earrings."
"Not in their noses!" Rachael spoke up.
Freddie seemed to think deeply. "Nah, pirates ain't girls. They got, like, swords and knives."
"Ain't isn't a real word," Rachael corrected with a growl.
"Ain't so!" Keri said, and laughed. "It's a real word. I ain't got a problem with it." She ran a hand through her hair and applied her black lip gloss again.
Rachael became starched with surprise when Freddie fit the earring onto his nose and slowly turned the knob until it stayed. He shook his head, and the earring wiggled.
"How do I look?" he asked.
"Ugly," Rachael answered.
He ran to the bathroom with Keri to apply the black lip gloss.
"Don't!" Rachael scolded as she followed in long strides.
"Relax," Keri said. "We're just having fun. It's better than watching a stupid movie."
Rachel had to admit that it was sort of fun seeing her goofy little brother with an earring hanging from his nose. Still, she had to take a stand. "But it's not normal," Rachael countered.
"What's normal?" Keri stated that there were all sorts of ways to dress. Look at Africa, she argued. People wore bones through their noses and cheeks.
"Yes, that's okay
there,
" Rachael argued. "But we're here in America."
"Shallow people in America wear jeans and T-shirts. Get with it."
Rachael was hurt, and it showed in her reddening cheeks. "So it's okay to wear ugly stuff like those stockings of yours? They're cheap!"
"No, they cost quite a bit." Keri gazed at her long legs and adjusted her fishnets.
"Did it hurt?" Freddie butted in.
"Did what hurt?"
"Those things in your face." He pointed.
Keri let out a small barking laugh. "Like, yeah, it hurt." But she contended that she had suffered greater pains in life than what it took to staple her lip, nose, ears, and belly button. She bent over and brought out a small packet from her boot. "Italian coffeeâit's the best."
"What's Italian coffee?" Rachael asked.
Keri didn't bother to explain. She went to the kitchen, with Rachael and Freddie following. There she brewed the coffee in a saucepan and strained it into a coffee mug.
"Here," she said, and presented the cup to Rachael, who searched the surface of the hot, steamy brew. She could see her reflection, and suddenly she could see herself with a stud in her noseâsomething small as dust, something dainty. She then brought the hot coffee to her lips, sipped, and gave her tongue a few seconds to appraise the taste. She then uttered, "Strong."
"You have to get used to it," Keri advised. "If you want, add sugar."
Freddie said, "Let me try." He loaded the coffee cup with sugar and slowly brought it to his lips. He sipped, smacked his lips, and sipped again. "It's good."
Rachael took the cup from Freddie, sipped, and had to admit that it's deliciousness agreed with her.
Is this what Goth-types drink?
she wondered. She drained the cup.
"You know what?" Keri said after they drank two mugs of coffee each. "Rachael, you need to punk out." She went to her coat draped on the couch, brought a small bottle out of her pocket, and shook it. "Let's color your hair."
"No way!" Rachael screamed. She took a step back.
"You can wash it out," Keri argued. "It's not permanent. Come on, be mellow."
"Let me," Freddie begged. His grin revealed what was left of his baby teeth.
"Okay," Keri said. She seemed to weigh the wisdom of coloring the hair of a seven-year-old.
Rachael was amazed when, in the bathroom, Freddie bent his head over the tub and allowed Keri to work the dye into his hair. It lathered into a mountainous, orange frothy concoction.
"Close your eyes tight," Keri warned.
Rachael was worried that Freddie's eyes might turn orange as pumpkins and perhaps grow just as large if they became infected. After all, the dye had been in Keri's boot and there was no telling if maybe some of her foot germs had rubbed off when she opened the bottle. But when his head was toweled off, Freddie fluttered his eyes open. They weren't orange, but his head
"Not in their noses!" Rachael spoke up.
Freddie seemed to think deeply. "Nah, pirates ain't girls. They got, like, swords and knives."
"Ain't isn't a real word," Rachael corrected with a growl.
"Ain't so!" Keri said, and laughed. "It's a real word. I ain't got a problem with it." She ran a hand through her hair and applied her black lip gloss again.
Rachael became starched with surprise when Freddie fit the earring onto his nose and slowly turned the knob until it stayed. He shook his head, and the earring wiggled.
"How do I look?" he asked.
"Ugly," Rachael answered.
He ran to the bathroom with Keri to apply the black lip gloss.
"Don't!" Rachael scolded as she followed in long strides.
"Relax," Keri said. "We're just having fun. It's better than watching a stupid movie."
Rachel had to admit that it was sort of fun seeing her goofy little brother with an earring hanging from his nose. Still, she had to take a stand. "But it's not normal," Rachael countered.
"What's normal?" Keri stated that there were all sorts of ways to dress. Look at Africa, she argued. People wore bones through their noses and cheeks.
"Yes, that's okay
there,
" Rachael argued. "But we're here in America."
"Shallow people in America wear jeans and T-shirts. Get with it."
Rachael was hurt, and it showed in her reddening cheeks. "So it's okay to wear ugly stuff like those stockings of yours? They're cheap!"
"No, they cost quite a bit." Keri gazed at her long legs and adjusted her fishnets.
"Did it hurt?" Freddie butted in.
"Did what hurt?"
"Those things in your face." He pointed.
Keri let out a small barking laugh. "Like, yeah, it hurt." But she contended that she had suffered greater pains in life than what it took to staple her lip, nose, ears, and belly button. She bent over and brought out a small packet from her boot. "Italian coffeeâit's the best."
"What's Italian coffee?" Rachael asked.
Keri didn't bother to explain. She went to the kitchen, with Rachael and Freddie following. There she brewed the coffee in a saucepan and strained it into a coffee mug.
"Here," she said, and presented the cup to Rachael, who searched the surface of the hot, steamy brew. She could see her reflection, and suddenly she could see herself with a stud in her noseâsomething small as dust, something dainty. She then brought the hot coffee to her lips, sipped, and gave her tongue a few seconds to appraise the taste. She then uttered, "Strong."
"You have to get used to it," Keri advised. "If you want, add sugar."
Freddie said, "Let me try." He loaded the coffee cup with sugar and slowly brought it to his lips. He sipped, smacked his lips, and sipped again. "It's good."
Rachael took the cup from Freddie, sipped, and had to admit that it's deliciousness agreed with her.
Is this what Goth-types drink?
she wondered. She drained the cup.
"You know what?" Keri said after they drank two mugs of coffee each. "Rachael, you need to punk out." She went to her coat draped on the couch, brought a small bottle out of her pocket, and shook it. "Let's color your hair."
"No way!" Rachael screamed. She took a step back.
"You can wash it out," Keri argued. "It's not permanent. Come on, be mellow."
"Let me," Freddie begged. His grin revealed what was left of his baby teeth.
"Okay," Keri said. She seemed to weigh the wisdom of coloring the hair of a seven-year-old.
Rachael was amazed when, in the bathroom, Freddie bent his head over the tub and allowed Keri to work the dye into his hair. It lathered into a mountainous, orange frothy concoction.
"Close your eyes tight," Keri warned.
Rachael was worried that Freddie's eyes might turn orange as pumpkins and perhaps grow just as large if they became infected. After all, the dye had been in Keri's boot and there was no telling if maybe some of her foot germs had rubbed off when she opened the bottle. But when his head was toweled off, Freddie fluttered his eyes open. They weren't orange, but his head
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