In spite of the pleasant aroma of baking, the feeling of boring desperation overwhelmed Theresa the moment she stepped into the sprawling one level ranch style house her family occupied.

"How's it going?" her dad asked without looking up from the television. A newspaper was piled on the floor beside his recliner.

"Okay," she said.

"Hi, honey," her mom enthused from the kitchen. "I just finished these." She indicated a growing pile of chocolate chip cookies. "More in the oven," she added as she continued taking cookies from the baking sheets and putting them onto the platter. "Help yourself, dear. Did you get some supper? The cookies are for Tina's scout meeting. It's my turn to do refreshments, but I doubled the batch so there would be some for you and Dad."

"Yeah. Got a burger with Rick."

"He's such a nice boy."

"I guess. I don't know."

"Easy there, honey, it looks like you're putting on some weight. You might want to slow down on those cookies."

Her dad was always busy at the restaurant; when he was home, he never looked at her. Her mom was always making a real estate deal or baking cookies. Or drinking if dad was somewhere else.

"Mom," Theresa cried in desperation.

Why do I let her do this to me? Every time. Every fucking time. She sets me up and then springs a trap. 'Have a cookie,' 'You're too fat."

The familiar thoughts echoed through her mind as Theresa rushed to the bedroom she shared with her younger sister, Tina.

"That girl. I just don't know..." her mom said to her dad as he surfed the channels.

It's not like I can't see myself in all the mirrors. I know I have thunder thighs and a fat butt and my boobs are too big. I know I'm grotesque.

More familiar words echoed through her mind.

She wondered briefly where Tina was, until she remembered that her thirteen-year old sister was sleeping over with a friend.

I'll be so glad to be out of this fucking house. One more year. I can stand anything for a year. Not even a whole year. After finals, Greece! Freedom. At least Dad and I agree on one thing. He doesn't speak a word of Greek, always hated it because the old people spoke it. But he likes the idea of my learning it, going to Greece in the summers. He's willing to pay for it, and I'm not here to annoy Mom.

She took off her skirt and top and stood in front of the mirror in her bra and panties to let her eyes confirm what her mind had told her, that she was grotesque.

She threw a karate kick at the image in the mirror. In the confined space between the bunk beds and the desks, she began practicing katas, the choreographed sequences of karate moves that students learn. She was working on the last one she needed to perform for her black belt.

Her face contorted in concentration. She focused on the imaginary opponents that came at her from all sides in the sequenced moves of the stories handed down from teacher to student, ever since whoever first kicked the butts of this many bad guys swarming from all directions. She had to remind herself to relax into the situation. Let her body respond. Relax. Punch, punch, kick, turn, parry, kick.

A sheen of sweat glistened on her body when she finally stopped, the anger at her mom and disgust with her dad dissipated for the moment.

The night was hot and clammy. The air-conditioner had been out of commission since the end of the previous summer.

Theresa turned off the light and climbed into the top bunk to unfasten her bra and strip off her panties so she could lie naked on the sheet. As she was drifting into sleep, images invaded her mind.

Rick's finger was separating her labia.

She woke up with a shudder. Yuck. That was more annoying than anything else. I don't know why I let him do it.

Oh yes, I do know. It's because I'm hoping it will be something nice. Something like...

More images washed over her as she opened her legs to receive the stroking of her finger.

A night like this one. Hot and clammy. An overnight with her friend Angela. They were both nearly thirteen. Uncomfortable, they squirmed out of their nightgowns and looked at each other's bodies in the whiteness of the moonlight that flooded the room. They giggled as they touched their own budding breasts, then each other's and commented on the fuzz that they knew was becoming grown-up pubic hair. They hugged each other, an innocent and chaste hug.

The images accompanied her finger as it slowly circled her clitoris. As her clitoris became larger and harder, she stroked across its top. When it was as big and hard as a pencil eraser, she stroked the underside with the tip of her finger until she began to quiver and moan in accompaniment with the image of Angela's hug.

That hug lingered in the recesses of Theresa's mind and came forward when she played herself, times like tonight when she couldn't sleep, or mornings she woke up with her cunt dripping from a dream she couldn't remember. She usually had to be quiet so as to not alert her bratty sister.

Part of my grotesqueness. The thought came unbidden as she drifted to sleep. I masturbate all the time. Worse, I think about Angela when I masturbate. At school I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be naked with another girl. Or Ms. Johnson, the English teacher. That's so many kinds of sin ... I don't even know their names.

The next morning at the kitchen table Theresa found her dad behind a newspaper and her mom standing by the phone consulting her date book.

"And then I have a showing at one, and a meeting at two. That'll be finished by three-thirty. Are you listening, dear?"

"Yeah, you have some work today."

Theresa couldn't understand how these two could have ever been involved in sex. She looked in wonder at her mom, a trim woman in her late forties, and her dad, once athletic but now gone to fat, a few years older. She couldn't imagine either one of them naked. She found it difficult to imagine her dad with a penis or her mom opening her legs for anyone or anything.

How the hell did we get here? Her mind marveled as perhaps some miracle had happened, like something they heard about in their infrequent visits to the Eastern Orthodox Church. When she had to say what religion she was, she always said, "Catholic." It was easier that way. She didn't have to deal with, "What's Eastern Orthodox?"

"You need a car?" her dad asked as Theresa poured milk into her bowl of cereal. He lowered the paper to acknowledge her presence.

"No, thanks, Dad. I'll take the train."

"Take the car. You know I don't like you taking the train."

"Too much trouble to drive and park a car. Why don't you like me riding the train? Everybody else rides the train."

"Including muggers and rapists. It's too dangerous."

"Dad" she said in exasperation. "I am nearly a black belt in karate. I would love for some muggers or rapists to even try to touch me. I'm just waiting for a chance to do something more than perform katas and spar in tournaments. I would love to beat the living shit out of some low life son of a bitch that tried to lay a hand on me."

"Watch your language, young lady," her mom cautioned.

"Take the car," her dad said more insistently.

"No, thanks."

"Okay, have it your way," he said retreating to the sports section.

"Well, I'll be driving my car. I can give you a lift, honey. Are you going to your gym today?"

"It's a dojo, Mom."

"Yes, dear. If you're going to that gym you like so much, I can drop you off. Then you would only have to ride the train back."

The phone rang just as Theresa was about to explain she would be at the dojo all day to prepare for a tournament.

"It's that nice boy, honey, Rick?"

"Tell him I'm not here."

Her mother lowered the phone and looked at Theresa in mock dismay.

"You want me to lie to him?"

Hell, Mom, you lie about everything else. Why not?

"Tell him I can't come to the phone, then."

"She'll call right back, Rick," her mom said into the phone. She replaced the phone in the cradle and closed her date book.

"That's it, then, I'm ready. Call that boy, honey, then let's go."

"I'll call on the way from your cell phone, okay?"

"Sure, honey."

In the car, Theresa's mom handed her the cell phone. Theresa dialed some numbers and said, "Hello, Rick? Rick? You're breaking up. I'll have to call later." That satisfied her mom.

"Well, just don't forget. It's important to keep appointments, even ones to call people."

Theresa turned on the radio. Her mother turned the volume down and said over the thudding of the music, "You really do have to start watching your weight, dear. Things like that can get away from you before you know it. When you go to college..."

Theresa slumped in her seat and tried to hunker down to endure the onslaught she knew would last until they reached the Flying Yoni. There was no kata to combat this kind of assault, no combination of kicks, turns, or punches that would deflect it. She could only hope the armor she'd developed over the years would continue to be effective protection.