YouNeverKnow175
TMF Master
- Joined
- Sep 30, 2002
- Messages
- 810
- Points
- 18
“Oh my gosh, Mally! I’m so happy to see you! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Carrie exclaimed in the dining hall as she saw her good friend.
“Is everything okay?” Mallory asked.
“Well, yes and no! I totally forgot our senior project for art is due tomorrow morning. I’ve had some ideas but I haven’t done it yet, so it’s going to be a late night. I was wondering if you would help me??”
Mallory sighed. It was classic Carrie. Mallory knew well enough by now, after spending four years of boarding school with her, that Carrie was inevitably completely disorganized, last-minute, and dramatic.
“Ugh….Carrie! Do you have a plan for what you’re going to do?”
“Yes! Please please please - just meet me in the art studio after dinner? I promise it won’t take all night…..”
“Okay, okay….I’ll be there…..” Mallory said, far too caring and empathetic to turn her friend down.
“Thank you sooooo much!” Carrie said effusively, clearly relieved.
After dinner, Mallory strolled across the beautiful campus of their private, New England boarding school. She knew she would only be making that stroll for another few weeks, and in the late April fading sunlight, she recognized the sun setting on her own high school years. She felt mixed about that - she was eighteen and ready for new adventures, but the school had been what she’d known for quite some time, so the prospect of moving on was also scary.
She walked into the art studio, where she’d spent many a day and night during her four years. Mallory was bright and sweet teenager, but also very sensitive and broody. The studio had been a refuge for her, and much of the painting and drawing she did in there reflected her angst, her rebellion and her darkness. It was the place where she felt free to be herself, outside of the social expectations of a preppy boarding school full of wealthy kids.
Carrie was inside, setting up. She had an enormous white paper canvas sprawled out over the floor, and paints and paintbrushes everywhere. She sat on the ground, taping pieces of paper together to form the canvas that covered almost the entire surface area of the floor of the large room. Carrie was 5’3”, had blonde hair to her shoulders, brown eyes, and wore dark-rimmed glasses. She wore a flannel shirt over her white t-shirt, and light, paint-splattered blue jeans. On her size seven feet were high-top converse all-stars, which she wore over mismatched socks. Everything about her screamed “artsy.”
“I’m here…” Mallory said as she walked in. Mallory also wore light blue jeans over her long legs. She had on a cotton, white long sleeved t-shirt with grey stripes. Mallory was a beautiful girl - she stood 5’9”, with shoulder length, straight light-brown hair. She had brown eyes. She was thin, with an exquisite body. On her size eight-and-a-half feet she wore white canvas puma sneakers without socks.
“Mal, thank you so much!” Carrie cried out when she saw her friend at the door. “I owe you BIG TIME. ANYTHING you need. I can’t believe I forgot that this was due! It’s our biggest project of the year! I’m such an airhead. Okay, let me explain my artistic vision….”
Mallory marveled at the size of the canvas Carrie had pieced together on the floor.
“I think it’s going to be cool, full of metaphor,” Carrie began. She proceeded to explain a convoluted, highfalutin “vision” for her piece, which had to do with the journey from freshman to senior year, the steps taken to get from here to there, and the uniqueness of the journey. It would have been a decent metaphor if she weren’t taking herself and her art so painfully seriously.
“Okay, sounds great,” said Mallory. “So where do I come in?”
“Okay,” said Carrie. “I want a path of colored footprints leading from one side of the canvas to the other. So what we’re going to do is paint your feet and have you walk across. But the color will change every few steps, representing the changes we go through as we take our journey.”
Mallory swallowed hard and breathed out nervously. “Um, okay….paint my feet, like, how….?”
“With brushes, silly. I’ll take care of that, you can just relax and then focus on taking your steps through the canvas with thoroughness and elegance and purpose. That will be important, the viewers will feel that.”
“Oh….” Mallory said, growing even more apprehensive. “Well….what about just pouring paint into tin pans that I could step into? Seems like that would be faster…..”
“I know we’re pressed for time, but it wouldn’t work. That would come out really drippy, blot-y. I want the footprints to look really clear, precise, flawless. It’s a metaphor for how we walk through our lives!”
“Well…sometimes that journey is messy….”
“Look, I know, but the vision for the whole project rests on this idea of super-clear, very precise, deliberate footprints, okay? Just trust me. It won’t take as long as you think. We’ll be out of here by midnight, I promise.” She looked at her watch. “Maybe twelve-thirty.…”
Mallory’s mind was racing. There had to be some way out of this. She felt shy and embarrassed, but as she thought for a moment, she came to the conclusion that being upfront was the only way she was going to get through to Carrie.
“Well,” Mallory said tentatively, “it’s not so much that I’m concerned about the time…I just…I’m not sure I can handle having my feet painted with brushes….they’re…um, my feet are pretty ticklish….”
Carrie laughed. “Oh come on, you’ll be fine!! Let’s get going!” She walked over to the paints and took out a dark green. “We’re starting with dark green to represent being lost in the dark forest when we begin our journey.”
Mallory tried to assert herself again. “Um….really….I don’t know. How about we paint your feet? I’ll be able to do it well - you know me with a brush. I mean, you’re the artist anyway, right? So you should be represented here on the paper!”
“No, no, no - it won’t work!” Carrie exclaimed defiantly. “I can’t be walking through the piece because I need to be able to oversee the whole thing, to direct the artistic vision as we go. Otherwise I’m not the artist, I’m just the subject. I need to be outside of it, looking down, directing the whole thing!”
Mallory looked at her watch. It was only eight - there had to be other people who would be willing to do this instead. They'd just need to walk around campus and find them. “Maybe we can see if anyone else - “
Carrie cut her off. “No! We barely have enough time as it is! To walk back over to the dorms, try to find people, walk back here - we’d be waisting valuable time. Mally, it’s due in class at eight in the morning!”
It was true, and Mallory also knew that very few, if any, of their classmates would be willing to help Carrie. This was not the first time she’d demanded desparate, last-minute need for help, and most of their classmates were tired of her antics.
“Okay well….I’ll try, but….”
“Okay, sit down here and take off your shoes, and stretch your legs out all the way, facing me.”
Mallory kicked off her canvas sneakers, which she’d been wearing since early that morning. It had been a warm day, and her feet were pink, soft, and warm from having been in her shoes without socks for twelve hours. She wiggled her toes to feel the fullness of the cooler air on them. She sat down on the floor, and reluctantly placed her feet in front of Carrie, soles facing outward toward her friend.
Carrie picked up a medium-sized paintbrush, about an inch wide, and dipped it in the dark green paint. Then she placed the brush on Mallory’s right heel and stroked upward.
Mallory jerked her foot but then managed to keep it in place. She took a very deep breath and closed her eyes. She felt another cold, wet stroke of the brush slide upward. Again her foot flinched and she gasped quietly.
“See, it’s not so bad, silly…” Carrie said, swiping a third stroke upward. The strokes were only covering the lower heel and arch areas of Mallory’s foot, making them somewhat tolerable.
“Um….yes it is…we’ll see….” Mallory said, then bit her lip as Carrie’s next stroke made it up higher, toward the ball of her foot.
Carrie then began to focus her painting on the ball of Mallory’s foot and Mallory flexed her foot as tightly as she could without pulling away completely. She began to breathe heavily and scrunched her face into a tight wince. Then she burst into laughter.
“Come on, Mally, you have to take this seriously…” Carrie said, sounding genuinely disappointed.
“It TICKLES!!!” Mallory exclaimed defensively.
“Well, just suck it up and hold still, it won’t take long,” she said, continuing to paint the ball of Mallory’s foot. Mally’s foot twitched uncontrollably and she buried her face in her hands, beginning to laugh again.
“Okay, okay, kiddo. Almost there…” Carrie said in a patronizing tone. “Just gotta do the toes…” She picked up a smaller, more delicate brush and began to paint Mallory’s toes.
Mallory instinctively scrunched her toes up as tightly as she could and exploded into a heavy, almost hyena-like laughter.
“Don’t scrunch your toes, you’re going to mess me up!” Carrie cried out.
“I can’t help it! I told you! I’m not the right person for this!!”
“Well you’re here now, we have to just do it!” She placed the brush on Mallory’s toes again. Mallory’s toes were both unique and perfect. Her second toe was as long as her big toe and the others followed close behind. Her big toe was noticeably large, but in an attractive and pretty way.
Mallory shrieked and laughed even harder. “I can’t - I can’t do it - I can’t do the toessssshahahahhahahaaha!!”
“Okay, I’m going to hold them up so you don’t scrunch them. Jeez Mally! You’re making this so difficult!” She held Mallory’s toes up with one hand and continued painting with the other.
Not being able to protect herself made the sensation a hundred times more intense for Mallory. Her mouth opened wide as she bellowed with laughter again.
“Carrie I - HAHAHAHA - I can’t - HAHAHAHAHA - PLEASE LET GO!! HAHAHAHA I don’t think you underst- HAEEEEEEEEE ohmygosh - HAHAAEEEEEEE - I’m really, really ticklish - HAHAAAAA!! OHGOD, PLEASE STOP!!!!”
“There! Done! See, that wasn’t so bad. Okay, next foot.” She picked up the larger brush and began making long strokes all the way up Mallory’s left foot, from her heels to the base of her toes. Mallory writhed on the floor as she sat there and pulled her foot away fully when the brush reached the top.
“Mally! You can’t pull away!”
“Carrie! I can’t help it! It’s too ticklish!”
“Just don’t be such a flake! Just relax! Stay still!” She stroked again. Again Mallory jerked away.
“I can’t!” Mallory shrieked.
“Okay, listen. Let’s try this. Lie down on your stomach. I’m going to sit on your legs and paint your foot so you can’t move.”
“Ohhh no no no….” said Mallory, shaking her head.
“Mally! You’re being so difficult! You’re stressing me out! I need to be relaxed, in the flow with the vision of the project. Stop interfering, please! Just do this, it will go quick!”
Mallory couldn’t bear the thought of letting Carrie sit on her legs and paint her foot, but she felt trapped. The hour was growing late and her friend was indeed desperate to finish the project. Arguing with her was not working. Most people would be winding down, getting ready for bed by this point. She was Carrie’s only hope. But she decided she had to try to negotiate again. The experience of the first foot-painting - the first of what was planned to be many - was just way too ticklish.
“Carrie, look - can we please consider letting me dip my feet in paint instead of you painting them? It would be so much easier….on both of us….”
“You’re not hearing me!! It would look so sloppy. It’s not the look I’m going for. We need to do it with a brush. Refined, subtle, sophisticated!”
“Okay, okay, I get it. I know what we can do! I’ll just paint them myself!”
“Mallory! Are you kidding me? First of all, you won’t be able to do it nearly as refined and precise as I want it, trying to reach all the way down and paint them yourself. Secondly, I’m the artist! So I need to do the painting. If you paint them, it’s like you did the art yourself! It’s absurd, the thought!”
Mallory shook her head in frustration and turned over, lying down on her stomach. Carrie sat on both legs - she couldn’t risk being kicked by the right as she painted the left - and held the brush to Mallory’s soft sole. Just the feeling of the bristles touching her skin, before Carrie even made a stroke, combined with knowing she couldn’t even get away now, made Mallory dissolve into helpless giggles. The giggles turned into a scream when the strokes started, then became heavy, hysterical laughter.
“Carrie NOOOOO!!!!!!!” Mallory cried through her laughter. Her upper body flailed dramatically - it was all she could do to try to get away, or try to handle it - she wasn’t sure which. She twisted her torso and pounded her fists on the ground. When Carrie switched the the lower brush and began painting her toes, she became maniacal.
“CARRRIEHAHAHAHHAHAHAHOHMYGOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH - STOP STOP STOP STOP!! HAHAHEEEEOHHHOHHHHHHHHNOOOOO!!!! OH NO!!!!!!! HeeeeeeeheeeAAAHH!!! LET GO!!! LET ME G - HAAAAAAAA!!!!”
“Done!” Carrie exclaimed proudly. “Okay, so stand up, and take four very firm, deliberate steps across the paper from right where you’re standing.”
Mallory sat there, almost stunned. “I need to - just let me catch my breath….” Carrie rolled her eyes and waited. Finally, Mallory got up and did as she was told. Her footprints looked nearly as exquisite as her soles themselves.
“Okay, now I do have a pan for you to step in, with sudsy water and everything. You step in there, and then I’ll wash off your feet for you -“
“Um - no, no, really - I’ll do it myself.”
“It’ll take longer, Mal…”
“No it won’t! Because if you do it, I’ll be squirming and pulling away just like I was when you were painting my feet! Trust me!!”
“Okay, but hurry….”
Mallory washed her own feet but a thin layer of paint remained on her soles. “I can’t - I can’t quite get it all off….” she said. “Here,” said Carrie, handing her some type of metal sponge that looked like it was used to scrub heavy duty grease off pots and pans. “Use this.”
Mallory sat down, placed the scrubber on her own foot and began to move it, then jerked her own foot away from her hand and squealed. She tried again, and couldn’t even bring herself to scrub her foot. “Well….it’s not totally coming off….”
“We need it to….”
“No, come on - I’m sure it’s fine if it -“
“No! It will alter the purity of the colors I chose! Are you crazy? I chose these exact colors for a reason. We can’t have them mix. We need to get the old paint completely off. Here, let me -“ She reached over, grabbed the metal sponge and then grabbed Mallory’s foot. She held it tightly, knowing what her friend would try to do, and scrubbed fervently.
Mallory tried to fight for a moment, reaching for Carrie’s hands to try to pull her off, but simply lost her strength once the laughter overtook her. She fell backward and thrashed around wildly while Carrie scrubbed her foot with the sudsy sponge. Her laughter was hard and heavy and almost panicky, and she tried to get words out between breaths:
“Carrie seriousl -HEEEEEHAAAAAAAAHHHHHH - I never would have - HAHAHAHAH - you didn’t TELL ME HAHAHAAEEEE - ohgodthisisTORTURE!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAH this tickles SO MUCCHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”
After five minutes of intensive scrubbing, Carrie stopped, proud of the job she’d done to get Mallory’s feet squeaky clean and spotless. Mallory lay on the floor, panting, trying to recover. Lying there, she said, “Carrie, I never would have agreed to this if you’d told me in advance what we were going to be doing…”
“I didn’t know!” Carrie said defensively. “I was still formulating my vision!”
“Well, really….I just…..I don’t think I’m the right person for this…..I’m just really ticklish….I don’t think I can go through what we just did again and again….”
“Mally - you’re my only hope here - you can do it. I know it tickles but just grin and bear it, enjoy it! It’s fun, right?! It’ll go fast!”
“It’s not fun! It’s torture!”
“Just relax, take some deep breaths! You can do it!”
“I don’t think you’re ask ticklish as me…I don’t think you understand what it’s like! It’s agony! The sensation is like - it just - it drives me insane…”
“I mean, I’m ticklish - I know what it feels like to be tickled - but it’s kind of fun, you know. You laugh! It feels kind of good in a way!”
“Not to me….it makes me feel like I’m going to lose my mind…”
“Well, what do you do in other situations to get through it?”
“Other situations?”
“Yeah, like, I don’t know, if someone’s tickling you…”
“I scream, I laugh, I kick, I beg, I feel like I’m going to explode…and feel like I’m going to get violent…”
“Okay, bad question. How about a situation like this, where it’s not that someone is tickling you, but that - “
“You ARE tickling me!!!”
“No I’m not! I’m doing something that happens to tickle you. But I’m not trying to!! Big difference!!”
“Ah, okay. Right. I see. Well…yeah, let’s see….good point…what do I usually do….well, every time I go to the doctor, and she puts her hands all over my stomach, it tickles so much….I try to breathe…relax…”
“See! Exactly what I told you!” “But it doesn’t work! It still tickles like crazy!”
“Okay, but I bet you don’t kick and scream and beg to your doctor. Try to think of me a little bit more like that. Like a professional. It will be less distracting to me as I work, and more appropriate.”
“But you’re not my doctor, you’re my friend! And I do kick and scream!”
“You kick and scream at the doctor’s?”
“Carrie, I told you - I’m soooooo ticklish….it’s not a joke. It’s not funny. It’s like - I don’t think very many people are this ticklish….”
“Alright, enough talk, you’re going to psych yourself out. The journeyer moves into a new phase of their life, walking with a cool blue.” She dipped the brush in paint and ran it up Mallory’s right foot. Mallory began to giggle again.
Just then, the door opened. Mallory’s sister, Jocelyn, stood there, with a small video camera in her hand. “Oh my!” she exclaimed. “I just knew you were in here! I just had a feeling!” Jocelyn, emulating her older sister, had recently taken to the arts - particularly videography - and had begun carrying a camera around with her everywhere she went, trying to capture the beauty of the world.
“What are you doing here?” Mallory asked.
“I’m just walking around, filming - and I had a feeling you were in here! So I came to see!” Jocelyn and Mallory looked like they could have been twins, but Mallory was a few years older. “What’s going on in here?” she asked as she looked around.
Carrie explained her project. Then she explained the problem her subject was having with having her feet painted.
“Oh, yeah…” Jocelyn said knowingly. “Maybe not the best choice for a subject who needs to have her feet painted….”
“Jocelyn!” Mallory cried out hopefully. “Will you take over?? Please??”
“No!” Carrie said forcefully. “It needs to be the same feet all the way through. It completely defeats the purpose if it’s not.”
“Our feet look exactly alike!” Mallory pleaded. “No one will ever know. Really! It’s true! Jocelyn, come here, show her your feet!” Jocelyn walked over and kicked off her flats, revealing remarkably identical feet to Mallory’s. Carrie held Jocelyn’s feet in her hands, examining them, before letting go and saying, “No! They’re not the same! The feet need to be the same! But Jocelyn, you can help! You can film this project. We’ll add an interactive media component! Yes! It’ll be amazing!! Yes!!”
“Sure!” said Jocelyn, excited to be part of an artistic endeavor. “I’d be happy to!” “Okay, film me painting Mallory’s feet….” she picked up the brush and continued.
“Wait - haha!!!!! W- wait NO!! I don’t want - HAHAEEEEE” Mallory felt incredibly self-conscious as she giggled and squirmed, knowing it was being captured on film. She jerked her foot away after a few seconds, simply unable to tolerate the intensity of the tickling.
“Okay, roll over again, Mal - this isn’t working. You’ve got to keep still.”
“Carrie, I can’t - I just ca -“ but before she could finish, Carrie leaned forward, grabbed her friend and pulled her over onto her stomach herself, then sat on her legs again. Then she began painting.
Mallory shrieked, her eyes bulged out of her head in dismay, and she thrashed her upper body around on the floor. Jocelyn squealed with delight and zoomed in. “This is a very familiar scene to me, I have to say!” Jocelyn said.
“Familiar?” asked Carrie as she moved the brush closer to Mallory’s toes.
“Nononononoletmedothetoesmysellllff!!!!!!!!!” Mallory cried out through her giggles.
“Oh yes,” Jocelyn said, smiling at Mallory’s dramatic begging but barely paying attention to it. “She gets tickled all the time at home. I’m used to this! Did you tell her about your first pedicure, Mally?”
Through her squirms and giggles Mallory managed to say, “No!”
“It was hilarious,” Jocelyn told Carrie. “She was kicking water all over the place, laughing. Our mom warned her she was probably too ticklish for it, but she wanted to try anyway….”
“Well,” said Carrie. “That certainly doesn’t surprise me one bit. Now Mally, hold STILL! I need to do the toes, and I want to get them really precise. They were a little too smudgy last time.” She took the tiny brush and began very deliberately and carefully painting the bottoms of Mally’s toes. Mally thrashed even harder.
“JOCELYN GET HER TO STOOOOPPPPP!!!!!!!!!! SHE DOESN’T HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA UNDERSTAND!!!! SHE DOESN’T - HAAAAAAA - YOU KNOW HOWHAHAHAAA - TICKLISH - HAHAHA - MY - TOES- HAHAHAHAHHAA - ARRREEEHHHHHEEEEE! TELL HER!!!!! TELLLLLL HERRRR!!!!”
“Her toes are very ticklish, as you can see….” Jocelyn said dutifully, still filming.
For the next two hours, Mallory endured the re-painting and foot cleaning again and again for the sake of Carrie’s project, while Jocelyn filmed. Carrie became quite delighted by the filming and decided at the end, “This is so great! Tomorrow’s presentation can be totally multimedia! Mally’s ticklishness can be a metaphor for enduring hardships along the journey!! I’ll just have the video play the whole time as people explore the canvas. Oh my gosh, it’s too good! Too perfect”
“You’re going to sh - show it? N-nooooo!” Mallory protested.
“Mally, I have to. This is my project and I have to!”
“But I -“
“Mally thank you SO MUCH for helping me. I owe you so big. I appreciate it so much. I’ll see you in class!” she smiled and darted out the door.
The next morning, Carrie set up and showed the video as she began her presentation, explaining the metaphors of the journey and the hardship. Mallory sat in class with her head lowered, beet red.
“This is quite brilliant!” said the teacher, Ms. Thompson.
Mallory couldn’t believe it. She was buying into Carrie’s pretentious bullshit?? Really? Was this really possible? And all the while it was happening while the whole class was watching a video of her being tickled mercilessly.
Mallory tried not to make eye contact with anyone the whole time. She was way too embarrassed. But she heard some whispers from some of the girls, “Ohmygod I’d be way too ticklish” and “Mally is soooo ticklish” and “Wow Carrie was so mean to put her through that!” She also noticed a few of the girls squirming uncomfortably in their seats as they watched, and a few of the guys inconspicuously touching themselves as they watched, looking around every few moments to see if anyone was noticing.
After the presentation, Mrs. Thompson said. “That was so wonderful, Carrie. Now I’m curious to hear from Mallory! What was it like for you to be part of this piece?”
Mallory blushed again and stuttered. “Um, uh….well….I mean….I don’t know….it was……kind of……um….kind of intense….”
“Intense?” Mrs. Thompson asked naively. “How so?”
“Well, I mean…..” Mallory couldn’t bring herself to say the word in front of all her classmates. “I’m just…..um….it just……well….I mean….you saw the video….”
“But the video doesn’t show your inner experience, Mallory,” said Mrs. Thompson. “I’m asking about your inner experience of being a part of such a brilliant piece of art.”
Mallory couldn’t believe her ears. “It was quite an experience. I really didn’t even know what I was getting myself into. But I…..it was something I’ll never forget.”
“Good, thank you,” said Mrs. Thompson.
What Mallory hadn’t realized was that with a month of school still remaining, her classmates now knew her biggest secret, which she’d desperately tried to keep from being known throughout all of high school. Shy, broody, artsy, mysterious little Mallory was about to make a lot of new friends….
“Is everything okay?” Mallory asked.
“Well, yes and no! I totally forgot our senior project for art is due tomorrow morning. I’ve had some ideas but I haven’t done it yet, so it’s going to be a late night. I was wondering if you would help me??”
Mallory sighed. It was classic Carrie. Mallory knew well enough by now, after spending four years of boarding school with her, that Carrie was inevitably completely disorganized, last-minute, and dramatic.
“Ugh….Carrie! Do you have a plan for what you’re going to do?”
“Yes! Please please please - just meet me in the art studio after dinner? I promise it won’t take all night…..”
“Okay, okay….I’ll be there…..” Mallory said, far too caring and empathetic to turn her friend down.
“Thank you sooooo much!” Carrie said effusively, clearly relieved.
After dinner, Mallory strolled across the beautiful campus of their private, New England boarding school. She knew she would only be making that stroll for another few weeks, and in the late April fading sunlight, she recognized the sun setting on her own high school years. She felt mixed about that - she was eighteen and ready for new adventures, but the school had been what she’d known for quite some time, so the prospect of moving on was also scary.
She walked into the art studio, where she’d spent many a day and night during her four years. Mallory was bright and sweet teenager, but also very sensitive and broody. The studio had been a refuge for her, and much of the painting and drawing she did in there reflected her angst, her rebellion and her darkness. It was the place where she felt free to be herself, outside of the social expectations of a preppy boarding school full of wealthy kids.
Carrie was inside, setting up. She had an enormous white paper canvas sprawled out over the floor, and paints and paintbrushes everywhere. She sat on the ground, taping pieces of paper together to form the canvas that covered almost the entire surface area of the floor of the large room. Carrie was 5’3”, had blonde hair to her shoulders, brown eyes, and wore dark-rimmed glasses. She wore a flannel shirt over her white t-shirt, and light, paint-splattered blue jeans. On her size seven feet were high-top converse all-stars, which she wore over mismatched socks. Everything about her screamed “artsy.”
“I’m here…” Mallory said as she walked in. Mallory also wore light blue jeans over her long legs. She had on a cotton, white long sleeved t-shirt with grey stripes. Mallory was a beautiful girl - she stood 5’9”, with shoulder length, straight light-brown hair. She had brown eyes. She was thin, with an exquisite body. On her size eight-and-a-half feet she wore white canvas puma sneakers without socks.
“Mal, thank you so much!” Carrie cried out when she saw her friend at the door. “I owe you BIG TIME. ANYTHING you need. I can’t believe I forgot that this was due! It’s our biggest project of the year! I’m such an airhead. Okay, let me explain my artistic vision….”
Mallory marveled at the size of the canvas Carrie had pieced together on the floor.
“I think it’s going to be cool, full of metaphor,” Carrie began. She proceeded to explain a convoluted, highfalutin “vision” for her piece, which had to do with the journey from freshman to senior year, the steps taken to get from here to there, and the uniqueness of the journey. It would have been a decent metaphor if she weren’t taking herself and her art so painfully seriously.
“Okay, sounds great,” said Mallory. “So where do I come in?”
“Okay,” said Carrie. “I want a path of colored footprints leading from one side of the canvas to the other. So what we’re going to do is paint your feet and have you walk across. But the color will change every few steps, representing the changes we go through as we take our journey.”
Mallory swallowed hard and breathed out nervously. “Um, okay….paint my feet, like, how….?”
“With brushes, silly. I’ll take care of that, you can just relax and then focus on taking your steps through the canvas with thoroughness and elegance and purpose. That will be important, the viewers will feel that.”
“Oh….” Mallory said, growing even more apprehensive. “Well….what about just pouring paint into tin pans that I could step into? Seems like that would be faster…..”
“I know we’re pressed for time, but it wouldn’t work. That would come out really drippy, blot-y. I want the footprints to look really clear, precise, flawless. It’s a metaphor for how we walk through our lives!”
“Well…sometimes that journey is messy….”
“Look, I know, but the vision for the whole project rests on this idea of super-clear, very precise, deliberate footprints, okay? Just trust me. It won’t take as long as you think. We’ll be out of here by midnight, I promise.” She looked at her watch. “Maybe twelve-thirty.…”
Mallory’s mind was racing. There had to be some way out of this. She felt shy and embarrassed, but as she thought for a moment, she came to the conclusion that being upfront was the only way she was going to get through to Carrie.
“Well,” Mallory said tentatively, “it’s not so much that I’m concerned about the time…I just…I’m not sure I can handle having my feet painted with brushes….they’re…um, my feet are pretty ticklish….”
Carrie laughed. “Oh come on, you’ll be fine!! Let’s get going!” She walked over to the paints and took out a dark green. “We’re starting with dark green to represent being lost in the dark forest when we begin our journey.”
Mallory tried to assert herself again. “Um….really….I don’t know. How about we paint your feet? I’ll be able to do it well - you know me with a brush. I mean, you’re the artist anyway, right? So you should be represented here on the paper!”
“No, no, no - it won’t work!” Carrie exclaimed defiantly. “I can’t be walking through the piece because I need to be able to oversee the whole thing, to direct the artistic vision as we go. Otherwise I’m not the artist, I’m just the subject. I need to be outside of it, looking down, directing the whole thing!”
Mallory looked at her watch. It was only eight - there had to be other people who would be willing to do this instead. They'd just need to walk around campus and find them. “Maybe we can see if anyone else - “
Carrie cut her off. “No! We barely have enough time as it is! To walk back over to the dorms, try to find people, walk back here - we’d be waisting valuable time. Mally, it’s due in class at eight in the morning!”
It was true, and Mallory also knew that very few, if any, of their classmates would be willing to help Carrie. This was not the first time she’d demanded desparate, last-minute need for help, and most of their classmates were tired of her antics.
“Okay well….I’ll try, but….”
“Okay, sit down here and take off your shoes, and stretch your legs out all the way, facing me.”
Mallory kicked off her canvas sneakers, which she’d been wearing since early that morning. It had been a warm day, and her feet were pink, soft, and warm from having been in her shoes without socks for twelve hours. She wiggled her toes to feel the fullness of the cooler air on them. She sat down on the floor, and reluctantly placed her feet in front of Carrie, soles facing outward toward her friend.
Carrie picked up a medium-sized paintbrush, about an inch wide, and dipped it in the dark green paint. Then she placed the brush on Mallory’s right heel and stroked upward.
Mallory jerked her foot but then managed to keep it in place. She took a very deep breath and closed her eyes. She felt another cold, wet stroke of the brush slide upward. Again her foot flinched and she gasped quietly.
“See, it’s not so bad, silly…” Carrie said, swiping a third stroke upward. The strokes were only covering the lower heel and arch areas of Mallory’s foot, making them somewhat tolerable.
“Um….yes it is…we’ll see….” Mallory said, then bit her lip as Carrie’s next stroke made it up higher, toward the ball of her foot.
Carrie then began to focus her painting on the ball of Mallory’s foot and Mallory flexed her foot as tightly as she could without pulling away completely. She began to breathe heavily and scrunched her face into a tight wince. Then she burst into laughter.
“Come on, Mally, you have to take this seriously…” Carrie said, sounding genuinely disappointed.
“It TICKLES!!!” Mallory exclaimed defensively.
“Well, just suck it up and hold still, it won’t take long,” she said, continuing to paint the ball of Mallory’s foot. Mally’s foot twitched uncontrollably and she buried her face in her hands, beginning to laugh again.
“Okay, okay, kiddo. Almost there…” Carrie said in a patronizing tone. “Just gotta do the toes…” She picked up a smaller, more delicate brush and began to paint Mallory’s toes.
Mallory instinctively scrunched her toes up as tightly as she could and exploded into a heavy, almost hyena-like laughter.
“Don’t scrunch your toes, you’re going to mess me up!” Carrie cried out.
“I can’t help it! I told you! I’m not the right person for this!!”
“Well you’re here now, we have to just do it!” She placed the brush on Mallory’s toes again. Mallory’s toes were both unique and perfect. Her second toe was as long as her big toe and the others followed close behind. Her big toe was noticeably large, but in an attractive and pretty way.
Mallory shrieked and laughed even harder. “I can’t - I can’t do it - I can’t do the toessssshahahahhahahaaha!!”
“Okay, I’m going to hold them up so you don’t scrunch them. Jeez Mally! You’re making this so difficult!” She held Mallory’s toes up with one hand and continued painting with the other.
Not being able to protect herself made the sensation a hundred times more intense for Mallory. Her mouth opened wide as she bellowed with laughter again.
“Carrie I - HAHAHAHA - I can’t - HAHAHAHAHA - PLEASE LET GO!! HAHAHAHA I don’t think you underst- HAEEEEEEEEE ohmygosh - HAHAAEEEEEEE - I’m really, really ticklish - HAHAAAAA!! OHGOD, PLEASE STOP!!!!”
“There! Done! See, that wasn’t so bad. Okay, next foot.” She picked up the larger brush and began making long strokes all the way up Mallory’s left foot, from her heels to the base of her toes. Mallory writhed on the floor as she sat there and pulled her foot away fully when the brush reached the top.
“Mally! You can’t pull away!”
“Carrie! I can’t help it! It’s too ticklish!”
“Just don’t be such a flake! Just relax! Stay still!” She stroked again. Again Mallory jerked away.
“I can’t!” Mallory shrieked.
“Okay, listen. Let’s try this. Lie down on your stomach. I’m going to sit on your legs and paint your foot so you can’t move.”
“Ohhh no no no….” said Mallory, shaking her head.
“Mally! You’re being so difficult! You’re stressing me out! I need to be relaxed, in the flow with the vision of the project. Stop interfering, please! Just do this, it will go quick!”
Mallory couldn’t bear the thought of letting Carrie sit on her legs and paint her foot, but she felt trapped. The hour was growing late and her friend was indeed desperate to finish the project. Arguing with her was not working. Most people would be winding down, getting ready for bed by this point. She was Carrie’s only hope. But she decided she had to try to negotiate again. The experience of the first foot-painting - the first of what was planned to be many - was just way too ticklish.
“Carrie, look - can we please consider letting me dip my feet in paint instead of you painting them? It would be so much easier….on both of us….”
“You’re not hearing me!! It would look so sloppy. It’s not the look I’m going for. We need to do it with a brush. Refined, subtle, sophisticated!”
“Okay, okay, I get it. I know what we can do! I’ll just paint them myself!”
“Mallory! Are you kidding me? First of all, you won’t be able to do it nearly as refined and precise as I want it, trying to reach all the way down and paint them yourself. Secondly, I’m the artist! So I need to do the painting. If you paint them, it’s like you did the art yourself! It’s absurd, the thought!”
Mallory shook her head in frustration and turned over, lying down on her stomach. Carrie sat on both legs - she couldn’t risk being kicked by the right as she painted the left - and held the brush to Mallory’s soft sole. Just the feeling of the bristles touching her skin, before Carrie even made a stroke, combined with knowing she couldn’t even get away now, made Mallory dissolve into helpless giggles. The giggles turned into a scream when the strokes started, then became heavy, hysterical laughter.
“Carrie NOOOOO!!!!!!!” Mallory cried through her laughter. Her upper body flailed dramatically - it was all she could do to try to get away, or try to handle it - she wasn’t sure which. She twisted her torso and pounded her fists on the ground. When Carrie switched the the lower brush and began painting her toes, she became maniacal.
“CARRRIEHAHAHAHHAHAHAHOHMYGOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH - STOP STOP STOP STOP!! HAHAHEEEEOHHHOHHHHHHHHNOOOOO!!!! OH NO!!!!!!! HeeeeeeeheeeAAAHH!!! LET GO!!! LET ME G - HAAAAAAAA!!!!”
“Done!” Carrie exclaimed proudly. “Okay, so stand up, and take four very firm, deliberate steps across the paper from right where you’re standing.”
Mallory sat there, almost stunned. “I need to - just let me catch my breath….” Carrie rolled her eyes and waited. Finally, Mallory got up and did as she was told. Her footprints looked nearly as exquisite as her soles themselves.
“Okay, now I do have a pan for you to step in, with sudsy water and everything. You step in there, and then I’ll wash off your feet for you -“
“Um - no, no, really - I’ll do it myself.”
“It’ll take longer, Mal…”
“No it won’t! Because if you do it, I’ll be squirming and pulling away just like I was when you were painting my feet! Trust me!!”
“Okay, but hurry….”
Mallory washed her own feet but a thin layer of paint remained on her soles. “I can’t - I can’t quite get it all off….” she said. “Here,” said Carrie, handing her some type of metal sponge that looked like it was used to scrub heavy duty grease off pots and pans. “Use this.”
Mallory sat down, placed the scrubber on her own foot and began to move it, then jerked her own foot away from her hand and squealed. She tried again, and couldn’t even bring herself to scrub her foot. “Well….it’s not totally coming off….”
“We need it to….”
“No, come on - I’m sure it’s fine if it -“
“No! It will alter the purity of the colors I chose! Are you crazy? I chose these exact colors for a reason. We can’t have them mix. We need to get the old paint completely off. Here, let me -“ She reached over, grabbed the metal sponge and then grabbed Mallory’s foot. She held it tightly, knowing what her friend would try to do, and scrubbed fervently.
Mallory tried to fight for a moment, reaching for Carrie’s hands to try to pull her off, but simply lost her strength once the laughter overtook her. She fell backward and thrashed around wildly while Carrie scrubbed her foot with the sudsy sponge. Her laughter was hard and heavy and almost panicky, and she tried to get words out between breaths:
“Carrie seriousl -HEEEEEHAAAAAAAAHHHHHH - I never would have - HAHAHAHAH - you didn’t TELL ME HAHAHAAEEEE - ohgodthisisTORTURE!!!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAH this tickles SO MUCCHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”
After five minutes of intensive scrubbing, Carrie stopped, proud of the job she’d done to get Mallory’s feet squeaky clean and spotless. Mallory lay on the floor, panting, trying to recover. Lying there, she said, “Carrie, I never would have agreed to this if you’d told me in advance what we were going to be doing…”
“I didn’t know!” Carrie said defensively. “I was still formulating my vision!”
“Well, really….I just…..I don’t think I’m the right person for this…..I’m just really ticklish….I don’t think I can go through what we just did again and again….”
“Mally - you’re my only hope here - you can do it. I know it tickles but just grin and bear it, enjoy it! It’s fun, right?! It’ll go fast!”
“It’s not fun! It’s torture!”
“Just relax, take some deep breaths! You can do it!”
“I don’t think you’re ask ticklish as me…I don’t think you understand what it’s like! It’s agony! The sensation is like - it just - it drives me insane…”
“I mean, I’m ticklish - I know what it feels like to be tickled - but it’s kind of fun, you know. You laugh! It feels kind of good in a way!”
“Not to me….it makes me feel like I’m going to lose my mind…”
“Well, what do you do in other situations to get through it?”
“Other situations?”
“Yeah, like, I don’t know, if someone’s tickling you…”
“I scream, I laugh, I kick, I beg, I feel like I’m going to explode…and feel like I’m going to get violent…”
“Okay, bad question. How about a situation like this, where it’s not that someone is tickling you, but that - “
“You ARE tickling me!!!”
“No I’m not! I’m doing something that happens to tickle you. But I’m not trying to!! Big difference!!”
“Ah, okay. Right. I see. Well…yeah, let’s see….good point…what do I usually do….well, every time I go to the doctor, and she puts her hands all over my stomach, it tickles so much….I try to breathe…relax…”
“See! Exactly what I told you!” “But it doesn’t work! It still tickles like crazy!”
“Okay, but I bet you don’t kick and scream and beg to your doctor. Try to think of me a little bit more like that. Like a professional. It will be less distracting to me as I work, and more appropriate.”
“But you’re not my doctor, you’re my friend! And I do kick and scream!”
“You kick and scream at the doctor’s?”
“Carrie, I told you - I’m soooooo ticklish….it’s not a joke. It’s not funny. It’s like - I don’t think very many people are this ticklish….”
“Alright, enough talk, you’re going to psych yourself out. The journeyer moves into a new phase of their life, walking with a cool blue.” She dipped the brush in paint and ran it up Mallory’s right foot. Mallory began to giggle again.
Just then, the door opened. Mallory’s sister, Jocelyn, stood there, with a small video camera in her hand. “Oh my!” she exclaimed. “I just knew you were in here! I just had a feeling!” Jocelyn, emulating her older sister, had recently taken to the arts - particularly videography - and had begun carrying a camera around with her everywhere she went, trying to capture the beauty of the world.
“What are you doing here?” Mallory asked.
“I’m just walking around, filming - and I had a feeling you were in here! So I came to see!” Jocelyn and Mallory looked like they could have been twins, but Mallory was a few years older. “What’s going on in here?” she asked as she looked around.
Carrie explained her project. Then she explained the problem her subject was having with having her feet painted.
“Oh, yeah…” Jocelyn said knowingly. “Maybe not the best choice for a subject who needs to have her feet painted….”
“Jocelyn!” Mallory cried out hopefully. “Will you take over?? Please??”
“No!” Carrie said forcefully. “It needs to be the same feet all the way through. It completely defeats the purpose if it’s not.”
“Our feet look exactly alike!” Mallory pleaded. “No one will ever know. Really! It’s true! Jocelyn, come here, show her your feet!” Jocelyn walked over and kicked off her flats, revealing remarkably identical feet to Mallory’s. Carrie held Jocelyn’s feet in her hands, examining them, before letting go and saying, “No! They’re not the same! The feet need to be the same! But Jocelyn, you can help! You can film this project. We’ll add an interactive media component! Yes! It’ll be amazing!! Yes!!”
“Sure!” said Jocelyn, excited to be part of an artistic endeavor. “I’d be happy to!” “Okay, film me painting Mallory’s feet….” she picked up the brush and continued.
“Wait - haha!!!!! W- wait NO!! I don’t want - HAHAEEEEE” Mallory felt incredibly self-conscious as she giggled and squirmed, knowing it was being captured on film. She jerked her foot away after a few seconds, simply unable to tolerate the intensity of the tickling.
“Okay, roll over again, Mal - this isn’t working. You’ve got to keep still.”
“Carrie, I can’t - I just ca -“ but before she could finish, Carrie leaned forward, grabbed her friend and pulled her over onto her stomach herself, then sat on her legs again. Then she began painting.
Mallory shrieked, her eyes bulged out of her head in dismay, and she thrashed her upper body around on the floor. Jocelyn squealed with delight and zoomed in. “This is a very familiar scene to me, I have to say!” Jocelyn said.
“Familiar?” asked Carrie as she moved the brush closer to Mallory’s toes.
“Nononononoletmedothetoesmysellllff!!!!!!!!!” Mallory cried out through her giggles.
“Oh yes,” Jocelyn said, smiling at Mallory’s dramatic begging but barely paying attention to it. “She gets tickled all the time at home. I’m used to this! Did you tell her about your first pedicure, Mally?”
Through her squirms and giggles Mallory managed to say, “No!”
“It was hilarious,” Jocelyn told Carrie. “She was kicking water all over the place, laughing. Our mom warned her she was probably too ticklish for it, but she wanted to try anyway….”
“Well,” said Carrie. “That certainly doesn’t surprise me one bit. Now Mally, hold STILL! I need to do the toes, and I want to get them really precise. They were a little too smudgy last time.” She took the tiny brush and began very deliberately and carefully painting the bottoms of Mally’s toes. Mally thrashed even harder.
“JOCELYN GET HER TO STOOOOPPPPP!!!!!!!!!! SHE DOESN’T HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA UNDERSTAND!!!! SHE DOESN’T - HAAAAAAA - YOU KNOW HOWHAHAHAAA - TICKLISH - HAHAHA - MY - TOES- HAHAHAHAHHAA - ARRREEEHHHHHEEEEE! TELL HER!!!!! TELLLLLL HERRRR!!!!”
“Her toes are very ticklish, as you can see….” Jocelyn said dutifully, still filming.
For the next two hours, Mallory endured the re-painting and foot cleaning again and again for the sake of Carrie’s project, while Jocelyn filmed. Carrie became quite delighted by the filming and decided at the end, “This is so great! Tomorrow’s presentation can be totally multimedia! Mally’s ticklishness can be a metaphor for enduring hardships along the journey!! I’ll just have the video play the whole time as people explore the canvas. Oh my gosh, it’s too good! Too perfect”
“You’re going to sh - show it? N-nooooo!” Mallory protested.
“Mally, I have to. This is my project and I have to!”
“But I -“
“Mally thank you SO MUCH for helping me. I owe you so big. I appreciate it so much. I’ll see you in class!” she smiled and darted out the door.
The next morning, Carrie set up and showed the video as she began her presentation, explaining the metaphors of the journey and the hardship. Mallory sat in class with her head lowered, beet red.
“This is quite brilliant!” said the teacher, Ms. Thompson.
Mallory couldn’t believe it. She was buying into Carrie’s pretentious bullshit?? Really? Was this really possible? And all the while it was happening while the whole class was watching a video of her being tickled mercilessly.
Mallory tried not to make eye contact with anyone the whole time. She was way too embarrassed. But she heard some whispers from some of the girls, “Ohmygod I’d be way too ticklish” and “Mally is soooo ticklish” and “Wow Carrie was so mean to put her through that!” She also noticed a few of the girls squirming uncomfortably in their seats as they watched, and a few of the guys inconspicuously touching themselves as they watched, looking around every few moments to see if anyone was noticing.
After the presentation, Mrs. Thompson said. “That was so wonderful, Carrie. Now I’m curious to hear from Mallory! What was it like for you to be part of this piece?”
Mallory blushed again and stuttered. “Um, uh….well….I mean….I don’t know….it was……kind of……um….kind of intense….”
“Intense?” Mrs. Thompson asked naively. “How so?”
“Well, I mean…..” Mallory couldn’t bring herself to say the word in front of all her classmates. “I’m just…..um….it just……well….I mean….you saw the video….”
“But the video doesn’t show your inner experience, Mallory,” said Mrs. Thompson. “I’m asking about your inner experience of being a part of such a brilliant piece of art.”
Mallory couldn’t believe her ears. “It was quite an experience. I really didn’t even know what I was getting myself into. But I…..it was something I’ll never forget.”
“Good, thank you,” said Mrs. Thompson.
What Mallory hadn’t realized was that with a month of school still remaining, her classmates now knew her biggest secret, which she’d desperately tried to keep from being known throughout all of high school. Shy, broody, artsy, mysterious little Mallory was about to make a lot of new friends….
And of course there must be a sequel. 
