Call Me Jane by Anthea Carson

Author:Anthea Carson [Carson, Anthea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
Publisher: Amazon KDP
Published: 2012-11-22T00:00:00+00:00

SIXTEENSo because Gay had basketball practice that night, she was practically the only one not there. I didn’t know where we were going, Krishna just said, “Turn left here,” and “Go right now, right!” And I screeched my tires till I pulled up at Walter Owens’ house. You could hear the music from outside the house. We went downstairs to Walter’s basement. Everyone was there.

Those who weren’t sitting on the couch were on the floor gathered around a small black-and-white TV.

The movie hadn’t started yet, but in those days, if a movie came on TV that you wanted to see, you better jump on it. You weren’t going to have another chance.

Ziggy was the most excited about it, but everyone was.

“Ow!” I screamed over at Dave, who sat to my right. He was the drummer for the band. He always wore that black-leather jacket with chains all over it. His hair was spiked, he had very black hair, and it didn’t really look like he had to put any kind of gel in it. Dave was short, and had high cheekbones like an Indian.

“What’s wrong?” he screamed back.

“My ears hurt!”

“Oh yeah, I have to get mine waxed every month!”

“What?”

“I have to get mine waxed once a month!”

“What does that mean?”

“I have to have the wax removed! By a doctor!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. Right then there was a break between songs. So he was screaming this and everyone looked over at him.

“How do you get your hair to stand up like that?” I said.

“What?”

“Your hair? How do you get it to do that?”

“Egg whites!”

Yep, he was punk. Anyone who would put egg whites in their hair was punk.

“Doesn’t it seem like we just passed this?” Dave was to my right. He passed me a beer, and a joint.

I passed it to my left. Ziggy was sitting there in his green parachute suit. Where was Paul? I looked around. Wait a minute. No Lucy, no Paul! That’s who else was missing.

“It’s ten, turn that stereo off!” Ziggy went over and turned on Walter’s TV.

Someone else tried to sit next to me, and Ziggy butted them out of the way. He practically sat on them.

“Where’s Lucy,” I yelled.

“Lucy?” someone answered. “I don’t know. She’s probably with Paul.”

“No,” someone said, “Paul’s not with her tonight, I don’t think.”

“Where is Paul?” It was Walt who asked this. Thank God someone asked. I froze, straining to hear the answer.

“Paul?” Dave shrugged, passing me the joint again, tapping my knee so I’d snap out of my stupor and grab it. “Isn’t he coming over?”

“No.” Tom Hughes said this. He was the bass player for the band. When pressed as to where he was, he managed to successfully avoid the question with long cigarette drags, a look of confusion about where his beer was, and finally an announcement to the crowd that it looked like the movie was starting. Even more lights were turned off, which I didn’t think was possible. Ziggy scooted

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