NEXT UP! 3 14 junior high school, the rich kids talked about college. If I made those grades, I’d get a scholarship, then I’d go too. I also had to stop talking the way we talked at home. I could think bad grammar all I wanted, but I learned rapidly not to speak it. Then there was the problem of clothes. I couldn’t afford all those clothes. The next fall, when Carrie took me to a Lerner Shop for my wardrobe, I told her I didn’t want two-dollar blouses from Lerner’s. She didn’t get mad like I expected. In fact, she seemed pleased that I was taking an interest in my appearance. It gave her hope for my femininity. She agreed that I could buy a few good things from a better store. Kids at school may have noticed that I wore the same things a lot, but at least they were good things. And I knew I couldn’t make my way by throwing parties. What would we all do, dance to the power plant hum? Anyway, I wasn’t up for bringing those snots home. I decided to become the funniest person in the whole school. If someone makes you laugh you have to like her. I even made my teachers laugh. It worked. It was about this time during the last of eighth grade that Leroy and I began to understand we weren’t going to run away together and become famous actors. One Sunday when the ixora were in full bloom and everything was bright red we went up to Loxahachee. Leroy and I were down by the canal at Old Powerline Road, fishing. Leroy wasn’t a tub anymore. He had grown his hair into a d.a. that curled over his denim jacket with the bloody eyeballs on it. “Hey, is it true you’re flunking out this year?” “Yeah, the old man is ready to take the strap to me but I don’t give a damn. School’s stupid. There’s nothing they can teach me. I want to go make money and buy me a Bonneville Triumph like Craig’s.” “Me too, and I’d paint mine candy apple red.” “You can’t have one. Girls can’t have motorcycles.” “Fuck you, Leroy. I’ll buy an army tank if I want to and run over anyone who tells me I can’t have it.” Leroy cocked his slicked head and looked at me. “You know, I think you’re a queer.” “So what if I am, except I’m not real sure what you mean by that.” Background Carrie is Molly’s adoptive mother. a scholarship – námsstyrkur rapidly – hratt appearance – útlit a power plant – raforkuver a hum – suð snots – krakkaormar ixora – blómategund a tub – þéttur d.a. – skammstöfun fyrir „duck’s ass“ (hárgreiðsla vinsæl í kringum 1950) to flunk out – hætta í skóla/ falla to take the strap to – slá með belti to cock – hér: halla höfði queer – hinsegin
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