stepped back.
George’s sparse hair stuck out in scraggly wisps above his ears and his prescription sunglasses were as thick as the bottoms of Walter’s beer bottles. The size of George’s nose was even more evident, sticking out between the bottle bottoms. David covered his own little nose. “Honk! Honk!”
“David!” Anna Mae was about to apologize for David when George blatantly let his eyes wander down her body. She moved the grocery bag to cover herself. Taking David’s hand, she stepped into the street, intending to walk around the back of the car. As they reached the rear bumper, George gunned the motor. It revved up so loudly she almost dropped the groceries and David’s face turned chalk-white. Anna Mae quickly pulled David around the car. When they reached the curb, George flipped the gears into reverse and shot backward into the street.
Without looking back, Anna Mae and David fled up the street. At the bottom of Vickroy Street hill, they stopped to listen to the loud muffler fading into the distance. Determined not to let the incident ruin the day, she joked, “Maybe he’ll drive off a bridge.”
“And into the river,” David added.
“And the Loch Ness Monster will eat him up.”
“But not the car.”
“Right!” She walked a few more steps. “Gus, (step) Grissom…”
David joined her. “Walter, (step) Shirra, (step) Junior! (step) Allan…”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The following week, the temperature soared into the nineties. In town, brawny men in damp undershirts and middle-aged women in flimsy cotton dresses sat on the row house stoops, drinking cold beer or iced tea, too hot to even gossip with their neighbors. It wasn’t any cooler in the Lipinski living room, where Stanley and his friend, JD, sat in front of a rattling fan.
Stanley didn’t know what the initials JD stood for. JD, in his cut-off Levi’s, sandals, tie-dyed tee shirt, long hair, fuzzy sideburns, a joint behind the ear, wouldn’t tell anyone his last name or where he lived—just somewhere across the river. Stanley thought that was so cool. However, it pissed Stanley off that JD was tall, lean, blond and quick witted while he was short, dark, and paunchy. Worse yet, sometimes JD used words he didn’t understand.
Stanley slid closer to the fan. “God, it’s hot!”
“Where’s everybody?”
“They’ll be here pretty soon.”
“Your parents?”
Stanley lit a reefer and took a deep drag, letting the smoke out with his words. “Hell no! Sarah took Davie to Bingo. My old man’s working four to twelve.”
“Where’s your sister?”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Stanley grumbled. “She’s not my sister!”
“Okay, smart ass. Where’s your cousin?”
“She’s upstairs. And she’s not my cousin either. She’s not related to me at all!”
JD took the joint from Stanley’s thick fingers and took a drag. “Since when?”
“Miss Anna Mae McBride was dumped on our doorstep,” Stanley said. “She’s Sarah’s sister’s kid. And Sarah’s not my mother. She’s my stepmother! So where’s the connection?”
JD raised an eyebrow. “So she’s fair game—even to you?”
“Yep! And she’ll be fourteen in a few months. Have you noticed th’ bod? I’ll give her a year or so…”
* * *
From her bedroom, Anna Mae heard voices downstairs. Stanley had invited his hippie friends to celebrate his eighteenth birthday. She would spend the evening at Debbie’s. But it was so hot outside, she put her usual modesty aside and dressed in her new blue and white shorts and matching halter.
She was sliding into her sandals when the beat of Jailhouse Rock shook the air. Below her window, the yellow convertible pulled to the curb. Four girls and six boys were crammed into the car. When they began climbing out, she grabbed her denim bag from her dresser and hurried into the hall. If she got downstairs soon enough, she could go through the kitchen and be out the back door
George’s sparse hair stuck out in scraggly wisps above his ears and his prescription sunglasses were as thick as the bottoms of Walter’s beer bottles. The size of George’s nose was even more evident, sticking out between the bottle bottoms. David covered his own little nose. “Honk! Honk!”
“David!” Anna Mae was about to apologize for David when George blatantly let his eyes wander down her body. She moved the grocery bag to cover herself. Taking David’s hand, she stepped into the street, intending to walk around the back of the car. As they reached the rear bumper, George gunned the motor. It revved up so loudly she almost dropped the groceries and David’s face turned chalk-white. Anna Mae quickly pulled David around the car. When they reached the curb, George flipped the gears into reverse and shot backward into the street.
Without looking back, Anna Mae and David fled up the street. At the bottom of Vickroy Street hill, they stopped to listen to the loud muffler fading into the distance. Determined not to let the incident ruin the day, she joked, “Maybe he’ll drive off a bridge.”
“And into the river,” David added.
“And the Loch Ness Monster will eat him up.”
“But not the car.”
“Right!” She walked a few more steps. “Gus, (step) Grissom…”
David joined her. “Walter, (step) Shirra, (step) Junior! (step) Allan…”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The following week, the temperature soared into the nineties. In town, brawny men in damp undershirts and middle-aged women in flimsy cotton dresses sat on the row house stoops, drinking cold beer or iced tea, too hot to even gossip with their neighbors. It wasn’t any cooler in the Lipinski living room, where Stanley and his friend, JD, sat in front of a rattling fan.
Stanley didn’t know what the initials JD stood for. JD, in his cut-off Levi’s, sandals, tie-dyed tee shirt, long hair, fuzzy sideburns, a joint behind the ear, wouldn’t tell anyone his last name or where he lived—just somewhere across the river. Stanley thought that was so cool. However, it pissed Stanley off that JD was tall, lean, blond and quick witted while he was short, dark, and paunchy. Worse yet, sometimes JD used words he didn’t understand.
Stanley slid closer to the fan. “God, it’s hot!”
“Where’s everybody?”
“They’ll be here pretty soon.”
“Your parents?”
Stanley lit a reefer and took a deep drag, letting the smoke out with his words. “Hell no! Sarah took Davie to Bingo. My old man’s working four to twelve.”
“Where’s your sister?”
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Stanley grumbled. “She’s not my sister!”
“Okay, smart ass. Where’s your cousin?”
“She’s upstairs. And she’s not my cousin either. She’s not related to me at all!”
JD took the joint from Stanley’s thick fingers and took a drag. “Since when?”
“Miss Anna Mae McBride was dumped on our doorstep,” Stanley said. “She’s Sarah’s sister’s kid. And Sarah’s not my mother. She’s my stepmother! So where’s the connection?”
JD raised an eyebrow. “So she’s fair game—even to you?”
“Yep! And she’ll be fourteen in a few months. Have you noticed th’ bod? I’ll give her a year or so…”
* * *
From her bedroom, Anna Mae heard voices downstairs. Stanley had invited his hippie friends to celebrate his eighteenth birthday. She would spend the evening at Debbie’s. But it was so hot outside, she put her usual modesty aside and dressed in her new blue and white shorts and matching halter.
She was sliding into her sandals when the beat of Jailhouse Rock shook the air. Below her window, the yellow convertible pulled to the curb. Four girls and six boys were crammed into the car. When they began climbing out, she grabbed her denim bag from her dresser and hurried into the hall. If she got downstairs soon enough, she could go through the kitchen and be out the back door
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