18--CONTEMPORARY TV FICTION

No one answered his whimpering request. Unable to wait, Wayne bunched his skirt to his knees, girlishly scampering to

his room.

"ENOUGH!" I wailed. "Wayne's no model. Let him

QUIT!"

"You're SO wrong," Rita Delatore calmly countered. "He's PERFECT! Be patient, pretty Wayne will GLOW with success!"

"In a PIG'S EYE!" I spat. Stomping up the stairs, I hurried to comfort Wayne.

"Hey pal," I whispered, softly rapping on his locked bedroom door. "Come on, open up. It's me..."

The latch clicked as the door opened to a darkened room. In an upbeat tone, I asked, "Where are you, pal? I can't see you."

"Here," he sniffled from a shadowy corner. "I'm such a fool!"

Wayne's fluffy curls were now a disheveled rat's nest. His mascara and lipstick were smeared blotches across over his face.

"They've gone TOO FAR. You've got to QUIT!”

"I don't know," he whined. "Rita's got my contract and quitting would ruin Mom..."

"Forget it, then. It's your life!"

"Don't I say that, Ron. I won't make it through the year without knowing you're on my side!"

Wayne's whimpering plea tugged at my heart strings. "Oh, okay, but you know how I HATE this. So, just promise me one thing."

"SURE!"

"Never, I mean NEVER forget who you are!"

Smiling with relief, Wayne earnestly nodded. Yet, even so, I nervously wondered with all that pressure could he survive?

Sunday afternoon with Wayne left a heavy load on my mind. At school the next day, I drifted about with my head in the clouds.

While heading for lunch, I ran into Wayne. He looked normal again, right down to his manly styled ponytail! "Hey, pal!" I cheerfully called. "Want to sit together?" "Sure," he shrugged gloomily. "Why not."

BOSOM BUDDY -19

Leaving the serving line, my tray overflowed with food. But all Wayne took was a banana and skimmed milk.

"Starving yourself?" I joshed. "Nothing's THAT bad!" "I'm not hungry," he shied away. But after a pause, he confessed, "That's a lie. This damn diet's driving me CRAZY!"

"You're skin and bones, man. You can't lose anymore weight!"

"I WISH! Rita says I must fit a size six. . .to emulate the WAIF look...Whatever that means!"

I smiled, offering him half my burger and fries. "I won't tell a soul."

"Shhh! Rachel's around!" he frantically whispered. "If I'm not down a couple pounds by Friday, she'll tell Rita and I'll have hell to pay! Besides," he softly muttered, "my stomach's been really queazy and my appetite's way down. I think it's those vitamins."

Not another word passed between during lunch. It was pitiful watching Wayne nibble on his banana. I had to help him

someway.

Our next class was in fifteen minutes. Leaving the cafeteria, we headed to our lockers to grab our books.

Thinking of a way to ease the mounting tension between us. I joked, "Bet you're happy to wear flannel shirts and jeans again!"

"I guess, but..." he hedged, "but I still have to keep my legs and armpits are shaved and..."

"And what?" I asked. Cringing with fear, Wayne had a look like he'd said TOO much. "Tell me."

Scanning the hall, he pulled me into the boy's washroom. "Why you checking the stalls?" I wondered aloud. "No one's

here.

"Just need to be sure. Lean against the outside door. There's something I want to show you."

It was a strange request, but I did it anyway. I figured, things couldn't get much weirder than they already were.

"Okay!" I barked, crossing my arms. "What's the BIG secret?"

Unbuckling his belt, he let his jeans drop to the floor. "Aren't these CUTE?" he sarcastically spat, "Another new addition!"

"NO WAY!" I panted at his sleek beige tinted legs. "NYLONS!"