“Back fat.”

“What?”

“You’ve got back fat.”

“What do you mean, back fat?”

“Fat.”

“Where?”

“Idiot. On your back. You’ve got fat on your back.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do. Everyone in my family has it. All the girls. But we’ve got perky tits. Yours sag.”

Tara hauled her sweatshirt up and they might as well have been growing off her collarbone. And she was covered in back fat. Like a walrus on a rock. But I didn’t have back fat and I said, “I don’t have back fat.”

She smirked.

“Sure you do. And saggy tits.”

I was seventeen, and even if they didn’t grow out of my collarbone I know they weren’t sagging because I was only seventeen.

Maidenform Sweet Nothings, Denim Red Bandana Black Lace Padded Push Up, Warner’s Pure Electricity Underwire, Warner’s The Real McCoy Sissy Fiberfill Pointy, Bustier by Lady Marlene, Bestform Satin Underwire, Wonderbra Hello Boys. She reeled them off like we were at a square dance. Something else I grew up doing — not that Tara would have ever been caught dead square dancing. Her father was an accountant. He had a formal education, she liked to tell me, not like my parents, who had vocational training. He would never let her go to the prom with someone like Samuel, someone who was a black guy. She wanted to know if he smelled different than a white guy. I knew she had never even kissed a boy before and she knew I knew her secret.

So then Tara added: “And get the girdle pants. For the back fat.”

“Girdle pants?”

“Yeah. Slim and trim. Holds in back fat. No one will know unless they grab you really hard. My grandmother gave me her girdles. No one knows I wear them. Isn’t that great?”

I hated her guts, but I didn’t pout that time. She could keep waiting. This is the thing about a bully — you never know how long they’ll keep waiting and plotting, when they’ll reappear and trip you just when you think you’ve found your balance.

I grinned like I was in agreement about back fat and saggy tits and continued to smile and hate her guts all the way to the prom in the car with Samuel who asked what was bothering me. When I told him, he said I shouldn’t waste even a minute of my life with anyone who didn’t lift me up. Then he kissed me. He smelled like aftershave — vanilla and cedar. His skin was warm. I still think about that kiss. And my back fat.

It’s noon and Bob and I drink coffee and read the paper in a diner because there are no groceries on the boat. I’m taking the four o’clock bus back to the city to do some work because Bob has been beeped. He has to work the night shift tonight. He says he forgot, and I smile.

But then I’m not taking the afternoon bus because it turns out there is no bus. Bob got the time wrong. We find this out after standing at the bus stop for thirty minutes in the rain. I ignore him and look in the gutter while Bob says things like this happen, I have to be a good sport. A guy drives by, slowing down as he lowers his window and yells, “The last bus went at noon and the next one goes at seven a.m. tomorrow.” The rain hits my smiling face.