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you.”
    Even though I am made of spider stew, there is a part of me that doesn’t mind feeling like this. Like maybe, maybe it’s possible I did something kinda sorta good.
    And I would relish this moment. I would. If I didn’t know that I was gonna pay for it, dearly, when Becky finishes at the orthodontist and hears what happened.

nine
    J ust like I thought, Shelli and I are leaving school, beginning our zillion-mile walk home, when here comes Becky.
    â€œWhat the fuck?!”
    Oh God. This is gonna be bad. Shelli just looks at the sidewalk. She knows what’s coming.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” I ask.
    â€œYou know what’s going on. Immigrant.”
    People are starting to look and this has the potential to ruin me. I dunno. Maybe I shoulda never stuck my neck out. Dumb conscience. Thanks a lot.
    â€œNo, I don’t.”
    â€œReally? Two words. Stacy. Nolan. Ring a bell?”
    â€œOh, yeah, my mom is SO. ANNOYING.”
    Becky stops. “Wait. What? What does your mom have to do with it?”
    â€œShe totally made me go over there last night and APOLOGIZE. It was SO. LAME.”
    And now I do a three-second eye roll.
    â€œShe did?”
    â€œYeah. It was like. Excruciating.”
    â€œWhat was her house like?”
    â€œKinda stupid. I dunno, it was like, her dad has those fake ducks everywhere.”
    â€œFake ducks?”
    â€œYeah, like mallards. I think that’s what they’re called.”
    â€œDid it smell?”
    â€œTotally. It totally smelled like soup. Even the lawn kinda.”
    â€œWhat a loser. I can’t believe you were talking to her.”
    â€œI know! But, like, I had to. My dumb mom was gonna ground me.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œYeah, for like a month.”
    â€œNo way.”
    â€œWay.”
    Now we all sigh, a collective sigh against the injustice of moms.
    â€œIt was SO queer.”
    â€œSounds like it.”
    Thank God Brad Kline comes barreling up. He puts his arm around Becky, who would look smug that she’s bagged the most popular guy in the school, if she didn’t look annoyed he was wrinkling her dress.
    â€œDude. Party at my house. Friday night. Be there.”
    And now he nods at me.
    â€œâ€™Specially you. Chip likes you. You know that?”
    Chip Rider is the second potato on the popular guy front. He’s blond and blue-eyed and looks like a Ken doll had a baby with a Cabbage Patch Kid.
    â€œSo, you coming?”
    â€œI guess so.” This guy Brad, seriously, has the IQ of a toaster oven.
    He’s got twenty dolt friends calling him over, so, praise the Lord and pass the cornflakes, he and Becky steer off into the abyss of jocks. Becky says something that has the jocks and all of their would-be girlfriends/hangers-on in stitches.
    Shelli and I duck out to our long days’ journey into the sidewalk. We are halfway down the block before we each let out a huge sigh of relief.
    â€œDude. That was close.”

ten
    W hat our folks are thinking, making us do this annoying long walk home every day, is beyond me. First of all, it’s starting to get cold. Late September is about to grab ahold of all that sun and fun, shake it up, and turn it into fall harvest fest, fright night, Homecoming, turkey day, and then the big Christmas explosion. But what that means right now is: cold and getting colder.
    It’s only like forty degrees today, the sun starting to set and Shelli and I forgot our coats. By “forgot” I mean we rolled our eyes when our moms asked where they were.
    Shelli’s mom is a real freak. Like, she’s a total Christian and is always talking about what would Jesus do, and the real meaning of Christmas, and how to hate gay people. If she only knew that before her very eyes she was raising her own personal Mary Magdalene, her eyes would probably roll into the back of her head and she’d start speaking in tongues.
    Here’s another thing: