had and have no one to talk
about it in person. She lacks attention from most directions in life, which is
probably the main reason she decides to keep him around.
As she approaches him, she only says, “Hey,
Paulie.” She could tell he is excited she said his name.
He reads her expression like a book page. “Come
on, let’s get out of here,” he says kindly.
***
From the day they first started talking, Paulie and
Margarette take the bus together to her house after school. Paulie quickly becomes
a very good friend. He stays with her from 4:15 p.m. until around 7:00 p.m.
almost every day. Some days he has excuses about doing homework together, and
others he plainly says he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. It is sweet, it is sad
and it quickly becomes familiar to her. She looks forward to spending her
evenings with him talking about books and old sci-fi movies.
Friday, though, all she wants is some time to
herself after school ends. She’s about to tell Paulie that she’s walking home
and he can’t follow her when a dramatic movement across the parking lot catches
her eye. She looks up to see Sharon getting into Mikey’s black 4x4 Jeep.
She closes her eyes and looks like she’s in pain.
“What?” Paulie asks, seeing her expression.
“Sharon’s been slutting it up all week, yet no one’s
talking about her . I’m the one getting shit for something that happened once .”
“Well, it’s her and her friends that are doing the
majority of the gossiping, so that makes sense,” Paulie rationalizes. He makes
a good point that she has absolutely no interest in hearing about.
“Her friends at one point were almost my friends. If they hadn’t been obsessed with Tommy, it would be us talking about her .” In some parallel universe , she adds to herself.
“What? No…. Things don’t just change like that.
You can’t just cross over and become one of them.”
“Why the frick not?”
“That’s the way it is. That’s the way you are. You
don’t really want to be one of them, do you?”
“Like you wouldn’t,” Margarette says. “I would in
a second. I’d sell my soul. I don’t even need a reason why. They all hate me
now—for nothing, because he doesn’t even seem to remember I exist. No one is
safe from them, except those in their group.”
“So that’s why you want to be one of them?” Paulie
asks, with a trace of disbelief in his voice. “To keep them from talking about
you, even if you know they’re not nice girls?”
“Nice? Every one of them is a bitch hypocrite. And
yes, I’d rather be one of them than have to deal with this shit.”
“What would you think of yourself then?” Paulie asks.
She shrinks away, confused, thinking somehow he
called her a bitch and those other words she thought sounded good strung
together. She says, now angrier than before, gritting her teeth, “I don’t know,
but it won’t happen….”
Paulie goes quiet hearing the change in her voice.
Two cheer cadet girls walk up to the pair,
murmuring in a spattered girl talk. Like two snakes sliding through a sleeping
bag, they sneak up on Margarette and Paulie. One with key lime shoes and a
skirt two sizes too small for her frame whispers, “You ask.”
The second, a rather plain girl with bleached
hair, says, “No, you ask.”
“No, you ,” Green Shoes repeats.
Bleached Hair rolls her eyes. “Fine.”
The blonde girl spins her hair nervously and
Margarette imagines her turning a crank. Then out the trivial comment falls.
“So is it true you like football players?”
Margarette kind of wishes it was Julie. Making
Julie look stupid was almost fun, but berating this little girl wouldn’t make
her feel better. Still, these girls are both sophomores and yet they had the
nerve to make fun of Margarette on school grounds. It just meant the bar had
lowered and the insults could come from anywhere.
“Everyone likes football players. But football
players don’t just like anyone ,” she
about it in person. She lacks attention from most directions in life, which is
probably the main reason she decides to keep him around.
As she approaches him, she only says, “Hey,
Paulie.” She could tell he is excited she said his name.
He reads her expression like a book page. “Come
on, let’s get out of here,” he says kindly.
***
From the day they first started talking, Paulie and
Margarette take the bus together to her house after school. Paulie quickly becomes
a very good friend. He stays with her from 4:15 p.m. until around 7:00 p.m.
almost every day. Some days he has excuses about doing homework together, and
others he plainly says he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. It is sweet, it is sad
and it quickly becomes familiar to her. She looks forward to spending her
evenings with him talking about books and old sci-fi movies.
Friday, though, all she wants is some time to
herself after school ends. She’s about to tell Paulie that she’s walking home
and he can’t follow her when a dramatic movement across the parking lot catches
her eye. She looks up to see Sharon getting into Mikey’s black 4x4 Jeep.
She closes her eyes and looks like she’s in pain.
“What?” Paulie asks, seeing her expression.
“Sharon’s been slutting it up all week, yet no one’s
talking about her . I’m the one getting shit for something that happened once .”
“Well, it’s her and her friends that are doing the
majority of the gossiping, so that makes sense,” Paulie rationalizes. He makes
a good point that she has absolutely no interest in hearing about.
“Her friends at one point were almost my friends. If they hadn’t been obsessed with Tommy, it would be us talking about her .” In some parallel universe , she adds to herself.
“What? No…. Things don’t just change like that.
You can’t just cross over and become one of them.”
“Why the frick not?”
“That’s the way it is. That’s the way you are. You
don’t really want to be one of them, do you?”
“Like you wouldn’t,” Margarette says. “I would in
a second. I’d sell my soul. I don’t even need a reason why. They all hate me
now—for nothing, because he doesn’t even seem to remember I exist. No one is
safe from them, except those in their group.”
“So that’s why you want to be one of them?” Paulie
asks, with a trace of disbelief in his voice. “To keep them from talking about
you, even if you know they’re not nice girls?”
“Nice? Every one of them is a bitch hypocrite. And
yes, I’d rather be one of them than have to deal with this shit.”
“What would you think of yourself then?” Paulie asks.
She shrinks away, confused, thinking somehow he
called her a bitch and those other words she thought sounded good strung
together. She says, now angrier than before, gritting her teeth, “I don’t know,
but it won’t happen….”
Paulie goes quiet hearing the change in her voice.
Two cheer cadet girls walk up to the pair,
murmuring in a spattered girl talk. Like two snakes sliding through a sleeping
bag, they sneak up on Margarette and Paulie. One with key lime shoes and a
skirt two sizes too small for her frame whispers, “You ask.”
The second, a rather plain girl with bleached
hair, says, “No, you ask.”
“No, you ,” Green Shoes repeats.
Bleached Hair rolls her eyes. “Fine.”
The blonde girl spins her hair nervously and
Margarette imagines her turning a crank. Then out the trivial comment falls.
“So is it true you like football players?”
Margarette kind of wishes it was Julie. Making
Julie look stupid was almost fun, but berating this little girl wouldn’t make
her feel better. Still, these girls are both sophomores and yet they had the
nerve to make fun of Margarette on school grounds. It just meant the bar had
lowered and the insults could come from anywhere.
“Everyone likes football players. But football
players don’t just like anyone ,” she
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