The Secret of Zormna Clendar by Julie Steimle (best ereader for pdf TXT) 📕

head. “You do know that goes under your clothes, not over. Right?”

Zormna rolled her eyes. “I got the general idea. But I am not going to pose half-naked for you.”

“Fair enough,” Mrs. McLenna said with a shrug. She reached out, adjusting the straps. “So. How does it fit?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Zormna tugged on the cups then the straps up top. “Too tight in the chest. But it fits along my ribs. And there is this stiff thing underneath that kind of pokes—”

“We’ll get a larger cup size for you.” But Mrs. McLenna was smiling, nodding with satisfaction. “Now go back in and take that off while I go find one that fits better.”

Zormna obeyed.

It was easy to obey. As long as Mrs. McLenna gave orders rather than asked her if she liked any of what she had given her, she was ok. She didn’t like any of it except for the tee shirts. They were convenient and comfortable. Oh, and the cargo pants. She liked those. They made sense, especially with all those pockets.

Tossing off the too-small bra, Zormna waited morosely for the next item of torture.

That one came over the stall door, this time in taupe.

“They didn’t have it in white,” Mrs. McLenna said.

Zormna obediently tried it on.

And the next one.

And the next one…until they found one that comfortably fit. Or, at least was approximately comfortable.

Then Mrs. McLenna tossed over a selection of panties. “Choose one. We’ll be buying a pair for each day.”

Zormna lifted them up, one by one, and about fainted.

“Zormna?”

She stuck her head between her legs, breathing in and out. Were these people seriously stupid? Why did they wear so little underneath their clothes? What about chafing? Or pinched skin? She pulled at the elastic on each of them. Elastic burn? The back of these panties would ride up her backside if she used her full range of motion. What were they thinking?

“Zormna? Are you still in there?”

And what about respect for the human body? These items were so exhibitionist. A bow in the front of a breast holder? Stripes across her backside with words saying…what was it? Sexy? She wasn’t a piece of meat, for pity’s sake. Zormna tossed them all in the reject pile.

“Do you have anything more covering?” Zormna asked in an off-hand voice.

Mrs. McLenna laughed that irritating amused laugh again. “No.”

“How about I just wear shorts underneath my clothes? I saw a pair in that exercise clothing store we passed.”

Jennifer’s mother laughed even more. “Sorry. No. This is it.”

“You are punishing me. That is what is happening right now,” Zormna said, panting in desperation. “I cannot believe this is all you wear underneath your pants.”

“Zormna. This is what girls your age wear. I’m sorry,” Mrs. McLenna said, laughing a little less.

“What about women?” Zormna snapped. “Or little girls. I am smaller than Jennifer after all.”

“You want to own princess panties?” Mrs. McLenna asked dryly. “They’re pink with lace….”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” an attendant said, “We do stock plain white underwear. We have one that looks more like short shorts without elastic at the leg. It is to reduce panty-lines.”

Zormna leaned near the door. “Yes! Find it! Bring it over!”

Mrs. McLenna groaned. “I am looking for clothes that a high school girl would wear, though.”

“I do not care!” Zormna shouted, banging on the closed door. “Give me something comfortable!”

“Not to worry,” the attendant said with a glance to the closed door. “Models wear these. They’re smooth and perfect to wear with jeans.”

“Fine.” Mrs. McLenna muttered, sounding unhappy about it. It was definitely punishment. The woman was having her fun torturing her.

After a few minutes, the attendant returned with the sample panties, handing it under the door. Zormna took it, held it up, and blinked at it. It definitely was more fabric than the other ones, but low riding, like those jeans. Apparently, they were best option.

Heaving a breath, she passed it back. “This will do.”

“Great,” Mrs. McLenna said, sounding tired. “I guess this means we are done here. Get dressed, and we’ll head off to the shoe store next.”

Shoes. Zormna hefted a sigh, shaking her head. She had only ever owned two pairs, but she had seen Jennifer’s collection. Jennifer practically had a shoe for every color of the rainbow. That would be a lot of shoes to carry home. Just the thought of it made Zormna’s arms ache.

Shopping was never Zormna’s thing. Not that she needed to say this to Mrs. McLenna. The woman knew when she had come out of the stall that Zormna didn’t care how she looked. Her hair was askew, her shirt backwards, and all the clothes they were going to buy were mangled. It took a while to sort it all out before they could take anything to the counter to buy.

When at the register, ringing up all the purchases, Mrs. McLenna almost exploded from exasperation. “For pity’s sake, what is wrong with you? A normal girl would enjoy this.”

Zormna shrugged, too tired to care.

“Come along.” Mrs. McLenna loaded up Zormna’s arms with bags.

And Zormna obeyed.

The shoe store experience was less painful. Mrs. McLenna had Zormna’s feet measured first. They left the store with three pairs of shoes, and a collection of socks for all occasions.

As they walked out, dodging someone selling the latest health food supplement scheme, Mrs. McLenna glanced uncomfortably at Zormna then whispered, “Did you bring anything for your monthly…you know…?”

Zormna blinked up at her. “My monthly menstrual cycle?”

Blushing, Mrs. McLenna nodded.

Shaking her head grimly, Zormna murmured, “No…I actually forgot about that. Thank you for reminding me.”

“Those who sent you didn’t pack anything for you?” Mrs. McLenna waited carefully.

“No.” Zormna snorted. “They are men. They do not usually think about that kind of thing.”

“Oh.”

And they continued on back to the main atrium in silence—until Mrs. McLenna broke it again. “I’ll have Jennifer pass along what you need and show you how to use it.”

Zormna lurched to a stop. “Show me? Is it that different?”

“A little different,” Mrs. McLenna said with a shrug.

Ugh. Zormna groaned. How embarrassing. Jennifer was going to think she was an idiot, if she didn’t already.

They went to the food court. Mrs. McLenna ordered lunch for the both of them, telling her it would be a unique American experience.

“These are real hamburgers,” she said, carrying the tray to the table where they could sit and rest their weary bodies. They had spent the entire day at the mall, and were having a late lunch. So late that high school kids were already flooding in after school.

Mrs. McLenna set one hamburger in front of Zormna and one in front of herself. She placed a large container of french fries between them along with a couple of large chocolate shakes. “I decided to splurge.”

Zormna didn’t know what a splurge was, or how you did it. But if it meant choosing the most awkward kind of food to eat, she did it perfectly. Unwrapping the hamburger, she stared at it carefully, examining how Mrs. McLenna held hers. Food in the U.S., Zormna decided, was as evil as their underwear.

“Two hands,” Mrs. McLenna said.

Zormna tried two hands, copying her. The thin green thing in between the bread slipped out. Then the thin flat red thing fell out. The oozing red and yellow stuff dribbled to the table top.

“Hey! Hold it together! Don’t drip.” Mrs. McLenna pressed Zormna’s fingers tighter to the fluffy bun. “Keep the paper underneath it. You are losing pickles.”

Zormna nudged the paper with her elbow, huffing while trying to figure out which one of those things that fell were pickles.

Another green thing fell out.

“Ugh!” Zormna dropped the hamburger onto the paper, shaking off the red and yellow sauce from her fingers. “Why is your food so obnoxious?”

Mrs. McLenna chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t know…. Americans love things that are fun.”

“Obnoxious and fun are not the same thing,” Zormna growled, licking off the dripping sauce. That, surprisingly, was tangy and spicy.

Mrs. McLenna handed her a paper napkin.

“Table manners.”

Zormna groaned, taking the napkin.

“They matter,” Mrs. McLenna said.

Zormna decided it was best not to reply. Manners were also a matter of culture.  

“You don’t want to embarrass yourself at school tomorrow? Do you?” Mrs. McLenna said.

“No.” Zormna groaned.

“Here,” Mrs. McLenna picked up the burger and placed it back in Zormna’s fingers. “Hold down tight and eat fast. It is ok with a hamburger. When eating food with a knife and fork, eat slowly.”

So Zormna clenched it, stared hard at the burger, and took her first bite.

It was a flavor unique to its own. A collection of flavors, really. Some spicy, some juicy, some sweet. All of it together was strange. But not bad.

She took another bite, savoring it.

No. Not bad at all.

 

*

“Woah! Hottie, twelve o’clock,” Jonathan Baker, a tall Jewish boy with dark hair and a fine aquiline nose, exclaimed, staring into the food court. He had spotted Zormna first while coming off the escalator.

His pals were coming up after him, full of energy, laughing as they had been pent up in high school classes all day and they wanted to do something other than homework. Brian Henderson (a stockier all-American boy with a tan), was the first off after him. Wearing a bold blue and gold BYU tee shirt, Brian jogged to the food court railing to see what Jonathan was talking about. His eyes fixed on Mrs. McLenna who was now rising from her seat with the trays of burger papers and empty fry boxes. He leaned back. “Dude, that’s Todd’s mom.”

“Ooh!” Their friend Mark Wheley, who was a German-descended Lutheran with a broad smile and a sharp sense of humor, whooped it up with a slap to Jonathan’s back. “Jon’s after older women!”

“Shut it!” Jonathan slapped Mark on the back of his head. “Not her, the blonde.”

They didn’t see the blonde he was talking about until Zormna rose out of her chair, hefting the paper shopping bags off the table and into her arms. She hardly looked at them. Her almond shaped green eyes only took in their matching red-and-black letterman jackets for Pennington wrestling. Zormna then inched to Mrs. McLenna’s side and whispered.

Mrs. McLenna looked up, blinked once at the boys and sighed. Her voice was not so hidden. “Oh. Some of Todd’s friends. You’ll meet them soon enough.”

“I see.” Zormna’s posture relaxed.

Both of them headed towards the broad stairs that would take them to the ground floor. The boys watched them in a mixture of awe and yearning. Mrs. McLenna nodded to Brian when they went past, but ignored the others as she went by. Zormna ducked her head between her shoulders, attempting to keep out of their sight.

“Why did you ask? Are you interested in any of them?” Mrs. McLenna chuckled as she trotted down the first set of steps.

The boys straightened up, watching to see if the blonde would look back. But she hardly did.

“No. They were just staring.” Zormna’s Irish trill caught their attention.

Mrs. McLenna’s reply echoed against the smooth walls. “Those boys are ok. Not too much trouble. But you shouldn’t associate with their other friend, Jeff.”

Zormna glanced back. Her eyes counted three boys.

The boys checked out the curve of Zormna’s healthy figure and sighed.  

“Why?” Zormna asked.

“He’s trouble.”

Mrs. McLenna and Zormna turned the corner, vanishing from their sight as they went under the floor. All three boys jogged to the other rail to watch the two pass through the outside doors. Mrs. McLenna pushed on it with her back as the blonde glanced up at them once more. Her exotic green eyes narrowed, counting them again critically.

Leaning heavily on the balcony rail, all three boys sighed.

“A goddess. Aphrodite reborn,” Jonathan murmured.

“Do you think she’s Todd’s cousin?” Mark asked yearningly. “She sounded Irish.”

Brian shrugged, turning around. He heard feet approaching fast.

“Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?” Jeff Streigle jogged across the food court out from the escalator. Pale, his long bangs to his midnight black hair flopped into his equally dark eyes as he waited expectantly for an answer. He looked exactly like Mrs. McLenna has