When Laura and I walked home from school we both agreed that the class acted pretty dull. But then, what can you expect? We were both surprised with mousy little Donna. You never can tell.
“But Sally’s the worst”, I said, thinking of her happiness in making sex sound stupid and dirty.
“I don’t know why you always pick on her”, Laura said, surprising me. Who, me? Me pick on Sally?
“What do you mean?” I asked, really feeling hurt and misjudged. “I don’t pick on her, I’m merely pointing out the obvious. She’s always behaving nastily. I can’t understand you at all, Laura.”
“Well, she’s not so bad, Jennifer. In fact, I’m getting to like her more all the time. I told you she can’t help the way she behaves, and she’s sorry, later.”
“She never apologizes. When I hurt someone’s feelings I’ll apologize on my own, she never does. And what makes you think she can’t help the way she is? People can be nice, with a little trouble.”
“Maybe some people can, but she had problems at home. Her mother and father are always fighting. Her mother always picks on her, that’s why she calls her mother names.”
“How do you know so much about her family?” I asked, suspicious. And I was right to be.
“Oh, I’ve been going over on the weekends”, she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world that my best friend was cozying up to my best enemy. “Did you know she has an older brother? He’s really nice, not at all like Sally. I mean like, he doesn’t act like her.?
“Hey, what happened to your crush on Bill McLaren?”
“Oh, him. He’s just a little kid. Sally’s brother Bill is fifteen! He’s good looking and he’s in high school and he plays hockey and he’s really terrific. He’s blonde and smart, and he talks to me.”
“That’s nice”, I said. I wasn’t about to tell her what I thought of her, the traitor. Some people will do anything to be noticed by a guy. It’s all right with me. I have an almost-fifteen brother too, but he wouldn’t bother taking any notice of a skinny nit like Laura. Oh, that’s awful. She’s skinny, but she’s not a nit. She only behaves like one.
I feel so bad inside. Like I don’t want to lose Laura to Sally. I’d still have my other friends, but Laura is kind of special. We spend so much time together, and tell each other all kinds of things.
*********************************************************************************
Debra came over after supper today. It’s really cold out this evening. We’re supposed to get maybe some light snow flurries. Debra’s face was all red from cold. She rode her bicycle over. Mom wouldn’t ever let me ride my bike in the dark, but Debra says she has good reflectors on the back of her bike.
Well, while she was over, Debra, we went into the living room for a minute and she saw the statue. Sculpture, I guess it’s called. The one that Dad and Mom bought each other for their eighteenth wedding anniversary. Boy, that’s a long time, eighteen years. Anyway, was she ever surprised. Shocked, I guess, because she got all embarrassed and wouldn’t look at it. I guess I should explain that it’s done out of marble, of a lady without any clothes on who’s sitting on a bench looking at a couple of birds who’re sitting on the bench, too. It’s really old, maybe a hundred years old, Dad says.
“What’s the matter?” I asked her. “Don’t you think it’s beautiful?” I wasn’t trying to embarrass her more or anything. I hardly ever notice it when I’m in the living room, I’m so used to it. But I do think it’s pretty nice. Sure, beautiful. I wanted to know why she felt so funny about it.
“My mother”, she almost whispered, and I could hardly hear her “wouldn’t like it”.
“Crap! What’s wrong with it?” I asked. “I think it’s really nice. We’re supposed to admire natural things and like my mother says, what’s more natural and beautiful than the human body? I mean, so what if she’s naked - she looks like a nice person!”
“Let’s go upstairs”, Debra said, still not looking at the sculpture. “My mother wouldn’t want me to look at stuff like that. We’re not supposed to.”
Well like, what can you say? So anyway, we went upstairs for a while, but we didn’t have too much to talk about. I guess we both felt kind of awkward because of what happened downstairs. Like what happened when we were living in our other house in Toronto and I happened to mention that my family doesn’t go to church or synagogue and all the other kids looked at me like I was nuts or something.
Actually, I guess we don’t have that much in common, me and Deb. She’s a year almost, younger than me and in a lower grade. But then I thought, why not give Munchkin and Grumpkin a bath? And I said it to Deb and she got excited, and we did. We went downstairs and I filled up Mom’s orange plastic tub-thing she uses in the laundry room with a couple of inches of soapy water, then we took turns bathing the pigs. Poor things, they hate being bathed, but I know what’s best for them. They have to get their fur and feet washed every so often. We use piggy-pet soap for them.
Later, when we were finished washing them, we wrapped them up in two old towels Mom gave me for them. They’re so silly looking when they get wet. All bedraggled looking, and they squeak like they’re being murdered.
Me and Debra took one apiece and went upstairs and cuddled them until they dried off and we fed them bits of celery so they’d be quiet. As long as they’re eating, they’re happy. Kind of like Larry, always worried about what he’s going to have for din-din.
Deb wanted to know which one I like the most, but I hate to pick one over the other. Munchkin is a light orange colour like caramel and she’s not as brave as her sister. Grumpkin doesn’t have as good a temper as Munchkin and sometimes picks on her - she’s a funny browny-white colour. I guess I like them both as much as the other. I’ve had them for over a year and a half now, and I really love them. Mom thinks I should give them away; that I’m too old for them, but I never, ever will.
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