math and civics (and who, in a recent poll conducted by a private group at Austin High in order to subvert school spirit and to amuse themselves, had been voted Most Likely to Choke on a Large Dick), had seen them twice now, and told Livia that she intended to become not just Ye Moppe Heddsâ most zealous groupie but Burt Moppettâs personalaide-de-camp and concubine. In contrast to Livia, the richer Brendaâs crush, the more proactive Brenda became.
Livia, with uncharacteristically little compunction, began to realize that the social dynamic at work might allow her to exploit her friend, Burt-wise. Livia began tutoring Brenda more and more. For free. Livia was smart enoughâpossibly the smartest person in the whole schoolâthat she could have tutored anybody in anything, for money. But the potential payoffâBurtâwas worth some free lessons on checks and balances and the volume of a sphere.
âAnything he wants, Livie,â Brenda had said one afternoon in the school cafeteria while they observed Burt, who was napping across four cafeteria chairs a few tables over. âAnything. Iâll get it. Iâll do it.â
A nearby group of gangly junior-varsity basketball players was practicing trajectories on Burt with balls of compressed hamburger bun. Since Burt, when planning his nap, had apparently pushed in his four chairs first and then gained them by crawling under the table, he was almost completely bunkered and practically inaccessible to bun wads. On top of the lunch tables a small bunch of bananas, a pile of weathered schoolbooks, and a couple of sleeveless 45s waited for him to wake.
âI wish theyâd leave him alone,â said Brenda, trying to peel open a half-pint carton of chocolate milk. âHe rehearses and composes all night and heâs sleepy.â
âThatâs the wrong side,â said Livia. âOpen the carton on the side with the arrows. Okay, now, back to question number six: the quadratic formula is an example this type ofââ
âCome hear them with me Tuesday, Liv. At Wolfordâs. You know, he wrote a song about me, called âBrenda,â and heâs going to sing it for the first time. It might even be on the record. You knew that International Artists Records wants to maybe sign him?â
âNo fooling?â
âBut when you hear him sing and play electric guitar, and see how groovy he is, donât you fall for him, Livia Durant, because heâs mine. Youâre allowed to be a frantic groupie, though. You wonât be able to help it, anyway.â
Brenda had delaminated both gables of the tiny carton, but a tougher sub-integument kept the carton firmly sealed and the milk from Brenda.
âHe looks pretty goofy,â said Livia, working to convince Brenda of her own indifference regarding Burt. To add to this charade, Livia yawned andtook the chocolate milk carton away from Brenda to give it a try herself. âAnd heâs got those holes in his face.â
âThey look like big dimples when heâs onstage in the dark,â said Brenda, going through her purse for something. âCome with me. Youâll see.â
Brenda took the carton back and tried to stab it with a bobby pin.
The ballplayers meanwhile had discovered that a bun wad carefully aimed and thrown hard, with a low, flat trajectory, could possibly travel under the table and peg Burt in the temple, but no one had yet succeeded, even though Bo Fettle, a mean, eczematic country boy whose eyes were cyclopially close together, had come very close.
âHow do you get in?â said Livia. âWeâre not old enough.â
âQuit that, Bo, you jackass!â shouted Brenda.
Bo skyhooked a hamburger patty, which slapped meatily on the linoleum behind Livia.
âI can get us in,â said Brenda. âThrough the back where they take the trash out. I know the fry cook. I wonât tell you how.â
Livia
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