often you’d think Nathan would be better at it. He’d been so evasive when I’d asked him about Vic and Stacy: what they were like, where they lived, where we wouldsleep, how he’d met them, if they were excited to meet us. He’d give me a shrug and look at the ground, making me feel like an overeager kid for wanting so much information. Beneath the garish lights of the Waffle House, country music wheezing from the jukebox by the door, it all became clear: Nathan didn’t know Vic and Stacy any more than we did. We’d all come down to Little Rock on a lie and had no place to spend the night.
Suddenly the night went from awesome to totally awesome. I could have been mad at Nathan, but I was so high on us being together and feeling like I’d finally lodged myself into their gang. And we’d gotten ourselves to Little Rock! I didn’t care if we spent the night at a famous punk’s house or at a twenty-four-hour chain diner so long as we were all together.
We left some money on the table and moved on to Vino’s, a club where a band was playing. The Delta 72 had a record on Kill Rock Stars, Bikini Kill’s label in Olympia, Washington. After the show, we went back to the Waffle House again looking for rancid coffee and sweet tea to keep everyone awake for the drive back. When we pulled into the parking lot a gang of violent jocks started messing with us. We were used to being mercilessly made fun of in public, because it was impossible for us to blend in.
The jocks in the parking lot surrounded us as we sat in Kathy’s dumpy little ride. They called us
Fat Farm
. They smacked at the roof of the car with their hands.
Get out of the car, we will kick your ass!
they invited us.
Jeri just sat there, staring out the window. He sat in the front—he always got shotgun because of his height—beside Kathy, and the jocks’ faces smeared themselves across the windshield. They smacked their palms on the passenger window, like they were hitting Jeri in the head. If Jeri had gotten out of the car and shown the jocks what they were dealing with, the thugs would have freaked out, but Jeri was a pacifist and a lady. We just huddled inside Kathy’s car until they got bored with us and took off. We sat in the silence, everything more quiet without fists pounding on the roof.We just sat there in the parking lot, listening to music, trying to collect ourselves and get a plan together for the trip home.
The pay phone in the parking lot reminded me I was supposed to call my mother.
Goddamn it!
I didn’t want her to worry, but I didn’t know what to tell her, and I didn’t want to be a freak-bashing target if those jocks were still around. Kathy rolled the car up close to the booth and I made a collect call to Mom and Tom’s.
Let me say hello to Vic and Stacy
, she said. I hemmed and hawed. Finally, I blurted out,
There is no Vic and Stacy, Mom. Nathan lied
. It didn’t occur to me to lie myself, since Mom never cared what I was doing or not doing.
So, you’re not anywhere, then?
she asked.
No, I’m in the Waffle House parking lot almost getting beat up by jocks. We’re going to drink a bunch of coffee and drive home, and I’ll sleep in Jeri’s waterbed, Vicky
.
I’m coming to pick you up
, she said. It was so weird when Mom took motherly interest in my well-being. We barely even saw each other—recently she’d resorted to communicating with me via a textbook I’d left at her house. She’d slipped a note into the pages of my science book:
I love you. I know you don’t think I do, but I do
. It made me sad.
Mom came all the way to Little Rock to drive me to my sister’s house.
I wanted to sleep in Vicky
, I said to Jeri, as I hugged him goodbye, wrapping my arms around him. I wanted to end the night with a slumber party, talking in the dark about deep things, about love and God and our families, about music and clothes and life outside of Arkansas, and about how good it was that Nathan was such a liar because if he
Suddenly the night went from awesome to totally awesome. I could have been mad at Nathan, but I was so high on us being together and feeling like I’d finally lodged myself into their gang. And we’d gotten ourselves to Little Rock! I didn’t care if we spent the night at a famous punk’s house or at a twenty-four-hour chain diner so long as we were all together.
We left some money on the table and moved on to Vino’s, a club where a band was playing. The Delta 72 had a record on Kill Rock Stars, Bikini Kill’s label in Olympia, Washington. After the show, we went back to the Waffle House again looking for rancid coffee and sweet tea to keep everyone awake for the drive back. When we pulled into the parking lot a gang of violent jocks started messing with us. We were used to being mercilessly made fun of in public, because it was impossible for us to blend in.
The jocks in the parking lot surrounded us as we sat in Kathy’s dumpy little ride. They called us
Fat Farm
. They smacked at the roof of the car with their hands.
Get out of the car, we will kick your ass!
they invited us.
Jeri just sat there, staring out the window. He sat in the front—he always got shotgun because of his height—beside Kathy, and the jocks’ faces smeared themselves across the windshield. They smacked their palms on the passenger window, like they were hitting Jeri in the head. If Jeri had gotten out of the car and shown the jocks what they were dealing with, the thugs would have freaked out, but Jeri was a pacifist and a lady. We just huddled inside Kathy’s car until they got bored with us and took off. We sat in the silence, everything more quiet without fists pounding on the roof.We just sat there in the parking lot, listening to music, trying to collect ourselves and get a plan together for the trip home.
The pay phone in the parking lot reminded me I was supposed to call my mother.
Goddamn it!
I didn’t want her to worry, but I didn’t know what to tell her, and I didn’t want to be a freak-bashing target if those jocks were still around. Kathy rolled the car up close to the booth and I made a collect call to Mom and Tom’s.
Let me say hello to Vic and Stacy
, she said. I hemmed and hawed. Finally, I blurted out,
There is no Vic and Stacy, Mom. Nathan lied
. It didn’t occur to me to lie myself, since Mom never cared what I was doing or not doing.
So, you’re not anywhere, then?
she asked.
No, I’m in the Waffle House parking lot almost getting beat up by jocks. We’re going to drink a bunch of coffee and drive home, and I’ll sleep in Jeri’s waterbed, Vicky
.
I’m coming to pick you up
, she said. It was so weird when Mom took motherly interest in my well-being. We barely even saw each other—recently she’d resorted to communicating with me via a textbook I’d left at her house. She’d slipped a note into the pages of my science book:
I love you. I know you don’t think I do, but I do
. It made me sad.
Mom came all the way to Little Rock to drive me to my sister’s house.
I wanted to sleep in Vicky
, I said to Jeri, as I hugged him goodbye, wrapping my arms around him. I wanted to end the night with a slumber party, talking in the dark about deep things, about love and God and our families, about music and clothes and life outside of Arkansas, and about how good it was that Nathan was such a liar because if he
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