you’d better open
that pie hole of yours and tell me why.”
The Ritchie
Hudson silent treatment continues.
“Ritchie, if
you’re planning on pouting like a little bitch, I swear to God I’m leaving you
here.”
He frowns.
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not.
If you were sorry, you would have clued in to the fact that she and I were at
the top of the hill and away from prying eyes for a reason.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not
sorry.”
“I sorta am.”
“Where are we
going?”
He opens up into
a wide grin. “To make all your dreams come true.”
“My dreams were on
the verge of coming true, stupid.”
“I mean, like your
other dreams.”
“What are you
talking about?”
“Trust me.” He
rips my book-bag from my hands and tosses it into the ditch. “Now we’re even.”
“You’re such a…”
I climb into the ditch to retrieve it. “Now everything’s wet. My books, my notes—everything.”
“Quit yer cryin’.
You’re acing all your classes anyway.”
“Finals are in
two weeks, asshole. I need those notes.”
“What difference
does it make? You already got accepted. In two more weeks you’re all the way
gone. A new zip code, a new city, a new life. You’re leaving us all behind
anyway. You might as well skip finals and leave town now.”
“Is that what
this is about?”
“Is that what
what is about?”
“What did I ask
you like ten minutes ago? Where. Are. We. Going?”
“The one place
that might convince you to stay.”
“It’s not like
I’m leaving forever.”
“Yeah, well once
you see this, you might stick around. This is, like, the most amazing thing
ever.”
“What is?”
“I seen Sharon on my way past, and she was sunbathing. Nude.”
“Sharon who?” I ask. “Sharon Daniels?”
“No, Sharon
fucking Stone. How many Sharons do you know?”
“What do I care
if she’s sunbathing nude?” I ask. “Ritchie, I’ve got a girlfriend, and if you
hadn’t noticed, I was already on second base when you so rudely interrupted.”
“Kristie’s
cute,” Ritchie says. “I’ll give her that. She’s cute, but she ain’t no Sharon
Daniels.”
“And it’s not
like you can just accidentally walk by her backyard,” I argue. “What
were you doing, peeping through her fence?”
“There wasn’t
nothin’ accidental about it. And it’s not like she was hiding. She’s just
making it easy. I think she likes it. Hell, if I had a body like that, I
would.”
“You’ve got a
body like a Mr. Potato Head. I’m going back.”
I even turn
away, but Ritchie grabs me by the arm. “You’re not going nowhere. This is a
life-changing moment. Trust me.”
“This is
pathetic. Seriously, you should be embarrassed,” I answer, but I follow anyway.
For the record, Sharon is over twenty one. Four years may not sound like a lot, but to an eighteen year
old kid, it’s the difference between ‘girlfriend’ material and ‘untouchable’
hotness. Her dad is a salesman who’s always traveling, and her mom is a flight
attendant who’s also largely absent. Sharon never went to college, so until she
sorts through the long list of potential husbands begging for her attention,
she’s staying at home on her parents’ dime. She’s an only child, spoiled from
birth and starved for attention, and to her benefit, she has the kind of body
that warrants attention, so she puts it on display, advertising to the highest
bidder.
Ritchie leads me
along an abandoned train track that runs up behind Sharon’s fenced in backyard.
It’s one of those wooden fences where the slats are four inches wide with only
a half-inch gap in between. The fence is old and weathered, the planks gray and
shriveled from brutal summers under the hot sun. I feel like a thief stealing
my way into someone’s private life. The afternoon is dry, the bugs out in force
and the ground under our feet crunchy and loud enough to give us away.
“Are you sure
about this?” I ask.
“I will be if
you’d keep it
that pie hole of yours and tell me why.”
The Ritchie
Hudson silent treatment continues.
“Ritchie, if
you’re planning on pouting like a little bitch, I swear to God I’m leaving you
here.”
He frowns.
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not.
If you were sorry, you would have clued in to the fact that she and I were at
the top of the hill and away from prying eyes for a reason.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not
sorry.”
“I sorta am.”
“Where are we
going?”
He opens up into
a wide grin. “To make all your dreams come true.”
“My dreams were on
the verge of coming true, stupid.”
“I mean, like your
other dreams.”
“What are you
talking about?”
“Trust me.” He
rips my book-bag from my hands and tosses it into the ditch. “Now we’re even.”
“You’re such a…”
I climb into the ditch to retrieve it. “Now everything’s wet. My books, my notes—everything.”
“Quit yer cryin’.
You’re acing all your classes anyway.”
“Finals are in
two weeks, asshole. I need those notes.”
“What difference
does it make? You already got accepted. In two more weeks you’re all the way
gone. A new zip code, a new city, a new life. You’re leaving us all behind
anyway. You might as well skip finals and leave town now.”
“Is that what
this is about?”
“Is that what
what is about?”
“What did I ask
you like ten minutes ago? Where. Are. We. Going?”
“The one place
that might convince you to stay.”
“It’s not like
I’m leaving forever.”
“Yeah, well once
you see this, you might stick around. This is, like, the most amazing thing
ever.”
“What is?”
“I seen Sharon on my way past, and she was sunbathing. Nude.”
“Sharon who?” I ask. “Sharon Daniels?”
“No, Sharon
fucking Stone. How many Sharons do you know?”
“What do I care
if she’s sunbathing nude?” I ask. “Ritchie, I’ve got a girlfriend, and if you
hadn’t noticed, I was already on second base when you so rudely interrupted.”
“Kristie’s
cute,” Ritchie says. “I’ll give her that. She’s cute, but she ain’t no Sharon
Daniels.”
“And it’s not
like you can just accidentally walk by her backyard,” I argue. “What
were you doing, peeping through her fence?”
“There wasn’t
nothin’ accidental about it. And it’s not like she was hiding. She’s just
making it easy. I think she likes it. Hell, if I had a body like that, I
would.”
“You’ve got a
body like a Mr. Potato Head. I’m going back.”
I even turn
away, but Ritchie grabs me by the arm. “You’re not going nowhere. This is a
life-changing moment. Trust me.”
“This is
pathetic. Seriously, you should be embarrassed,” I answer, but I follow anyway.
For the record, Sharon is over twenty one. Four years may not sound like a lot, but to an eighteen year
old kid, it’s the difference between ‘girlfriend’ material and ‘untouchable’
hotness. Her dad is a salesman who’s always traveling, and her mom is a flight
attendant who’s also largely absent. Sharon never went to college, so until she
sorts through the long list of potential husbands begging for her attention,
she’s staying at home on her parents’ dime. She’s an only child, spoiled from
birth and starved for attention, and to her benefit, she has the kind of body
that warrants attention, so she puts it on display, advertising to the highest
bidder.
Ritchie leads me
along an abandoned train track that runs up behind Sharon’s fenced in backyard.
It’s one of those wooden fences where the slats are four inches wide with only
a half-inch gap in between. The fence is old and weathered, the planks gray and
shriveled from brutal summers under the hot sun. I feel like a thief stealing
my way into someone’s private life. The afternoon is dry, the bugs out in force
and the ground under our feet crunchy and loud enough to give us away.
“Are you sure
about this?” I ask.
“I will be if
you’d keep it
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