Blackout (Darkness Trilogy) by Madeleine Henry Page A

see black charcoal shaded over her eyelids.
    “Almost perfect,” she says clinically. “ Your shoulders are broad and your chest is tight. Great arms. Girls will like the way your muscles bulge, so make sure you show that off. And your abs are very well-defined. The line of hair running down the middle of them is rather attractive…”
    “Are we done here?” I groan.
    “Yes, you can get dressed again,” she say. “You made that part easy. My turn.”
    I bend over to pick up my clothes. By the time I stand up, Elektra has taken hers off. Naked, completely naked. She dangles the jacket from an index finger over her shoulder. Her eyes wait expectantly.
    “Well?” she asks.
    “Should we get Tinder?” I stall.
    “No, you’ll do,” she says. “So, how do I look?”
    I don’t know what to say—or where to direct my eyes. In my world, there’s only Star and everyone else. I stand uncomfortably and scratch my head. Think, Phoenix. Say something. I look cautiously at her small ankles and thin calves, now her thighs. Muscle pops gently over her knees, and her milky skin looks smooth, but I can’t look at Elektra any more like this. It feels like a betrayal to Star. I shift my gaze to a random point behind her and stare, trying to think of something general to say.
    “You have nice… legs,” I manage. “Those girls in Zig-Zag wore a lot of short dresses. You’d look good in one of those.”
    “What do you think of my chest?” she asks.
    Jesus, I don’t know. I hadn’t really looked.
    “ Good,” I muster.
    “Yeah, I like them too,” she says, pushing her chest forward and looking down at herself. She swings the leather jacket back on and zips it quickly. “Tinder!”
    Tinder slinks inside the bathroom. In between Elektra and me, he rocks back and forth from his toes to his heels. Spotlight is rolled into a nervous coil, clutched by both of his hands behind his back. He doesn’t meet my eyes. I can sense it’s because he’s embarrassed. A black string of rope runs through the belt loops of his khaki cargo pants, holding them up at his hips. I glimpse his sunken stomach in the bare inch above them and wince.
    “Your turn, Tinder,” Elektra says.
    Tinder clears his throat painfully.
    “Elektra,” I say softly. “Does he have to?”
    “It’s fine,” Tinder says. “I’ve been naked before.”
    Tinder takes off his shirt, and all I can see are his ribs. I should leave, but the state of his body is distracting. I could count his bones if I wanted to. His thin arms hang at his sides like little fire pokers. Not a single hair grows on his chest, and only wisps peek out from his armpits. I wonder if he’s ever had to shave his chin, but I doubt it. This whole exhibition of Tinder is making me uncomfortable.
    “Too skinny,” Elektra says. “I’ll have to dress you in layers.”
    “He gets it,” I say.
    Tinder takes off his pants. Above fraying boxers, his hip bones jut forward like they’re going to take out one of my eyes. I survey him up and down, looking pitifully at his knobby knees. Tinder pivots his toes in toward each other, making his feet like two edges of a triangle. He is clearly embarrassed, and I can’t take it anymore. I look away.
    “You’re going to have to win her with your personality,” Elektra says callously. “No one is going to fall for your body. Lure her in with your mind.”
    “That’s enough, Elektra,” I say.
    She shrugs. “Fine, but you’re only hurting him,” she says. “Now that I can guess your sizes, I’ll go pick you out some Easy clothes.”
    Finally, she leaves.
    “Hey, don’t listen to that stuff she said about your body,” I whisper as Tinder gets dressed. He pulls his pants up quickly and turns away from me in shame. “True love isn’t just about bodies. It’s more than that.”
    Tinder pops his heads through the top of his shirt. “You think I’ll find true love here?” he asks, looking back at me again.
    I sigh and nod. The truth