The Valedictorian Part One

I didn’t do well in high school. I was the girl that studied a bit too much, didn’t drink or blow guys in the bathroom, wasn’t a cheerleader or hell, even go to the football games. I liked hanging out with my parents. I loved reading good old volumes of American poetry. Rather that work out for a good show at the beach, I went swimming with dad, played tennis with my brother, and generally took my body for what it was meant to be, something to transport me from here to there. I didn’t get stylish haircuts or the new clothes mostly because my family didn’t have the money, but also because I didn’t see the point in it. I wore sweats to play tennis in. I didn’t have sexy bras because they generally didn’t make sexy bras in my size. I wore a one piece to swim for the same reason and generally it just made more sense.

The last week of school seems more annoying that most any other of the entire year. The guys were more full of themselves, more drunk, and the girls more whorish. I walked into the bathroom on Wednesday and witnessed a girl in my calculus class sucking some guy off against the wall. The school was slowly sliding into a cesspool. I skipped the last few days, my first cuts my entire school year, and got ready for graduation. I had been accepted to Yale and as the validictorian of the class, I would give the address. It wouldn’t be something from Say Anything.

It wasn’t. I got through it, but I saw the eyes rolling. I couldn’t find my parents to see their smiles. I could have cared less about my classmates. I missed seeing my proud father. It didn’t take long. After everything was over, my father found me, gave me a big hug, and telling I wanted to leave, told me it was time to go celebrate.

I got drunk for the first time in my life. It didn’t take long. Dad opened a bottle of wine and didn’t let me get an empty glass.

“As long as you aren’t driving young lady, drink up.”

Heard that a few times, at least until I couldn’t really hear or see much. I drank with my dad and mom, my aunt and cousins, and even my older brother than had arrived late from school.

I woke up on my bed facing the foot. I didn’t have my pants on and had a tee shirt on inside out. My head hurt like nothing I had ever felt. I struggled to get out of bed. I was sweating bad and had to pee something fierce. I wiped the sweat from my face and under my breasts and made my way to the bathroom. David was already in there. I could hear the shower going. We shared a bathroom between our rooms, popularly called a Jack and Jill bathroom, but the only Jill around was the girl David lost his virginity too, and she was a total cheer whore.

“I’m coming in so stay in there. I gotta pee and I cant wait till your done in there.”

I sat down and the relief began almost immediately.

“So excited to go to the beach?”
“What are you talking about?” I was finishing up. Mid wipe I paused at his response.

“Well little Miss Lush, dad got us a beach house for the week. Just you and me.”

“Your shitting me.” I pulled my panties up, and began to remember, only slightly something about the beach the night before.

“Yup, and dad’s giving us a thousand dollars to have a good time with. Says hes been saving up all year for it. Excited?” The shower was off now. The towel pulled from the curtain rod.

“Yeah, but you know im not the beach type, but I can bring some good books.”

“You’ll do more than that.” He pulled the curtain back. I was pooping a zit in the mirror. I turned around as he first looked at me. I was in my panties. He was in his towel. The conversation tailed off. “We gotta get you laid.”

I just left. I was embarrassed. Not that I was sexually attractive to my brother or anything, but I had my granny panties on and didn’t exactly like anyone seeing my boobs without a bra on, even though they were hidden. They weren’t exactly hard to notice. I sat on the bed and tried to get my headache to go away. When I opened my eyes, David was standing in the doorway.

“But before we go, we gotta go shopping. You obviously need some new undies and girl, you gotta hold those things up.” He laughed and turned around to leave. I didn’t have the chance or the energy to make a fuss. I just laid back and got under the covers.

The three weeks passed by pretty fast. Mom took me shopping and insisted on buying me two new bathing suites. I didn’t think they fit. Mom said that’s what a two piece was suppose to look like. We went to an upscale place in the mall and I got refitted for my bras. I was depressed at the size, but never felt better when I tried the first one on. My boobs actually stayed up and my back felt so much better. At lunch we talked about out 800 dollar bill and how amazing it was that we both had the wrong size. Mom went from a 38dd to a 36f. I went from a 38e to a 34g.

We spent more money at Macy’s, mom “bringing me into womanhood” through her own private makeover. All I could think about was the money she was spending and how angry dad would be, but when we got home, dad merely said, “lets have a fashion show Miss Yale.”

The ride to the beach took two and a half hours. It was late June and already hot. By the time we got there I was sweating like a whore in church. We unpacked and David went to the store. The house was hot as hell, and since mom did my packing (I think it was a conspiracy), I had little choice what to wear. I put on the black bathing suite mom had picked out, but put on a jean skirt she said was cute and went to the back deck overlooking the water. I sat down with a book under the awning and laid back and started to read.