Faces of Fear

see what I bought.”

The door opened, Risa stepped inside, caught sight of the dress, and stopped short, staring at her daughter in silence.

Seconds ticked by.

The silence stretched.

“You hate it,” Alison finally said, her voice cracking as she realized the dress looked so bad on her that her mother couldn’t even bring herself to speak.

But then her mother was smiling.

“Hate it?” Risa repeated. “How on earth could I hate it? It’s absolutely gorgeous! I just never dreamed you’d choose something so dressy.”

“Dawn and Tasha picked it out for me,” Alison said, rising back up to her tiptoes and piling her hair up the way Crystal had told her in the store. “What do you think? Is it way too old for me?” But even before her mother answered, Alison saw the approval in her eyes.

“Given the occasion, I think it’s perfect,” Risa said. “Your friends have good taste. All we have to do is find you the right shoes and get your hair done, and you’ll be the prettiest girl at the party, which is exactly as it should be.”

A flood of relief flowed through Alison, but as she turned back to the mirror to see what her mother was visualizing, she caught sight once more of the bodice, and her relief drained away. “I don’t know,” she said, her fingers going to the loose top. “This doesn’t seem to fit quite right.” She eyed herself gloomily in the mirror. “In fact, it doesn’t fit at all.”

Risa pulled four tissues from the box on Alison’s nightstand and tucked them into the bust of the dress. “Better?” she asked.

“Oh, that’ll be great — I can hardly wait to hear what Tasha and Dawn have to say about me running around with my bra stuffed with Kleenex,” Alison said. Still, if she imagined the tissues were flesh instead of paper, the profile was definitely improved.

Echoes of the conversation she’d had that afternoon with Lynette Rudd and Marjorie Stern recurred to Risa. “Suppose it wasn’t Kleenex?” she said. “What if it was you?”

Alison pulled the tissues out of her bodice and sourly eyed the reflection of her flat chest. “Why do I think that’s not going to happen?” she asked. “I mean, given how long it’s been since I hit puberty, it’s pretty clear that I’m just not going to get anything else up here.”

Again Risa remembered the conversation earlier in the day. “Not naturally, perhaps,” she said carefully.

Alison turned to look at her mother. “What do you mean, ‘not naturally’?”

“Well, there are other ways of gaining what nature isn’t supplying,” Risa said, still not sure how Alison might react to what she was about to suggest. But her daughter beat her to it.

“You mean implants?” she asked, her eyes widening.

“Well, it’s just a thought,” Risa began. “But apparently a lot more people are doing it than I ever thought.”

“Including Tasha and Crystal,” Alison said. “And Dawn even had her lips done.”

“Really,” Risa said.

For a long moment mother and daughter simply looked at each other as if each were wondering which of them was going to be the first to step across the line that had suddenly appeared in front of them.

Finally, Risa spoke again. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to talk to Conrad about the possibilities. I mean, he’s the professional.”

Alison wasn’t quite sure she’d heard right. “You’d really let me get implants?”

“Well, we can certainly talk about it,” Risa said. “Everything is worth at least considering, isn’t it? Besides, talking about them doesn’t mean scheduling surgery.” She turned Alison around to face the mirror. “Of course, your father might not agree.”

“Dad doesn’t have to agree with everything,” Alison said, speaking to her mother’s reflection. “And he doesn’t even need to know that we’re talking about it, since talking doesn’t mean scheduling.”

“How about if I talk with Conrad later?” Risa asked. “Then he can take a look at you and give us his professional opinion.”

Alison felt a shiver go through her at the thought of Conrad Dunn seeing her topless, let alone touching her. “No,” she said. “I don’t want Conrad looking at my breasts! That’s just too weird.”

Risa rolled her eyes. “For heaven’s sake, Alison — he’s a doctor! A professional. And he’s the best there is. Who else do you think should do it?”

“I don’t know,” Alison said, rubbing the shiver from her arms. “It’s just too creepy.”

Risa sighed. “Well, at least give it some thought, all right?”

“I guess,” Alison replied, but Risa could hear the doubt in her voice. She slipped off the dress and held it up. “And I’m going to keep the dress. At least for now.”

“You should. You look fabulous in it.”

“Almost fabulous,” Alison amended archly. Then, as her mother left the room, she hung the dress in her closet, closed the door, and eyed herself in the mirror once again, twisting and turning to see her torso from every angle.

There was nothing wrong with her waist, or her buttocks, and when she rose to her toes, her legs took on a very nice shape.

She just didn’t have anything on top to balance out everything else.

She cupped her hands under her small breasts and lifted them up into mounds.

And that, she decided, is how they should look. Or even, perhaps, maybe a touch larger.

16

FOR THREE DAYS RISA HAD TRIED TO FIND THE RIGHT WAY TO BRING up the subject of Alison’s breasts with Conrad, and for three days she’d failed. She told herself that the time wasn’t quite right, or that there wasn’t enough time to discuss it, or used any one of a dozen other excuses not to have the conversation she knew she had to have. But when Alison came down to breakfast while she and Conrad were already at the table on the fourth morning, Risa knew she couldn’t put the talk off any longer.

Alison wore her usual jeans, and a tank top that clearly showed that her bra had increased by at least one cup size. She’d watched Alison’s bra look a little fuller each day, but today there was no mistaking it. Alison had bought a new bra and was filling it with something other than her breasts.

And she looked good. Even that minor change had turned her from a still flat-chested adolescent into the beginnings of what promised to soon become a curvaceous young woman.

“Lit test this morning,” Alison said after bolting down her orange juice and a fistful of multivitamins. “And I need to get to the library first, because I won’t have a chance later.” She grabbed a piece of dry toast from the buffet and quickly ate it, perching on the edge of her chair.

“Okay, honey,” Risa said. “Put a banana in your backpack for later.”

Alison grabbed one from the buffet. “Got it,” she said, then kissed her mother’s cheek, eager to get going.

“Have a nice day,” Conrad said.

“You, too,” she called over her shoulder as she went through the swinging door to the kitchen to meet Maria for her ride to school.

Conrad shook his head, smiling. “Now that was a whirlwind breakfast.”

“That was a typical teenager,” Risa corrected.

“She sure adds a lot of energy to the house.” He leaned back in his chair. “I like it.”

Risa eyed him carefully, trying to decide whether he meant it. “She can be a handful,” she said, offering him a chance to voice any doubts he might be harboring about having taken on a teenager at this stage of his life.

“I think I can handle it,” he said. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about a birthday present for her. Sixteen is a