seen this besides my family, until today, was Nick. And after he saw it, he wouldn't let me take my shirt off when we made love. Said it was 'gross'. That didn't help."

"That asshole," I said.

"You knew it before I did. Wish I'd have listened," she grinned at me. "Anyhow, I'm tired of being so self-conscious about it. I don't want to live in fear anytime someone might get a glimpse at my stomach. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of being with a guy, and either stopping it before it gets that far, or trying to hide it. I'm tired of going shopping with my main criteria being 'don't show any belly.' I'm tired of it. I need to get over it. That's why I told Mr. Tilling and Ms. T that I wanted to do The Program. Full immersion, get it over with."

"You live with it," I told her, "so you might not realize something. They're not as bad as you think they are. Nick's an asshole. I don't see anything 'gross' about your body at all." And I meant it. She was beautiful, and the scars didn't detract from that.

"Yeah, but Frankie, you are staring," she said-but she was grinning when she said it.

"Well, there's these two, on your right thigh. They form a little heart. It's kind of cute."

She looked down, and burst into laughter. "I never noticed that. It's not as obvious from this angle. But you're right, that is a heart." She turned and hugged me again. "Oh, I knew I picked right when I picked you!"

"What are friends for?" I smiled.

"OK, you two. Are you ready?" I nodded. Cassie did too, but not enthusiastically. "Frankie, she's your partner. You need to support her."

"I plan on it," I said, earning another big grin from Cassie. "Cass, you are one brave person, you know that?" She blushed, and beamed at me.

"Good. Get out of here," Mr. Tilling said.

We walked out of the office. I went first.

Chapter 2: Cassie

Yes, I was scared. A lot. But my life had gotten to the point where I had to do something-and this seemed like the best solution.

Look, what had happened to me was extremely traumatic, no surprise. It wasn't just physical-I needed therapy. I never have consciously remembered the accident, but I used to have horrific nightmares about it. And I do remember the recovery, which was traumatic enough.

So, I could say I was over it, that I recovered. But I lived with the reminder. And I'd live with the reminder every day for the rest of my life. It had gotten all bound up together. Every time I chose a one-piece bathing suit-and kept shorts on over it--every time I insisted on turning the lights off with a boyfriend, every time I held a shirt up to me to see if it showed the slightest hint of belly-it came back to me. Self-consciousness about the scars and reliving the trauma of the accident were all mixed up together. Therapists had told me for years that I had to come to terms with the scars. I thought I was finally ready to at least try.

I tried once before-with a person who said he loved me. Frankie was right about Nick-he told me right when we started going out that Nick was bad news. I should've listened.

I've known Frankie since I moved to town. He's a sweetheart. We've never hung around together, but that doesn't diminish our friendship-we just move in different circles. When we see each other, out in the street or at school-we're friends. I've always liked him. And I knew he was a good soul at heart, which is why I picked him.

The thing is, if it weren't for the scars, I don't think I'd have any appearance issues. I'm petite, but I'm not rail-thin or anything. I have no issues with my facial features. I'm no Miss America, but I have no real issues. Except the scars. Frankie helped, with what he said. But Frankie was only one person.

He walked out of the office in front of me, to the waiting crowd. All of his friends were there. I didn't see any of mine. Ed Bauer greeted him with, "Hey, Frankie's naked! Another member of the ball team proudly strutting his stuff." He mock-sniffled. "Go make us proud, son." All of Frankie's friends laughed.

I knew all these people, but not well-as I said, Frankie and I traveled in different circles. So, I was nervous as I stepped out of the office. I quickly realized why Frankie hung around with these people.

"Jesus, Cassie," Mike Kirkland, Frankie's teammate on the ball team, said. "I never knew you were so curvy!"

"Damn right," Jared Wicklow agreed. "Cassie, you're a babe." I glowed all over. Dammit, maybe this wouldn't be that bad. Of course, after those nice words, they noticed. I could see them looking-and wondering what to say.

"Hey, Cassie," Ed Bauer broke the silence. "Do you know you have a map of Brazil on your stomach?"

I couldn't help it. I laughed. Frankie looked at him like he wanted to kill him, but then eased up when he saw me laughing. No, I didn't get offended. I knew Ed well enough to know that jokes were his thing. That was better than a horrified gasp. Especially when Ed kept it up. "Really!" he said, coming over and touching my stomach. "See, here's the Amazon, and this one here, that's Rio de Janeiro." I giggled-because it tickled!

"I like the little heart on her right thigh," Frankie grinned.

"Oh, yeah," Ed agreed. "Cassie," he said seriously, "what happened, anyway?" I explained about the car accident.

"Wow. And you're going through the program?" Lily Woodard asked me. "That's brave."

"That's what I told her," Frankie said.

"Well, I need to. And I asked for Frankie as a partner, because we're friends. This is really scary."

"I'll bet," Ed said.

"And I have to go to my first class, which Frankie isn't in," I said.

"Bio, right?" Mike asked me. "I'm in it." He turned to Frankie. "I'll keep an eye on her."

"Knew you would," Frankie grinned. "I'll see you third period," he said to me, and the group disbanded. Mike walked with me to bio.

"You guys really watch out for each other," I said to Mike.

"Yeah, we're pretty close-knit. Especially those of us who've been through The Program. Which is Jared and Amanda, Ed and Natalie, and me and Lily." He grinned. "Now you and Frankie."

"Yeah. It's neat that you all support one another."

"Well, you know, we know what to expect. By the way, watch out for the fondling," he grinned.

" That I can handle. Why, did you want a crack?" I teased.

"Well, let's see-I go out with a girl who could take my head off with a well-placed fastball. And I don't have any current Program participation myself as an excuse. So I think I'll just walk you to class and keep my hands to myself," he grinned.

"Lily's something else," I said. "I don't know if she knows how much she's a hero to a lot the girls in school. And moreso to younger girls-my sister Tanya and Frankie's sister Rosa, who are both 12, worship her for what she did."

"Oh, Jesus, don't ever tell her that, OK? All I need is for her ego to expand more," Mike laughed.

"She has a big ego?" I asked.

"Well, not in general. About pitching? Oh, you bet your ass," he laughed.

"I guess you'd have to have one to be that good-especially being a girl in a guy's game."

"Oh, don't think for a second I'm complaining," Mike said. "I love to watch some skeptical guy walk up to the plate against her-and then watch her blow him away with her 'take that, motherfucker' look in her eye. It's great."

"You really love her, don't you?" I asked.

"Yeah, I really do," he admitted.

"That's sweet," I smiled. "Hey, look, we're almost at class and I've escaped the groping."

"How'd that happen?" he laughed.

"Everyone took one look at my scars and backed away," I grumbled.

"Now, Cassie, don't assume that." We walked into class. I heard the murmuring-but then I heard the gasps. It was unmistakable. Not everyone, but enough for me to hear. Mike just patted my shoulder and walked to his seat.

"Cassie? How are you doing?" Ms. T asked me.

"Well, the ordeal has just started," I grinned. "We'll see."

She made me sit in front of the class. When the class quieted down, she said, "Guys, we have a Program participant in the class today. Cassie Vyshenko has decided to do The Program this week. She has a special motivation for doing so, and I'd like her to tell you about it."

So, I did. I talked about the scars, and about the accident. And I talked about the self-consciousness I had about the scars, and how it had affected my life. I told them that I hoped getting through the Program would help some of that. I got an ovation when I was done. That was nice.

My next period was Spanish, which was OK. Lily was in that class, and she sat next to me. Another one of Frankie's friends watching out for me. It really was incredible how close-knit they were.

Third period was where the trouble began.

It was history, and it was the first period that I shared with Frankie. However, there were other people in that class. My two best friends, Missy Jenkins and Laura Elliot. And the guy I had been dating for two weeks, Paul Ribeiro.

People have wondered how I could be such good friends with Missy and Laura. Frankie hasn't said much, but I know he doesn't like them. When I first moved to Westport, in fifth grade, they were the first friends I made besides Frankie. And I guess I'm a creature of habit. We've been a threesome since then.