Read Online The Adventures of Flash Jackson by William Kowalski - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William Kowalski
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seventeen, I felt like I could run around the whole world twice just to burn off extra energy. And I wanted someone to share that energy with. But one thing about where I lived was that there was a great shortage of people to talk to. I had a few friends from school, but most of them were boys, and during the summer they all had jobs and couldnât be bothered to come visit poor old gimpy me. Ididnât have one female friend that I could think of, not any good ones, anyway. Most of the girls at Mannville Junior-Senior High School thought I was weird, which I guess compared to them I wasâbut I took that as a compliment, considering who it was coming from. They were the lipstick set, the hair curlers and makeup wearers who thought the main purpose of their existence was to attract attention to themselves. Lord knows Iâd tried, when I was younger, to be more like them, but it never felt right.
Before my accident Iâd never missed having friends much. There was always Brother, who I rode all over Godâs green earth whenever Iâd a mind to. We went exploring everywhere, through the woods and across fields and way out into Amish countryânow, those folks were really isolated. It seemed like you passed through some kind of invisible barrier whenever you entered their territory, and you went back a hundred years or so. They kept to themselves most of the time, which was what I liked about them. I could go a whole day without exchanging a word with another human being, and considered myself richer for it, not poorer. But now that I was stuck leaning against the corral fence, watching and wishing, I started kind of taking stock of things. My life was flat-out dull, I realized. Something would have to be done about that.
Maybe I would give old Roberta Ellsworth a call. She and I used to be good friends when we were little, I mean years ago. But we had kind of gone different ways as we got older, if you know what I mean. Sometimes that just happens, for no particular reason. Sometimes I felt bad about not spending any more time with her, since it had been me that drifted away from her, not the other way around. Roberta had become a wallflowerâbut if she wasnât interesting, she was at least nice, and sheâd be someone to talk to. Someone besides my mother and poor old Franks and my horse.
Old Roberta didnât have many friends either. She wasnât pretty enough, which if youâre a girl means basically itâs all over for you. Thatâs not what I think, but itâs the rule most people seem to live by, at leastin high school. Roberta had a tendency to pick her nose in public ever since we were in kindergarten, and she always sounded like she needed to blow her nose. Not exactly Miss Popularity material. But when you have a broken leg, and youâre stuck inside all summerâ¦hell, at least we could talk about something different for a change, and I could tell her all about Miz Elizabeth Powell from London, England. It might be good to catch up with her, and see what all had taken place in her life in the last six or seven years. Just for a change of pace.
Iâm no raving beauty myself, you know. I havenât mentioned much about what I looked like back then, but the fact is I was pretty overweightâso is Mother, so itâs geneticâand my hair has always been kind of stringy and thin, and my hips are almost as wide as my shoulders. I wasnât getting a lot of attention from the fellows on the football team. Which was fine with me, of course. The people I care about donât mind what I look like. But itâs not pleasant being one of the plainer girls in school. Even if you donât put much stock in how much attention people pay to you, itâs still kind of hard to get ignored all the time. It wears on you after a while.
Â
Out in our neck of the woods you can hear a car coming when itâs still pretty far off. I think Brother heard it
Before my accident Iâd never missed having friends much. There was always Brother, who I rode all over Godâs green earth whenever Iâd a mind to. We went exploring everywhere, through the woods and across fields and way out into Amish countryânow, those folks were really isolated. It seemed like you passed through some kind of invisible barrier whenever you entered their territory, and you went back a hundred years or so. They kept to themselves most of the time, which was what I liked about them. I could go a whole day without exchanging a word with another human being, and considered myself richer for it, not poorer. But now that I was stuck leaning against the corral fence, watching and wishing, I started kind of taking stock of things. My life was flat-out dull, I realized. Something would have to be done about that.
Maybe I would give old Roberta Ellsworth a call. She and I used to be good friends when we were little, I mean years ago. But we had kind of gone different ways as we got older, if you know what I mean. Sometimes that just happens, for no particular reason. Sometimes I felt bad about not spending any more time with her, since it had been me that drifted away from her, not the other way around. Roberta had become a wallflowerâbut if she wasnât interesting, she was at least nice, and sheâd be someone to talk to. Someone besides my mother and poor old Franks and my horse.
Old Roberta didnât have many friends either. She wasnât pretty enough, which if youâre a girl means basically itâs all over for you. Thatâs not what I think, but itâs the rule most people seem to live by, at leastin high school. Roberta had a tendency to pick her nose in public ever since we were in kindergarten, and she always sounded like she needed to blow her nose. Not exactly Miss Popularity material. But when you have a broken leg, and youâre stuck inside all summerâ¦hell, at least we could talk about something different for a change, and I could tell her all about Miz Elizabeth Powell from London, England. It might be good to catch up with her, and see what all had taken place in her life in the last six or seven years. Just for a change of pace.
Iâm no raving beauty myself, you know. I havenât mentioned much about what I looked like back then, but the fact is I was pretty overweightâso is Mother, so itâs geneticâand my hair has always been kind of stringy and thin, and my hips are almost as wide as my shoulders. I wasnât getting a lot of attention from the fellows on the football team. Which was fine with me, of course. The people I care about donât mind what I look like. But itâs not pleasant being one of the plainer girls in school. Even if you donât put much stock in how much attention people pay to you, itâs still kind of hard to get ignored all the time. It wears on you after a while.
Â
Out in our neck of the woods you can hear a car coming when itâs still pretty far off. I think Brother heard it
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