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founded.
    “ Yes, my father goes for the high markup.”
    “ Oh dear,” Toby sighed, “I seem to be a bit short at the moment.”
    “ Not as short as Rot Dugan when he used to come in here in that outfit.”
    Toby colored under his layer of brown. “Oh. Rot Dugan. Right.”
    Uma placed the mints on the counter in front of me. “Take them. You can pay me whenever.” No smile but a ghost of a glint in her lovely eyes. They were an improbable shade of pale violet-green.
    “ You’re awfully trusting.”
    “ Well, I know who you are.”
    “ You do?”
    “ Uh-huh.”
    “ Er, why’s that?”
    Lovely eyebrows were raised. “Well, we do live in the same small town.”
    “ I know. It’s a bummer. I mean, uh, being stuck out here in the boondocks.”
    “ It’s not the end of the earth, but you can see it from here.”
    Toby surprised himself by chuckling affably. “You can say that again. Well, I’m late for a wedding.”
    “ Not yours, I trust.”
    My heart flipped over. Dare I hope she cared?
    “ Uh, why do you say that?”
    “ Well, for one thing, you have no money. And you’re rather young for such a step.”
    “ That’s true, I suppose.”
    Uma placed the mints in my clammy hand. “Here you go.”
    “ Thanks. Well, I’m going now.”
    “ Have a nice day.”
    “ You too.”
    I wandered off in a fog and never did track down the errant couple. When I got back to the Dixie Belle, there they were already married and guzzling their mint juleps. Mr. Dugan, I knew, would dock me the $5, but I didn’t care. I’m more in love than ever. Uma knows who I am and we have already discussed marriage!
     
    MONDAY, July 4 – Independence Day. I wish I were independent of bodily malfunctions, but alas, that is not the case. It’s a mystery where all that liquid came from, since I went to bed terribly parched. I’ve thought of putting a rubber band around my dick, but I’m afraid it will turn black and fall off. What a blow to one’s budding social life that would be.
    No reply yet from my brother to my inquisitive e-mail. Those Twisps are such an uncommunicative lot.
    Now I wish I’d selected a candy bar yesterday. What if Uma is under the mistaken impression I have a chronic halitosis problem? I must try to get close to her and breathe heavily, but as Toby reminds me, that is precisely the point of the entire teen dating enterprise. Can’t write any more. I am being dragged off to the mountains by Grandma and old Mr. Tuelco. They love to fish. Why they feel the need to take along a hostage, I can’t really say. I could be missing out on some lucrative tips today too–not that I expect Mr. Dugan to call. Grandma informed him yesterday that I was to be paid double-time for all holiday and weekend services. I think she may be tiring of Toby, who’s been a bit surly lately what with his plumbing woes, thumb compulsions, and love-life distractions.
    11:12 p.m. I missed out on the big fireworks show. Not to mention the parade and civic barbeque. Uma was probably there the whole time and searching desperately for me. Where was I? Stranded out by some obscure tributary of the Humboldt River in the blazing summer heat. I sprayed “UPT” on a few rocks, then hung out in the shade with my excruciatingly antiquated Gameboy. Some fish were caught and eaten. Pretty good, but nothing you couldn’t find frozen and breaded at your local supermarket. Many beers were consumed, but none by me. Mr. Tuelco overdid it as usual, and Grandma had to drive his truck back. He lives down the road in an even shabbier trailer than ours. He’s married, but his old lady is locked away with a bad case of Alzheimer’s. He pals around sometimes with Grandma, but I don’t think they’re an item. The thought of them together bodily is too repulsive to contemplate. In his day Mr. Tuelco (first name Gus) was a phenomenal breeder; the whole town being lousy with his descendants, including about 27 grandkids in my school. Lots of locals