to her.â
She doesnât have a comeback for that, either. We stand there for a while, until itâs time for me to leave. Surprisingly, the silence between us isnât as uncomfortable as I would have expected.
Â
25
MOIRA
DAY 76: APRIL 10
I stand in front of the mirror in my bathroom and pull my shirt tight around my waist and hips, squinting my eyes to try to see what Boone was talking about. âReal women,â he said.
Iâd have a nice waist if it wasnât for an extra roll or two, but my hips are enormous. Sometimes I wear loose shirts to conceal the matching humongosity of my boobs, but those shirts hang straight down in front, hiding my waist.
Sighing, I let my arms drop back to my sides and turn away from the mirror. No matter what I do, Iâm always going to end up looking like the Michelin Man.
Â
26
AGNES
DAY 75: APRIL 11
I hold up a big pair of wool trousers. Theyâre menâs pants, but rose colored. I canât imagine who would have worn them. Still, the fabric is so nice. It seems like nobody uses this kind of fine gabardine anymore. âIâm thinking of trying to incorporate these into my dress,â I say. âFor the trim, maybe?â
âI wouldnât,â Moira says, biting off the end of a thread. âItâs a cool idea. But itâll shrink in the wash like a son of a ⦠gun and throw the whole outfit out of whack.â
âYeah, youâre probably right. I could boil it first, though.â
âI guess. But is it really worth your time?â
I donât have an answer for this. How am I supposed to know what is and isnât worth my time? âOoh, look!â I say.
âWhat?â
I pull a scarf from the pile of clothes Mrs. Deene dumped on the table at the start of lunch. (âOld stuff from my closet,â she told us. âDo with it whatever you want.â) Itâs a pale, bluish gray chiffon wisp of a thing, hardly more substantial than air.
âHey, I like that,â Moira says, reaching out her hand.
I jerk the scarf away and waggle a finger at her. âAh, ah, ah. Finders keepers.â
âOkay, just let me check out the rolled edges, then.â
I hand it over.
âHa!â Moira cackles. âItâs mine now. Bwahahahahahaha!â
âTraitor!â
âYes, but Iâm a traitor with a pretty new scarf.â Moira wraps it around her neck. Itâs not very long, so it really only wraps once. Itâs so soft, though. Softer than the kinds of things she normally wears.
âWow,â I tell her. âThat looks really pretty on you.â
Moira unwinds it and frowns. âNot my color.â
âWhat are you talking about? Itâs perfect. Sets off your eyes.â
âNah.â She hands it back.
âMine!â I cry, victorious. âI used reverse psychology on you, and it worked!â
âScoundrel,â Moira says.
âIndeed.â
âThis isnât over, you know.â
I make a show of snuggling the scarf close to my heart, and Moira growls. Then she smiles to let me know sheâs not serious. She gets up, collects our lunch trash, and walks over to the waste basket on her way toward the door. âIâll be right back,â she says. âI have to pee.â She draws out the word pee in a singsongy falsetto voice to let me know itâs an emergency. Her head is turned to the side when she says it, and she almost walks right smack into Boone, whoâs standing in the doorway of the home ec room with his hands in his pockets.
âHey,â Moira says. Her neck turns pink. We all know Boone heard her, but his face doesnât give anything away.
âSo, my truckâs broke down,â he tells us.
âBummer.â
âYeah. The real bummer is that I need to finish serving my yard work sentence today.â He looks at me when he says it. âWeaverâs going to fry my ass if I
William T. Vollmann
Jeanne Glidewell
Ben Mattlin
Thomas Hoobler
J. California Cooper
Pamela Ann
Mark Goodwin
Lynn Shurr
Brett Battles
Vin Stephens