The Secret of Zormna Clendar - Julie Steimle (best autobiographies to read .txt) 📗

of them had large backyards. But all of them, in the end, wanted to practice at Zormna’s owned-home, as everybody wanted a peek inside the crazy lady’s house. It had to be endured, Zormna decided. And she agreed.

When the final bell rang, Mrs. Ryant took Zormna aside before she could escape out the door.

“That was excellent the way you handled the class. I have never seen them so excited. You have some outstanding leadership skills.” Putting her arm around Zormna (again with the touchy-feely nonsense), Mrs. Ryant asked, “Did you hold any leadership positions in that military school of yours?”

Did she? Zormna tilted her head in an unusually modest shrug, reminiscing with homesickness. “Oh, yes. I ran an entire district.” 

She wished she could tell Mrs. Ryant more. Sometimes that feeling swelled inside her to the point of bursting, wishing to really share with that woman her true feelings about Home and how much she missed it. However, that was forbidden. So Zormna merely nodded then hurried into the hall toward her next class. Zormna could feel the questioning eyes of her teacher on her as she left.

Admittedly, Zormna rushed to the PE locker room feeling giddy. She hadn’t felt that happy in a long time. It was like flying high in the wind. So much adrenalin, and so much success. And for that brief moment she did not feel trapped.

Scrambling to her PE locker to dig out her shorts and shirt, she placed her books inside and gathered her clothes. Unlike the other girls, Zormna always changed in the bathroom stalls. They said she was being a prude about it, but she didn’t care. Flesh exposure was not her thing.

But as she hurried, she stopped midway. In front of her, long massive lines had formed at the bathroom stalls as though every girl taking PE that hour had to use the toilet.

Zormna tried to push in. “Excuse me? But I need to—”

“Wait your turn!” one of the girls from her class snapped at her, shoving her back.

Weird. So unusual. Puzzled, Zormna walked away from the stalls. She glanced once or twice at the growing lines, wondering. Maybe they too were tired of dressing in such an exposed manner. Only a few girls had not entered the line. They changed in their usual spots. Searching around more, Zormna crept into the damp recesses of the locker room that she usually did not venture to. The showers. They were vacant. And private enough.

Peeking around the corner, Zormna hastily undressed. Her medallion pulled loose when she took off her top, flopping out and hanging from her neck on the long chain. Hastily tucking the round metal symbol back into her bra, Zormna re-attached the chain to her bra straps and pulled on her white tee shirt. She doubled-checked to make sure the necklace was not visible, especially the round lump that pressed next to her breast. At times when Michael stared, she wondered if he could see it and wasn’t just ogling her breasts. Both were bad, of course. But noticing the medallion would be a problem. Jennifer didn’t even know about it. ‘Jeff’ most certainly didn’t.

Pulling on her shorts, Zormna grabbed her shoes and socks next and jogged back to her locker. The crowd to the stalls had only barely diminished when she passed by.

Off to PE.

Her teacher had said something the other day about a change in sports. Something about aquatics, though Zormna wasn’t exactly sure what he meant by that. To be honest, her teacher stared as bad as Michael at times. It got distracting, if not unsettling. But Coach Baker at least attempted to check himself. Most days when she walked to her place in the line, all eyes followed her as she sat down. The boys always blinked with excited faces. And though Zormna regularly tried to listen to Coach Baker’s instructions, she was often distracted by all the awkward smiles from the boys, as well as the narrowing eyes of her female classmates. There were days when Zormna drew in a breath and sighed, pulling her arms over her legs, leaning against her knees to conceal her figure.

It wasn’t quite like that when she grew up. Then again, she had finished school before her feminine contours had entirely filled out. But these days she hourly endured the boys ogling her and the girls hating her.

Zormna wondered where she would be watched and hated today.

Going to the activities board, she read up on the day’s event.

 

Swimming—gather in the indoor pool along the west wall. Do not sit in the bleachers.

 

Swimming?

Zormna glanced at the other girls in her class. A trickling line of them tramped through the door to the open hall with a school-issue towel wrapped around their waists, all of them wearing nothing but one-piece, skin tight suits that covered only the torso of their bodies. No sleeves. None at all. And the suits hardly covered their bottom halves either. Some of the girls giggled, where some of the others were flushed with a sense of embarrassed modesty. Zormna felt her own face warm as she followed them outside.

Peeking around the corner first, Zormna followed them out the door to a standalone building on campus she had never entered before. It was near the parking lot and had large glass windows and a high vaulted ceiling. It echoed with the chatter of anticipation and laughter.

Zormna peered in the doorway before stepping inside. Inside the floor was this enormous rectangular pool filled with water. Two pools, actually. One had a pair of diving boards with deep blue water. The other was much shallower with black lines that marked the bottom. When she entered the spacious room, Zormna detected a strong chemical odor she was not familiar with. She scrunched her nose.

Another class gathered on the opposite side of the room—possibly two. Zormna hardly gave them a look, drawn to the incomprehensible body of water that apparently they were going to do some sort of sport in. Crouching to the edge of the nearest pool, the large shallow one, she reached out and touched the glassy, liquid surface.

It rippled.

She drew back her hand and peered at her damp fingers, then at the depth of the water.

Showers. Water in the sink. Water in the toilet…but she had never dared fill the tub in the McLenna’s home. So much water in one place. This was unreal. Recreational water in a large pool? It felt partway between shameful decadence and glorious ecstasy.

She touched the water again.

The ripples rolled out in beautiful concentric circles. The world reflected upside down wiggled as if pleased. A faint smile formed on her lips.

“Where’s your swimming suit, Zormna?” ‘Jeff’s’ voice echoed from across the room.

Ecstasy gone.

Closing her eyes, Zormna groaned inside. That rat was there.

Zormna rose, opening her eyes with a narrow glare to where the voice had come from.

The wrestling team was there—including Al and ‘Jeff’—all of them standing shirtless along one wall. ‘Jeff’ looked deathly white next to everyone else—especially compared to Brian’s tan. All of them looked disappointed that Zormna had not come in a bathing suit. Ugh. Even Brian. And she had such high hopes he wasn’t so pathetically stupid.

‘Jeff’ had on his usual smirk, despite how behind him his teammates were casting jibes at his lack of tan. They were ignoring, or trying to ignore, the collection of scars on his back and shoulders. But ‘Jeff’, like Zormna, had a thick skin when it came to that sort of thing.

Scowling, Zormna lifted her chin, turned, and strode straight to the benches where her class was gathering.

Coach Baker spotted her. The coach shook his head. “Clendar, didn’t you know you needed a swimming suit this hour?”

Swimming suit?

Then it dawned on her. He had mentioned it.

Ducking a fraction between her shoulders, Zormna shook her head. She gestured to the girls in the class. “You don’t mean one of those things, do you? I suppose I misunderstood when you told us.”

The coach sighed. “Well, make sure you have one here tomorrow.”

Urg. Zormna glanced back at ‘Jeff’ then at the girls’ sleeveless, cleavage-displaying outfits. This was going to be a problem.  

“I do not own one,” she said.

Coach Baker looked down at her cockeyed then ventured a question. “Can you even swim?”

Oh, relief. And a good excuse. Zormna shook her head again, ducking a little more. She noticed that teachers pitied those girls that appeared a little helpless. She hoped it would work. “No.”  

 “But you tend to learn most sports fast.” Her coach smiled with a nod.

Crud. Scrapes. Blast it. How do they say it? ‘Damn!’

 The coach repeated, “See that you get a suit for tomorrow, and I’ll teach you.”

Urg. This definitely was going to be a problem. Zormna did not peek back at ‘Jeff’ this time. Taking in a deep breath then letting it out again, Zormna knew this was going to be trouble. She turned, going to her place against the wall.

“Her? In a swimming suit?” ‘Jeff’s voice echoed across the room again. “Ha! That’s a laugh. She’s so prude, you were lucky to get her in shorts!”

Several of the girls snickered. Even some of the boys joined in.

Zormna stiffened. Turning her eyes with an acrid glare his way, she wished she had something to throw.

Coach Baker shook his finger at Jeff, marching towards him. “That’s enough out of you, Streigle!”

Todd snapped for ‘Jeff’ to knock it off also. So did Brian, redeeming himself—if only a little. Al thumped ‘Jeff’ on the back of his head—though ‘Jeff’ merely laughed, enjoying Zormna’s seething glare.

She turned away, folding her arms tightly across her chest. It’s not worth it to react. It’s not worth it to react. It’s not worth it to react. It’s not worth it to react…she told herself in a mantra. Again and again. Over and over.

She sat with the other girls along the wall.

After chiding the scar-faced rat, ‘Jeff’, Coach Baker walked back to their class and called for the students to start their muscle stretches.

The other classes watched.

Zormna followed the instructions, bending from her waist perfectly, as such calisthenics were really basic.

The boys drew in breaths. The girls whispered.

‘Jeff’ groaned.

*

Jennifer was startled by the knock at her door that afternoon. She had been doing homework. She was even more startled when it was Zormna poking her head in, appearing embarrassed while asking a favor Jennifer never thought she’d hear.

“On one condition,” Jennifer said, looking Zormna squarely in the eye. “You have to tell me more about Jeff.”

Zormna groaned, shoulders hanging. But she was hooked.

Jennifer borrowed their mother’s car and drove them both to the Pennington Heights Mall.

“You mean…you’ve never been swimming?” Jennifer asked as they walked through the malls doors together.

Unwillingly, Zormna admitted, “No. It was not necessary where I lived. Nor was it required. We were not Navy Seals. And believe me, I would not ask for this help if I could do this on my own.”

Jennifer knew that to be so. Zormna disdained all ‘girly’ things like shopping, the color pink (though she oddly liked peach), makeup, high heels, and dresses. Shopping for a swimsuit was definitely categorized under ‘girly’. In fact, Zormna had avoided going to the mall since her last visit, even though Jennifer had begged she come with her on a number of occasions before. And the only reason Jennifer had begged was because Pennington Heights Mall was the hangout place and you did not go alone.

As usual, the Mall crawled with teenagers from Pennington, Monroe, and Billsburg. It stood at the intersection of all three towns. Most were hanging out and gawking at the others of the opposite sex in the food court. Todd usually hung out with his pals there when they had nothing better to do. In fact, Jennifer spotted them when they went up the escalator.

Zormna wasn’t looking that way. Her eyes were on a man down a level who was wearing a suit and listening to an ear piece. Probably FBI.

Tugging on Zormna’s arm, Jennifer whispered, “Maybe we’d better go