Having never felt so ashamed in his life, Jon froze. It was a strange state of mind he found himself in; he wanted to climb under a rock and die, but his mind kept fixing on the small details of the event. The bra straps, for example, which were previously so tight holding his former breasts hung loose on his skin, but the weight of the bra he could feel under his blouse. The cool air conditioned breeze that made it's way through the mall corridors, causing goose bumps to rise on his exposed arms. The look of horror on his father's face as he stood facing him.
Maybe it was a defense mechanism, he would think later, keeping him from feeling the full level of humiliation. Even thinking on it he couldn't remember what was said in those few moments before Karyn dragged him away, breaking the shock that held him in place. He guessed he didn't say anything. Karyn had told him on the ride home that she covered for him, but how she could possibly cover for that situation was beyond him.
Besides, another sharp detail burned into his brain was his father sitting on a mall bench as Jon and Karyn fled. His head was held by his large, callused hands, his shoulders moving up and down. Was he crying?
Thankfully Jon and Karyn had no more encounters on their way back to Jon's house. As soon as the car had stopped he bound his way up to his room, desperate to get to the stone before Karyn did. His shame still stung, but it was slowly being replaced. By rage.
