Ledge Walkers by Rosalyn Wraight Page A

second part of this is pretty simple,” I began, loudly enough to get their attention without having to resort to the sound of one Claudia clapping. “If you'd been to only ten minutes of one of our get-togethers, you'd know that as a group we are not normal. Most of us are not normal individually, either, but that's for another day.” I waited until the laughter and finger-pointing ceased. “So this has to do with penance for what we probably were in school: stupid enough to think we could stand in judgment of anyone else."

    Nobody had a clue what the heck we meant. I smiled as I opened the door. The group spilled out onto the front lawn, and slowly the bright, bright yellow in the driveway became a neon sign.

    Some of them yelled, “The short bus!"

    "We grew up to be strong, healthy women who need to ride the short bus?” Holly questioned.

    "Pretty much,” Claudia said.

    As everyone made a beeline for the school bus, I quickly pulled Susan aside. I wasn't sure what I was about to say was needed, but I had a feeling it was. I figured it was better to be safe than sorry to have removed the closet door without consent. “This will be rather public, Susan,” I said. “If you want to grab your Peter's Palace regalia, please feel free to do so."

    She looked perplexed, and I clarified, “The hat and glasses."

    "Ooooh! I don't think I need—” she started and stopped, apparently interrupting herself with better judgment.
    “Okay. I will."

    As she ran to her car, I turned and spied Claudia at the bus’ door, introducing our driver. “This is Phyllis. She will be driving us to our destination."

    Phyllis was the only one of our day's co-conspirators we did not know personally, and I hoped we did not live to regret it.

    Everyone clambered onto the bus, greeting Phyllis in passing. I found myself amazed that there were no fights about window seats. Maybe it was the do-gooder moniker that kept them from going off the deep end. I hoped that would carry through until we headed back home.

    After a short ride through the city and up an on-ramp, we headed down the highway. I enjoyed the fact that they had no clue what we were up to. They looked at every place, wondering if we had arrived. Soon, Phyllis slowed the bus and pulled us onto the shoulder. At first, they thought there was engine trouble, but then when Claudia and I stood, they realized that this was it.This?

    "We've adopted us a highway, girls,” I announced. “Three times a year, we are now responsible for cleaning this section of the highway."

    "Oh, cool!” Maggie said not surprisingly. “Do we get one of those signs like everyone else gets?"

    "Well, there's a story there,” I explained. “Seems the state was not too keen on ‘Sponsored by the Lesbian Adventure Club.’ They said we could use an acronym, though, but I thought ‘LAC’ made it sound like we were indeed in need of a short bus. So I decided to go with ‘DWD’ for Dykes Who Dare. At least DWD sounded like a bra size, abig bra size. So yes, we've got a sign."

    "The Big Boob Club! I can dig it,” Holly yelled.

    Give a group of obnoxious women a chance to grab themselves, and nine times out of ten, they will. And they did.

    My favorite manager got everyone's attention and read the required list of rules and safety precautions. “Above all else,” she emphasized, “be safe and don't do anything stupid. I know that's pushing it for some of you."

    I decided not to contemplate which of us she meant, lest I do something stupid like defend myself.

    We all disembarked, put the caution signs up, and donned the safety vests the state had supplied and we had stashed under the seats. Then we slid our hands into protective gloves, grabbed trash bags, and began the task at hand.

    Spring in the Midwest—or anywhere, I supposed—was an odd thing. It proved beautiful and repulsive simultaneously. Everything that got thrown away over the winter disappeared with each subsequent