lot, and Kenny inspected a few before he yanked one free.
“Nice meeting you,” I said as he began to pedal away.
“Not really.” He ran over my foot with the front wheel of the bicycle.
“These are brand-new boots!” I yelled.
But Kenny pedaled so fast, I’m not sure he heard.
I wondered who he thought he was. I was supposed to be mingling with Mr. Green Eyes. Instead, I was sitting in a parking lot with school property, about to get to know my gay principal better. It was one of those moments I asked myself, WWKD—what would Katy do?
9
IN A CHOICE BETWEEN TRUTH OR DARE, KATY always picked Dare and avoided Truth whenever possible. Honesty forces you into the past and makes you talk about wetting the bed when you were in grade school. Even if it’s an easy Truth, like “Would you go down on Mr. Sears the math teacher?” you limit yourself with a direct answer, because no matter what you say, someone is going to shriek, “Ewww.”
Responding to a dare, though, opens all kinds of possibilities. You don’t have to think; you just have to do. Even if the action you take is gross, nobody blames you because you were following orders. I asked a nun in the mall for a tampon once because Katy challenged me. After I committed the deed, I felt braver and stronger, more capable because my nerves didn’t keepme from taking a bold action.
Kenny battered my confidence by luring me to the parking lot. (I sat alone at lunch, never talked to Steve Allen, and had a long conversation with Mr. Gruber about how difficult it can be attending a new school that would have been considered pure dorkiness if Katy had heard it.) He was my first and only friend in Heaven. And yet, I reminded myself, I had successful daring exploits under my belt and I could soldier on.
After my last class of the day at Carrie Nation, I walked home rather than ride the smelly bus. I familiarized myself with the six brick buildings surrounding a square that were Heaven’s town center. I took note of the QuickMart and wondered if I might see Natalie’s pervert loitering nearby. I lingered near the Paradise Lounge, the place Aunt Denise used to spend afternoons when she should have been at work. While I peeked in the window at the inside of the bar, a drunk staggered along the sidewalk toward me, reeling as if he had wheels on his feet.
“Hey there, pretty lady,” he slurred, “you must be that little girlie who moved in next door.”
“Am I?” I asked. Even inebriated, the drunk seemed to know more about me than I did.
“You are.” He leered. He put a paw on my fluffy pink coat.
I read the name “Brent” on the front of his stained Carhartt jacket. I remembered Natalie saying that Kenny lived with his uncle Brent and I remembered Nana claiming that a Brent had urinated on her pansy bed once. Despite his poor bathroom habits, Brent had sex appeal—think Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean. He earned high numbers on the Maximum Man scale even though he smelled like he had eaten fried skunk for breakfast. Brent smiled and tugged his baseball cap and told me how much he hated President Bush.
“Oh.” I tilted my head and giggled.
“You remind me of a Chia Pet.” He leered.
He was too smelly to make out with, but I was flattered that he hadn’t ignored me or found a way to make a fool of me the way his nephew had. I appreciated his maturity. He said he needed to take a piss and stumbled into the Paradise Lounge while I walked home wondering if he would call the fake phone number I had given him.
I felt uplifted by the encounter.
If Natalie, the ultimate ice queen, could lose her virginity in Heaven, who knew what thrills ordangers awaited me. I could leap through the threshold into womanhood any second, and Natalie seemed a shining example of how prepared I needed to be. Baby Grace kept trying to cast a shadow on my Aphrodite confidence, but my neon lights flashed just the same.
Thank goodness Katy had given me some sexual
“Nice meeting you,” I said as he began to pedal away.
“Not really.” He ran over my foot with the front wheel of the bicycle.
“These are brand-new boots!” I yelled.
But Kenny pedaled so fast, I’m not sure he heard.
I wondered who he thought he was. I was supposed to be mingling with Mr. Green Eyes. Instead, I was sitting in a parking lot with school property, about to get to know my gay principal better. It was one of those moments I asked myself, WWKD—what would Katy do?
9
IN A CHOICE BETWEEN TRUTH OR DARE, KATY always picked Dare and avoided Truth whenever possible. Honesty forces you into the past and makes you talk about wetting the bed when you were in grade school. Even if it’s an easy Truth, like “Would you go down on Mr. Sears the math teacher?” you limit yourself with a direct answer, because no matter what you say, someone is going to shriek, “Ewww.”
Responding to a dare, though, opens all kinds of possibilities. You don’t have to think; you just have to do. Even if the action you take is gross, nobody blames you because you were following orders. I asked a nun in the mall for a tampon once because Katy challenged me. After I committed the deed, I felt braver and stronger, more capable because my nerves didn’t keepme from taking a bold action.
Kenny battered my confidence by luring me to the parking lot. (I sat alone at lunch, never talked to Steve Allen, and had a long conversation with Mr. Gruber about how difficult it can be attending a new school that would have been considered pure dorkiness if Katy had heard it.) He was my first and only friend in Heaven. And yet, I reminded myself, I had successful daring exploits under my belt and I could soldier on.
After my last class of the day at Carrie Nation, I walked home rather than ride the smelly bus. I familiarized myself with the six brick buildings surrounding a square that were Heaven’s town center. I took note of the QuickMart and wondered if I might see Natalie’s pervert loitering nearby. I lingered near the Paradise Lounge, the place Aunt Denise used to spend afternoons when she should have been at work. While I peeked in the window at the inside of the bar, a drunk staggered along the sidewalk toward me, reeling as if he had wheels on his feet.
“Hey there, pretty lady,” he slurred, “you must be that little girlie who moved in next door.”
“Am I?” I asked. Even inebriated, the drunk seemed to know more about me than I did.
“You are.” He leered. He put a paw on my fluffy pink coat.
I read the name “Brent” on the front of his stained Carhartt jacket. I remembered Natalie saying that Kenny lived with his uncle Brent and I remembered Nana claiming that a Brent had urinated on her pansy bed once. Despite his poor bathroom habits, Brent had sex appeal—think Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean. He earned high numbers on the Maximum Man scale even though he smelled like he had eaten fried skunk for breakfast. Brent smiled and tugged his baseball cap and told me how much he hated President Bush.
“Oh.” I tilted my head and giggled.
“You remind me of a Chia Pet.” He leered.
He was too smelly to make out with, but I was flattered that he hadn’t ignored me or found a way to make a fool of me the way his nephew had. I appreciated his maturity. He said he needed to take a piss and stumbled into the Paradise Lounge while I walked home wondering if he would call the fake phone number I had given him.
I felt uplifted by the encounter.
If Natalie, the ultimate ice queen, could lose her virginity in Heaven, who knew what thrills ordangers awaited me. I could leap through the threshold into womanhood any second, and Natalie seemed a shining example of how prepared I needed to be. Baby Grace kept trying to cast a shadow on my Aphrodite confidence, but my neon lights flashed just the same.
Thank goodness Katy had given me some sexual
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