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from SLANT... It’s TTGLIFF. That stands for Thank The Good Lord It’s Finally Friday. TGIF just seems too easy. And not only is it TTGLIFF, it’s half way through the day already. I’m standing in the lunch line, following along behind Julie. She takes a salad. I take a double cheeseburger. She takes water. I take chocolate milk. She skips dessert. I never skip dessert. It’s not that I’m fat. I’m not. Some would even say that I’m petite. It’s just that Julie looks at food and she gains weight. She pretty much hates me for my metabolism, and I hate her for her height, her wavy blond hair, and her girl parts, so I figure I hate her more than she hates me. Funny how we’re best friends. We met when my family moved into the tiny house behind her mansion. We were both Maia’s age now – five. The first time Julie saw me, she thought I was the gardener’s granddaughter, and I thought she was a giant fairy. She really looked like one. You know, all fluffy pretty and wispy and wide eyed, except she didn’t have any wings. That didn’t bother me, though. I figured she just kept them hidden under her shirt. So we got to be friends, her thinking I was one of the servants, and me thinking she was magic. Someone behind me in the lunch line bumps into me. I turn around. “Hey, chinko,” says Greg. He pats me on the shoulder. “Hi,” I say. His friend, Matt, says, “Yo gook face, got any toothpicks to hold your eyes open?” They both crack up. I kind of smile. What else can I do? Julie whirls around and glares at the boys. “Don’t talk to her like that,” she says through perfectly even, white teeth. She’s so tall she looks down on most guys. “Oh, come on, bones,” Matt says, still laughing, “we’re only joking around.” He looks at me. “Right?” I nod. I want to escape. My burger’s getting cold. “Well it’s not funny,” Julie says. “And don’t call me bones, you little twerp.” She pays the cashier, smacking her money down on the counter, and stomps away. “Man, what rhymes with itch?” Greg says. Matt opens his mouth. “Bi--” The lunch lady gives him the evil eye, which only makes those two laugh even more. I pay quickly and follow Julie to a table near the windows. She’s still glaring as I sit down. “Why do you let them talk to you like that?” she demands, picking up her plastic fork and wiping it on a napkin. She always does that. I shrug. “It’s no big deal,” I say, wondering if Daddy would call this a lie of submission? I pour catsup on my burger and squirt more out for my fries. “It’s racist and demeaning.” “They’re just jerks,” I say. “That doesn’t excuse them.” “They don’t know any better.” “You don’t know any better,” Julie says. “What do you mean, me?” I demand, sitting up straight. “I didn’t do anything.” “Exactly!” We don’t speak again through the rest of lunch. It’s lunch for me, it’s picking through her salad for Julie. She doesn’t eat anything that’s a certain shade of green, so I don’t know why she always gets a salad. Nothing green on a cheeseburger. She eyes mine hungrily and I purposely make a show of enjoying a great big bite. I’m on my chocolate pudding when Julie says, “So, do you still want me to come to the mall with you after school?” I look up in surprise. “Of course.” She nods and stands up, tray in hand. “Fine. I’ll see you in photography class.” “Okay, fine,” I say. “Well then, fine.” “Fine.” We smile at each other, still best friends. She waves and disappears into the throng of students who are clearing their tables, but she’s so tall I can still see her blonde hair bobbing along in the sea of heads as she aims right for the door. I finish my pudding and join the crowds, letting the surge push me this way and that. It’s easier to go with the flow than to shove against it. Luckily I’m pushed next to a garbage can where I dump my trash and deposit my tray. Unlike Julie, I’m so short I can’t see a thing except shoulders and backs until I’m released into the hall and the press of bodies spreads out. Finally I can breathe again. Until I see Sean O’Malley, that is. He takes my breath away, plain and simple.
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HOME ABOUT ME WHAT'S NEW MY BOOKS WRITING TIPS ILLUSTRATIONS SCHOOL VISITS FAQs THE MUSICAL LESSON PLANS CONTACT ME ORDER BOOKS LINKS copyright Laura E. Williams 2001-2008 |