CHAPTER 10
The rest of the weekend was pretty boring — but how could it be any other way after accidentally decking Kelly Carson and almost tackling a criminal. We went to the new Avengers’ movie Saturday afternoon (I had popcorn and Wheat took one handful) and we caught up on our homework.
I worked on my biology project, which is how the temperature of water affects the activity of frogs. I separated Notre and Dame into two aquariums two weeks ago and kept Notre in water five degrees cooler than Dame. I don’t think Notre’s been all that happy about it. He certainly sits on top of his rock a lot more than Dame. I’m working on some kind of theory that hasn’t exactly jumped out at me yet. Hmmm, jumped. Maybe that’s what I’ll do — I’ll measure how far they can jump after they have been sitting in their respective temperatures.
Wheat said I should kiss each one of them and see which one dies first. I told her that she should kiss Notre and see if he turns into Prince Charming or Shrek. Then I could kiss Dame and see if she turned into a princess or stayed a frog. As you can see, I’m sort of struggling with a theme for my science project. I don’t even know if Notre is a boy and Dame is a girl.
I’m also a little worried my frogs end up being victims of our little brother’s curiosity. The other day, I caught him up on my desk and throwing a couple of his little motor boats in Dame’s aquarium. He said something about pee-pee water, too, before I jerked him down.
Anyway, we did go to church on Sunday morning. Wheat and I alternate in the nursery as helpers since Lake went crazy the first time Mom and Ric tried to leave him there.
He doesn’t mind, though, if one of us is in there with him. I don’t think either Wheat or I mind, either. There are some cool little kids in there besides Lake. And we both get a little embarrassed how loud Mom sings the hymns. She’s pretty good but she seems to want to drown out anybody else in the pew. I’m probably exaggerating here but the choir leader must have noticed because she asked Mom to join the choir.
Mom said she might after Lake gets a little older. In my opinion, she needs a few hobbies. She hasn’t taught kindergarten since Lake was born and has too much time on her hands. She tries to get a little too involved in my and Wheat’s lives if you ask me. She means well but moms can be moms and she is full-time at it right now. I guess she always is a full-time mom but sometimes it makes her seem like a full-time pain, even if she is pretty wonderful.
For example, she really pays attention to what we wear and our clothes drawers and closet at home look like we’re in the Army or something. Everything has its place. Every sock has its match. Every piece of clothing is either neatly hung or folded.
I once opened a drawer that belonged to our cousin Jimmy — Uncle Mason and Aunt Lilly’s youngest son — and sweat socks and dark socks were thrown in any old way. I saw a couple of candy bar wrappers in there, too. Mom would have a heart attack if one of my drawers looked like that.
Even our wrestling outfits are quickly washed and ironed when she finds them in our gym bags. So I’ve been leaving mine in my locker until it really works up a good stink. If Wheat is going to use Midnight Breeze as a weapon, I might as well use good old b.o. to my advantage. It seems to work for Big Jim.
Mom doesn’t want us in jeans and sneakers at church, either, even though most of the kids wear them. So I have had to put on nice slacks and a pressed shirt to go to church on Sunday mornings and then a sports coat and tie on Monday nights for dance lessons. It sort of ruins the start of the week.
But with Ric’s help, we finally convinced Mom that whoever works in the nursery could dress down a little since we are always on the floor playing with the toddlers and getting juice and other stuff spilled on us. And Wheat will change a diaper, which can get a little messy. I let whichever mother is in charge of the nursery do that duty.
So it’s a pretty big deal to us who works in the nursery — partly because of what we can wear … partly because of Mom’s singing … and partly because we do get a few looks in the pew. I just think that some people can’t figure out our family since one week I’m sitting out with our parents and the next week, it’s Wheat.
One old lady who often sits near us must not see all that well even though she wears glasses. After one service, she patted me on the hand and said she liked that I was now wearing my hair short. My hair is always short. I felt like asking her if she liked me when I had a sun-tan every other week but figured that would be rude. At least she must realize I’m a boy. I spared Wheat that story.
That reminds me of the time when Wheat and I went roller skating a few years ago. I had on a stocking cap pulled down over my ears and the guy at the counter gave me white skates just like Wheat got. I didn’t think much about it until they started cutting into my toes and then noticed every other guy had on black skates.
When I took them back, saying I needed a bigger size (I guess girl size sixes aren’t the same as boys size sixes), the guy gave me a bewildered look. I had taken off my stocking cap. He then gave me white shoes one size bigger to wear — still girl skates. And I just took them without saying a word. I didn’t do much skating after that, hanging around the snack bar. I think I’m probably confident enough that I would say something now. I hope so.
Anyway, when we got home from church, I hustled over to the funeral home and pushed a little snow off the sidewalks. Todd, the oldest of the Dixon brothers and a rangy 6-foot-5 — I just heard a sports writer use the word rangy — had called me before church and said he could also use a little help before a visitation. I thought he meant doing something like emptying all the trash receptacles and setting up some chairs, which I have done before.
But he sort of floored me when he asked if I was okay being around “people who have passed.” I guess that was a more polite way of saying “being around people as dead as door nails.” He told me his brother Michael was on vacation and one of their other funeral directors wasn’t going to be able to get there until right before the visitation.
“I need help moving Mr. Overton down to the viewing room,” he said.
“Sure,” I said even if I wasn’t so sure.
I had been in the funeral home before when bodies were already in the viewing room and situated in their caskets. Nowhere else, though. I wondered just for a second if Todd would mind if I called Wheat to see if she also wanted to help — ha, ha.
He led me up to the second floor where there are a couple of offices, a kitchen and the prep room, which is through a door off the kitchen. I don’t think I could eat lunch up there. Sorry, spirits, that’s just me.
“There are three bodies in here, including Mr. Overton,” Todd said. “Are you sure you’re OK with this? If your Dad’s home, I could call him. I know he has helped with removing bodies as a responding officer.”
“I’m good,” I said.
I took a deep breath and followed Todd through the kitchen and into the prep room. My hands were shaking a little so I stuck them in my pocket. I took a quick look around and saw two people under sheets on gurneys with only their heads and toes showing. One was a gray-haired woman and one was a younger man.
“The lady there, Mrs. Johnson, pretty much died of old age — lived a wonderful life,” Todd said. “And the big guy, Mr. Masters, died of a massive heart attack, leaving behind a wife and a couple kids. A real tragedy for everyone involved.”
They both looked peaceful to me but as white as the sheets that covered them up to their necks. I had a hard time taking my eyes off them. I felt a certain responsibility to acknowledge that their lives had had meaning and they weren’t just dead bodies. I’m thinking that’s what I was thinking anyway.
I noticed that my hands were also a little sweaty but they weren’t shaking anymore at least.
Mr. Overton was over in the corner on a gurney, already dressed in a black suit with a reddish tie. He was a little man with a grey crewcut and a neatly trimmed mustache. An oak casket was beside his gurney. “Oh, wow,” I said to Todd. “When you said we were going to move him, I was thinking we were going to have to carry him down into the viewing room.”
He laughed. “Not the way we usually do it. You grab him by the feet and I’ll take his shoulders and we’ll put him in the casket. Mr. Overton was a steel worker over in Gary for most of his life — hard and sometimes dangerous work. I know his daughter Sue. She said he was always active and never had an ounce of fat on him. She said he never weighed more than 150 pounds. And after he battled some health problems, I weighed him at 118 pounds yesterday. That’s why I figured you could help me.”
I didn’t feel it was the appropriate time to mention that Mr. Overton would have been in my wrestling weight class.
I hesitated just for a moment and then grabbed him by the ankles and we lifted him into the open casket. It wasn’t as creepy as I thought it would be. Then I helped Todd wheel the casket to the little elevator lift at the far end of the prep room. I didn’t even know it existed until then.
It is an open shaft with a carpeted lift floor that works with an electric pulley. Todd told me it went all the way down into the basement where extra caskets and other supplies are stored.
We rode it to the first floor, where the lift is hidden behind a couple of white double doors. We then wheeled the gurney and the casket with Mr. Overton in it into the viewing room. Todd worked a little on Mr. Overton’s makeup and placed a picture of his family and a little Bible in the casket beside him. He then set a White Sox cap up by his head. “A great fan, his daughter said,” Todd added as I watched from a few feet back. “And he hated the Cubs, absolutely hated them — but we’ll overlook that.”
Being a Cub fan, I didn’t liked hearing that so much. But the other stuff and the fact that he was a baseball fan made me feel a certain connection with Mr. Overton. He wasn’t just a body anymore to me. He was somebody’s father, probably a grandfather, too, a hard worker and a sports fan. I think I would have liked him.
After Todd straightened Mr. Overton’s tie, he said, “Billy Ray, I usually say a little prayer after I have people situated. It’s just something I do. There will be enough prayers said over him later today and at his funeral tomorrow. But I since I prepared him for his final destination, I feel like I’ve had a chance to glimpse a little bit of his soul as it departs. You don’t have to, but I’m inviting you to join me if you would like.”
I did. And Todd said a nice prayer about what a decent man that Mr. Overton had been. At the end, he brought a little humor into it by saying, “And keep those Chicago teams winning, Mr. Overton. Even the Cubs.”
I had to work hard not to start misting up. I’ve said my prayers at night since I was a little kid and I bow my head and listen as intently as I can as our minister prays during Sunday service. Yet this was the first time a prayer really felt like it hit home for me.
As I got ready to leave, Todd handed me two $20 bills. “That’s way too much,” I said.
“I didn’t pay you for the last time you shoveled the walk and the way the forecast looks, I might need you in the next couple of days. And if we ever get a warm spell, I wouldn’t mind if you shoveled around our basketball goal out back. I need some exercise and a chance to put my little brother in his place.”
I said I could do that and started thinking about his brother Michael being called little at 6-foot-4. I also thought that the money would come in handy for a corsage for Laurie. Mom told me we needed to get her one. But mostly, I thought of Mr. Overton and his life.
When I got home, I knew Wheat was going to ask me if I saw any bodies. And she did before I got my boots off. I told her I saw three and let it go at that. She didn’t look like she wanted to ask any more questions anyway. At some point, I figured I would ask Ric about his experience with going into a house where a person has died. I guess I no longer believe in ghosts. Maybe spirits, but not ghosts.
After dinner — vegetarian pizza — I thought about calling Laurie. In fact, I had thought about calling her all weekend. But I couldn’t come up with what I would say. I sometimes watch those TV shows with teen-agers always spewing out clever things on the phone. I didn’t think I could do it. I was starting to think that having a crush on somebody is a lot easier than actually having some sort of relationship with them, no matter how insignificant it might be.
I prayed for Mr. Overton’s soul that night and the other two people in the prep room although I couldn’t remember their names. I also prayed for my biological dad’s soul. I hadn’t thought of him in a while and I felt a little guilty. His name was John and he sold farm equipment. He was sick during a lot of the time I knew him. He had been a good dad, though. Ric has filled in for him so well that I sometimes put the memories of my first dad aside. I’m going to try not to do that anymore.
CHAPTER 11
Most of Monday was mundane. I like how that sentence sounds. When I write stuff for English, I always like to use some alliteration. Maybe I use it too much. But Mrs. Murphy seems to like it.
Part of the reason things weren’t that exciting was that Laurie wasn’t in English class — her friend Debbie who sits a row behind me said she had a cold — and I got a B-minus on a history test. I guess I studied the wrong chapter. I had studied the one on Lewis and Clark but I was supposed to know all about the Louisiana Purchase. I already knew something about that and so I didn’t do too terrible. But a B-minus is still a B-minus.
If I hadn’t named my frogs Notre and Dame, I figured that Lewis and Clark might be good names for them, although they don’t get to do too much exploring in their aquariums. Someday, I wouldn’t mind making a pond outside for them. But then they might head out for some long-range exploring like Lewis and Clark did.
Finding out Laurie was sick made me feel a little bad that I hadn’t called her. I could have told her to get well. But then again, maybe I would have just ended up getting her off the couch when she wasn’t in the mood to talk. Or maybe her dad would have answered the phone and told me to stay away from his daughter. Too many what-ifs there.
Practice was all about getting ready for Mishawaka on Tuesday. Coach Mathews went over our various match-ups and he acted like we could win the meet. He always acts like we can win every meet with a top opponent but this time I really think he believed it. Mishawaka is ranked 7th in the state so it would be very big if we could.
Wheat and I got home and had to really hustle to get ready for our ballroom dancing class. I let her go first in the shower since she said she wanted to wash her hair. I ended up having to eat a grilled cheese sandwich in the back of Ric’s squad car on our way to the class.
I’m not telling mom this but I am sort of liking the dancing this year. I never thought I would say that. I hate wearing the coat and tie that gets my neck all itchy. I hate all the little formalities that Mrs. Gray makes us go through, like getting punch for the girls midway through the lesson and bowing and curtseying like we’re in one of those old British movies. But I do sort of like the dancing.
Wheat does, too. And Bobby Taylor really likes it because Wheat is in the class. I’m a lot better dancer than Bobby and if I say so myself, I’m probably a little better than Wheat. We don’t say anything about that but I think she knows it. Hmmm, maybe I should say something.
Mrs. Gray sometimes even uses me to help demonstrate a dance. Hey, I do get $5 a session as a junior assistant instructor. She says I’m a fast learner. Her real assistant instructors are all older girls but they need some goof to serve as their partner when they demonstrate.
Jessica Lercher, who’s now a freshman at Saint Mary’s College, even gives me a little smile when I am the one to join her. I’m an inch or two taller than last year and so I can almost look her in the eye — or at least up her nose — and my guiding hand knows just where to go.
Every time I put it on the small of her back, she says, “Now keep your hands right where they are, pardner,” like I’m thinking about having a shootout with her or something. She hasn’t forgotten my little faux paus — I think that’s French for being a dufus — but I’m glad she has a sense of humor.
We have the dance class in a big Masonic Hall and there are probably 120 of us from the eight high schools in South Bend and nearby Mishawaka. This was the fifth lesson of the year and we were going to work on the waltz.
About the time we were ready to start, who walked into the hall but Big Jim and Sally Guffie. I about had a panic attack. They hadn’t said anything about it on our morning ride. In fact, I don’t remember Sally saying anything to me the last three days of our rides to school. And I’m not sure they even knew that Wheat and I took lessons. I had to look at them a couple of times just to make sure it was them.
Big Jim looked like Shrek in a suit — only more pink than green — but Sally looked like somebody that would cause girls to stare in envy and guys to …. well, stare like guys do. She had on a pretty yellow dress and her hair up in a way that I guess hid her horns. I’m not kidding, the first thing I thought about was Beauty and the Beast. Who would ever guess that they were brother and sister?
But the No. 1 surprise of the night was that Sally didn’t look like she felt totally in charge of the situation. In fact, I thought she looked a little bit nervous. Ha, ha, I thought. What comes around …
And just then, Mrs. Gray did the unthinkable. “Oh, yes, our new students. Jessica, why don’t you work with the young man and Billy Ray, would you please help our new young lady?”
Sally seemed relieved and actually smiled at me, but not enough to show her fangs. “Well, Little Man, so you’re going to show me the ropes?” she said as she walked up to me, her hand held out in an exaggerated way.
I stood my ground. “You can call me Billy Ray or Spanky or even Sir William of South Bend if you want, but don’t call me Little Man anymore. If you do, you can go over there and stand by the punch bowl until some guy nerdier than me comes over and asks you to dance,” I said.
Sally looked at me with amusement. “Well then, Sir William it is,” she said.
And with that, I led her through a waltz. We were actually pretty good together. I mean we weren’t going to get 10s on “Dancing with the Stars,” but we at least might have looked like we had a clue. She had a nice glide to her. Unlike a lot of girls who are a little bigger than me, Sally didn’t make me fight her for the lead. That surprised me, too.
After the dance, Mrs. Gray went over the steps of the foxtrot that we had worked on the previous week. Usually, I would dance with the girl who ended up on my left but Sally held onto my hand. So we danced together again.
“You’re really good, Sir William,” she said. “Who would have guessed?”
“You’re not so bad yourself,” I replied. “And you’re here because …”
“My brother thought it might be good for his balance in sports and since I’m probably going to the prom with one of my suitors, I thought I might as well brush up on my dancing, too. I won’t tell any of them, though, that you’ve been teaching me some new moves.”
I admitted that might not go over so well with Kelly Carson or anybody else of his ilk — another of my new words and maybe the smallest. Did I tell you yet that one of my favorite books is the Thesaurus?
With that, we went to some more instruction and Sally and I ended up with other partners. When we broke for punch, I noticed that five or six guys were trying to situate themselves in line so they could pair up with Sally. I thought they might survive if they stayed in a pack.
Wheat and I usually try to stay as far away from each other as possible so we don’t end up as dancing partners. It’s funny that we can get in all sorts of entanglements on the wrestling mat but we don’t want anything to do with each other when it comes to dancing. That would be a little icky, strange as that sounds.
But she wandered over to me after — who else — Bobby Taylor had gotten her punch. “You and your Carpool Love looked pretty good out there,” she said.
I just shook my head. I couldn’t say much. I’m always teasing her about how Bobby is making sure he can get at least one dance with her. He has to work at it because she is pretty popular with the guys, too.
Then Wheat grimaced. “Get away from me if you’re going to eat those cookies,” she added.
Yeah, I was helping myself to the cookies by the punch bowl. Like Wheat, I had to pass on the cookies when I was wrestling 112 behind her. So I moved away but not before I opened my mouth so Wheat could see the chunks of a chocolate chip cookie in my mouth. Just as well that Mrs. Gray didn’t see me do that. She may have called a fortnight of fouls on me — ha, ha, ha.
During the rest of the lesson, I tried to dance with the girls who are shy or who aren’t very coordinated. That’s what Ric said I should do and I think it’s a good idea, too. He said that those are the girls who often grow up and really make something of themselves when they blossom later. But I still kept an eye on Sally just to see how she was doing. Her yellow dress made it easy to keep her in sight.
As my mom would say, she was the Belle of the Ball, even if it was her first lesson.
We have a handful of Kelly Carson-type guys in our class and they all were a little agog about Sally. But on the last dance — girls’ choice — she actually trotted up to me and grabbed my hand. Yikes!
Mrs. Gray was letting all of us do our own version of fast dancing to a cool country song, “She was a Heartthrob on the Dance Floor” by Jon Pardi. At one point, Sally did a circle dance around me like she was rounding me up like livestock. It was pretty great. Mrs. Gray even smiled, probably for the first time in a fortnight, ha, ha. Love that word, too, even thought I would never use it in everyday conversation.
I was thinking this was a pretty cool night. When the dance was over, Sally walked over to her brother to leave. She then looked over her shoulder and called back to me, “Thanks for being my partner, Little Man.”
Pop!
CHAPTER 12
Bobby’s dad took us home and we scurried into the house. It was already 8:30 and both Wheat and I had some homework still to do. We also had our big duel meet the next evening against Mishawaka and we like to be in bed by 9:30, especially before meet nights.
We both have desks in our room but to make them fit, they have to be pushed up against each other. So we face each other when we both sit there, although I have a big ceramic frog on the back of my desk and she has a couple of her wrestling trophies on hers. So we sort of peek around them if we want to ask each other a question.
Since we have the same sophomore courses — and are in the same algebra class — we do help each other out. That’s mostly good but there are a few times when I wouldn’t mind having a little private time with my own thoughts. Don’t get me wrong. Wheat is great to have around and talk to but sometimes a girl is still a girl.
I didn’t really feel like talking about Sally but I knew Wheat would. And so as soon as I opened my algebra book, she said, “I think you might be being used, bro. I just don’t see Sally Guffie being that nice to you without some kind of ulterior motive. I don’t know if it has something to do with Kelly Carson or Laurie Middlebrook or what but I would watch her if I were you.”
“Oh, I will,” I said and I knew she could be right. The evening had been exciting but a little uncomfortable, too. Although I enjoyed most of my time with Sally, I had enough beauty on my mind with Laurie.
“I had one dance with Big Jim,” she continued. “What a klutz. He supposedly wants to work on his footwork. His dad apparently convinced him that it might help him on the offensive line if he can get a scholarship for football to a small college. But the interesting thing is what he said about Sally.”
I was all ears. I waited. She didn’t say anything. I waited some more. Wheat smiled but still didn’t say anything. “Ok, Ok,” I said. “Tell me.”
She paused another couple of seconds before spilling the beans. “Big Jim says that their grandmother really gave it to Sally at Sunday dinner. Told her she had become a spoiled brat — a nasty nellie, whatever that means. Her grandma went on to say that just because she had turned out really pretty that she didn’t have to act like a prima donna.
“According to Big Jim,” Wheat continued, “Sally has always adored her grandma and so the lecture really hit her hard. She started crying right at the table. Her mom tried to come to her rescue but Granny Goodwrench told her to butt out. Sally finally admitted that she could be a little nicer. Big Jim says that’s why they enrolled in the dancing so Sally could work on her manners.
“It was their grandma’s suggestion — or maybe command — and she’s paying for the lessons. She apparently is an old friend of Mrs. Gray’s and that’s how they got in so quickly. Big Jim had to go to even up the boy-girl count just like us. One thing is certain: Their grandma apparently is somebody who says it like it is.”
“Geez,” I said. “Sally told me they were there to work on Jim’s footwork.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be a bad idea, either,” Wheat added. “My toes could attest to that. But the main reason is that Sally needs to be more of a young lady, according to her grandma.”
We weren’t getting much algebra done. So I asked her a question. “You and Big Jim seemed to hit it off pretty good.”
“We were OK,” was all that Wheat said in return.
“Sooo….”
“Well, it you want to know the truth, he hinted at going to the prom with me but I told him that he and I would both probably be in the championship round of the conference meet Saturday evening and that would interfere with it. That seemed to do the trick. Just as well. He’s an OK guy but not my type although he did look half way decent dressed up.”
“You mean Shrek?” I almost shouted.
“He’s not that bad. You know he’s always been very protective of me at wrestling. And to be honest, the starting time of the 112-pound title match would make it a lot easier for me to get to the prom but him at heavyweight would probably make us pretty late. Anyway, it’s not worth even thinking about.”
I tried to digest all that she had said. I never had given it any thought when Laurie had asked me to the prom that I might be tied up with the conference meet. But I wasn’t planning on qualifying for the championship round — too many good 119-pounders in the conference. I was going to be happy not to be pinned in the first round.
“No way Big Jim is getting to the championship round,” I eventually said. “Let him think so but he won’t. He’s barely a .500 wrestler. You could probably get to most of the prom even if you win and Coach lets you head out.”
“I don’t need to go to the prom,” she said.
“But it’s nice you sort of got asked, right?”
“Hey, if you want to count that, then I’ve been asked four times. Your buddy Bobby asked me at dance lessons. Thirsty asked me at practice Friday while I had him in a half-nelson and that Paul guy in my biology class asked. He’s a little creepy but he’s one smart dude and is more than happy to help me understand some of that crazy animal anatomy.”
I was stunned. She had never mentioned any of this to me. “And you didn’t tell me all of that?” I said.
“You didn’t tell me about Laurie Middlebrook, either,” Wheat replied. “And I said no to all of them so there’s not really any news here. I plan on being in the conference championship and rooting our team on to victory after that.”
She was right. I hadn’t told her about Laurie. But I shouldn’t have been surprised that she has been asked multiple times. I guess I don’t always realize — her being my sister and all — that Wheat is really a pretty girl besides being smart and somewhat sweet in her own way.
I didn’t want to think of this too much, though, because I like her as my roommate and close confidante. And I didn’t want a mental picture of her being slobbered over by a bunch of guys who have fewer social skills than I do —which, as you have probably figured out by now, isn’t a whole lot.
I wondered if I ought to mention to Mom about Wheat’s proposals. I know Wheat wouldn’t say anything and Mom is always worried that Wheat is a little too tomboyish. Of course, I bet Ric probably thinks that I’m a little on the sissyish side. I would agree with him. I do lean a little bit that way but the wrestling seems to help me hide some of my timid tendencies.
If I hadn’t been wrestling, no way I would probably stand up to — or fall into — Kelly or chase after the One-Booted Man. Ha, ha. I came up with that one after remembering “The Fugitive” movie with Harrison Ford chasing after a One-Armed Man. Ric thought the name was pretty funny, too.
That’s one of the reasons I love that Mom and I melded into a family with Wheat and Ric. I would probably be a bit of a lost soul without them. I don’t tell Wheat this but she has pulled out a part of my personality that may never have come to the surface if she hadn’t been around. And I sure have met a lot of interesting people because of her and Ric.
I think I wouldn’t even have the nerve to speak to a girl like Laurie Middlebrook if it weren’t for Wheat. To tell you the truth, I’m still pretty afraid of girls. But not as much as I used to be. It’s funny that a girl who beats me up makes me more confident around her type — if Wheat actually has a type. Enough of that for now, OK?
Before we turned off the light after getting in bed, I did say, “Wheat, you may be the only person in history who has been asked out to the same prom by a guy who doesn’t even weigh 100 pounds and one who probably goes about 260.”
“Why don’t you call the Guinness Book of World Records, Spank,” she said with a sarcastic tone. “I’m sure you and Laurie Middlebrook going to the prom together might qualify for some category, too. And who knows, maybe you and her could also be a new telling of an old story — Beauty and the Little Beastie.”
I figured I better back off or it might get nasty. “Night, Wheat,” I said.
“Night, Little Beasty,” she replied as I frowned to myself about another nickname. “And if you tell Mom and Dad that I was asked to the prom by those guys, I’ll stuff you in your pillow case.”
I stayed quiet. She probably could do it.