endless taut balloon.
“Isn’t everything perfect?” Jamie said.
“Huh?” Tammy tossed some carob almonds in her mouth.
Debbie turned the page of her magazine.
“Everything’s perfect,” Jamie said. “I mean, we’re young, there’s nothing wrong with any of us—you know, no deformities or anything, no acne, we’re smart enough—no one’s failing school—we’re super-tan, I mean, we’re like as tan as you can be without passing into a different race—”
“I’m darker than Lupe,” Tammy said.
“She is,” Debbie said. “Lupe was, like, scrubbing the top of the stove yesterday and Tammy came in and was standing beside her and their arms were side by side and I swear, Tammy was darker than Lupe.”
“And I’m blond,” Tammy said. “How many people are as dark as a Mexican but are blond?”
“Mexicans who dye their hair,” Jamie said.
“Mexicans don’t dye their hair,” Debbie said.
“Wait, let me say why our lives are so perfect.”
“Okay, so we’re tan,” Debbie said.
“And we don’t really have to do anything, I mean, we’re not like those kids who have to work in factories sewing on buttons, or like Lupe’s daughter who helps Lupe out at Tammy’s house all the time. . . . I mean, really, we just have to show up for dinner every now and then.”
“I have to go to church,” Tammy said. She paddled the raft, with her one free hand, toward the edge of the pool where Jamie and Debbie lay.
“But you love church,” Debbie said.
“It’s not that I love it,” Tammy said, “it’s just that I think it’s good to go. I think my parents are right in making us go. I mean, God wants me there, so how can I say no?”
“And then there’s Flip,” Jamie went on as if Tammy hadn’t spoken, “I mean, like, I love him. He’s so dang cute and he said he loves me and that’s like the best feeling in the world, like better than thinking that God loves you or your parents love you or your sister loves you. . . . It’s just better than everything.”
“I need a boyfriend,” Tammy said.
“Me too,” Debbie said.
“And I need darker lips,” Tammy said, rubbing her bottom lip with her index finger. “I hate how pale my lips are.”
“Put on lip gloss,” Debbie said.
“Yeah, but it, like, comes off when I go swimming. I want to come out of the ocean, and, like, walk toward everyone on the beach and have my lips perfectly rose-colored. You know, like yours.” Tammy turned her head toward Debbie.
“My coloring is French,” Debbie said. “All French women have these really dark lips.”
“Get waterproof lipstick,” Jamie said.
“Lipstick is for old ladies,” Tammy said. “And they don’t make waterproof gloss. You know, it really upsets me some times. I, like, come up from a wave and my hair might be scooped back just so and I’ll have on the best suit, like that white one with ties on the sides, but then I know that I look all washed-out because my lips are so pale!”
“Okay, so with the exception of pale lips, your life is perfect,” Jamie said.
“No,” Tammy said, “I need a boyfriend.”
“Go for Brett,” Jamie said. “Flip said he’s so in love with you that he’s intimidated. If you wanted him, he could be your boyfriend tomorrow.”
“When did Flip say that? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did, I told you last night.”
“I don’t remember you telling me anything last night.”
“Maybe I just meant to tell you but forgot.”
“Go for it,” Debbie said.
“Brett’s hot,” Tammy said. “I thought he didn’t like me.”
“He loves you,” Jamie said. “You just have to let him know you’re interested.”
“I think I love Jimmy,” Debbie said. She had gone on three dates with him and it seemed to be developing into something.
“You should love Jimmy, he’s, like, the nicest guy I’ve ever met,” Jamie said. And she meant it. Jimmy asked questions when you talked to him; he didn’t just make jokes or quips.
“Isn’t everything perfect?” Jamie said.
“Huh?” Tammy tossed some carob almonds in her mouth.
Debbie turned the page of her magazine.
“Everything’s perfect,” Jamie said. “I mean, we’re young, there’s nothing wrong with any of us—you know, no deformities or anything, no acne, we’re smart enough—no one’s failing school—we’re super-tan, I mean, we’re like as tan as you can be without passing into a different race—”
“I’m darker than Lupe,” Tammy said.
“She is,” Debbie said. “Lupe was, like, scrubbing the top of the stove yesterday and Tammy came in and was standing beside her and their arms were side by side and I swear, Tammy was darker than Lupe.”
“And I’m blond,” Tammy said. “How many people are as dark as a Mexican but are blond?”
“Mexicans who dye their hair,” Jamie said.
“Mexicans don’t dye their hair,” Debbie said.
“Wait, let me say why our lives are so perfect.”
“Okay, so we’re tan,” Debbie said.
“And we don’t really have to do anything, I mean, we’re not like those kids who have to work in factories sewing on buttons, or like Lupe’s daughter who helps Lupe out at Tammy’s house all the time. . . . I mean, really, we just have to show up for dinner every now and then.”
“I have to go to church,” Tammy said. She paddled the raft, with her one free hand, toward the edge of the pool where Jamie and Debbie lay.
“But you love church,” Debbie said.
“It’s not that I love it,” Tammy said, “it’s just that I think it’s good to go. I think my parents are right in making us go. I mean, God wants me there, so how can I say no?”
“And then there’s Flip,” Jamie went on as if Tammy hadn’t spoken, “I mean, like, I love him. He’s so dang cute and he said he loves me and that’s like the best feeling in the world, like better than thinking that God loves you or your parents love you or your sister loves you. . . . It’s just better than everything.”
“I need a boyfriend,” Tammy said.
“Me too,” Debbie said.
“And I need darker lips,” Tammy said, rubbing her bottom lip with her index finger. “I hate how pale my lips are.”
“Put on lip gloss,” Debbie said.
“Yeah, but it, like, comes off when I go swimming. I want to come out of the ocean, and, like, walk toward everyone on the beach and have my lips perfectly rose-colored. You know, like yours.” Tammy turned her head toward Debbie.
“My coloring is French,” Debbie said. “All French women have these really dark lips.”
“Get waterproof lipstick,” Jamie said.
“Lipstick is for old ladies,” Tammy said. “And they don’t make waterproof gloss. You know, it really upsets me some times. I, like, come up from a wave and my hair might be scooped back just so and I’ll have on the best suit, like that white one with ties on the sides, but then I know that I look all washed-out because my lips are so pale!”
“Okay, so with the exception of pale lips, your life is perfect,” Jamie said.
“No,” Tammy said, “I need a boyfriend.”
“Go for Brett,” Jamie said. “Flip said he’s so in love with you that he’s intimidated. If you wanted him, he could be your boyfriend tomorrow.”
“When did Flip say that? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did, I told you last night.”
“I don’t remember you telling me anything last night.”
“Maybe I just meant to tell you but forgot.”
“Go for it,” Debbie said.
“Brett’s hot,” Tammy said. “I thought he didn’t like me.”
“He loves you,” Jamie said. “You just have to let him know you’re interested.”
“I think I love Jimmy,” Debbie said. She had gone on three dates with him and it seemed to be developing into something.
“You should love Jimmy, he’s, like, the nicest guy I’ve ever met,” Jamie said. And she meant it. Jimmy asked questions when you talked to him; he didn’t just make jokes or quips.
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