Life Before Damaged, Vol. 9: The Ferro Family by H. M. Ward Page B

places both hands on either side of my face and studies me. I need her to be crass right now. I don't want to think about why I'm really here. “I don’t mind at all," she says biting her lip, and then looks over her shoulder. "I was kind of in the middle of something buuuut...”
    Her friendly smile morphs into an expression I know all too well. It’s THE LOOK, the one that has gotten us into trouble so many times as kids, the one I've been hoping to see. “Why don’t you join me? I’m gonna make you try something completely out of your comfort zone, princess.”
    “Uh...”

WTF DID I JUST DO?
November 16th, 7:46pm
    " S o thanks for stopping by , and we'll call you again soon. Talented hands like that are hard to find." Erin gives Whatever-His-Name-Is some money, then closes the door behind him. She walks back over to where I'm standing, placing herself behind me and pushing my hair over to one side, clearing my left shoulder.
    “I can’t believe we did this, Gee. I’ve been waiting for so long, I just never thought I'd do it with you. Wasn't it amazing? You know, I’m kinda proud of you. Virgins are usually more discreet their first time. This is just--wow! I mean, look at you! You look so beautiful,” Erin gushes. She’s forcing me to see my reflection in her mirror. WTF did I do?
    I turn around halfway and swat Erin on the arm. “Shut up. We'll call it extreme cherry popping and leave it at that. I’m never doing this again. Holy shiznit!” I speak Yiddish now. All the kids are doing it. I turn my back to her and look at myself in the mirror with disbelief.
    “Of course you're doing this again. It's addictive. Especially considering how bitchin' you look. Hot damn, baby-cakes!” Erin says proudly, using her foot to kick away her sweat pants and my top from around our feet on the floor.
    I let out a nervous laugh, “Baby-cakes? You need to stop hanging around Ricky.”
    Erin's face drops when I mention Ricky. There's something there she's not telling me. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and she puts on a plastic smile. I open my mouth to ask, but she cuts me off. "Hold still. This may sting like a bitch, but it’s part of the fun!”
    I nod and stare at myself in the mirror. No more regrets, Gina. The thrill of what I’ve just done is slowly catching up. I don't care how much trouble I'm going to get into over this. This is for me. This is me, now more than ever.
    Standing in nothing but my bra and jeans, I turn around to take a look at my back in the mirror, and it’s just as amazing as the front. Big red roses, linked together by thorn-covered stems, decorate my left shoulder. They spill onto the upper part of my arm and cascade down onto my shoulder blade. Underneath the roses, a black lace-like pattern adds femininity and delicateness to the design. It's perfect.
    I needed a clear reminder of who I was, who I am, and who I want to be. With everything that's happened, I don't want to lose myself in the chaos. Pete's right--I am like a rose, both delicate and strong all at once. Handle me roughly and my petals may wilt, but not before you feel the sting of my thorns.
    I wince when Erin touches me. Applying the ointment stings like a wicked sunburn and I inhale sharply, biting down on my bottom lip to keep from yelping out in pain.
    “So you don’t think Mama Ferro is going to murder you for this?" Erin's tone is mischievous. "What about that good girl image clause? Wasn't that to make them look more amiable in the public eye?” With the ointment, my tattoo glistens under the loft's overhead lighting.
    “Screw my image.” My chest squeezes painfully around my lungs. My eyes burn with the all too familiar feeling of tears begging to escape.
    I'm so sick of crying over Peter Ferro. I don't want to love him, but I do. Meanwhile, he loves someone else--whatever his newfound notion of love is.
    I bend down to pick up my top, but can’t put it back on. It has sleeves. "Erin? Can I borrow one of your