Harry Sue by Sue Stauffacher

Author:Sue Stauffacher [Stauffacher, Sue]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-53063-9
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2005-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

“Harry Sue's got boobs! Would ya look at those?”

My new figure was causing quite a stir as we lined up for class the next morning.

“Yeah, right,” Nick Nederman said. “That's a boob job. You can't grow those things overnight.”

Waterhead. Like he knew what he was talking about.

Ms. Lanier looked me over. She knew there was more to my hooters than the hard round bumps that met her eye. But the morning bell rang and there was milk money to collect and attendance to take and a whole list of other boring teacher-type things to attend to.

I just smiled and waited for the thoughts to connect in Jolly Roger's small brain that, come recess time, he should grab hold of my bra strap and give it a good yank.

I'll tell you one thing, with all the itching and the adjusting, I have no idea whatsoever why girls make such a fuss over growing these things.

Meanwhile, Violet was mooning over me like I was her new boyfriend.

“Ma says we're gonna have you over for dinner, Harry Sue, for a thank-you.” She leaned in close to me and whispered, “You like chicken-fried steak? What you got stuffed in there, anyway? I put a little Kleenex in mine sometimes, but that's not really cheating. Rosejane says they got padded ones with little foam things called ‘cookies’ down at Sears in the Marshfield Mall, but Ma says I might as well wait until the real ones show up, else why do people always want to invite trouble?”

My, she rattled on, bumpin' her gums about every imaginable thing. I realized then I didn't have to worry so much about punishing myself for saving her. Having to listen to Violet go on about brassieres and foam cookies might just be worse than lockdown.

We were inside by now, sitting at our desks. Ms. Lanier was up front working out a math problem. As if the numbers weren't confusing enough, now she was adding letters to the mix.

“If x equals six,” she said.

My question was this: If x equals six, why don't people just say so and be done with it? And while we're at it, what worldly purpose does a girl like Violet Chump serve? She couldn't KO a baby bunny, nor did she have the sense of a chicken-fried steak. I mean, the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz had more brains than her with just straw stuffed in a burlap sack.

I sighed, thinking about the long road ahead of me. I can tell you right now, it wasn't made of yellow brick. Not since I got me another misfit for my crew, somebody I'd have to protect from Jolly Roger, somebody whose tears I'd be mopping up with the worn-out hem of my skirt.

That's the kind of reward I get when I stick my neck out.

Still and all, I thought, trying to look at the bright side, I was partial to edible food of any kind and chicken-fried steak, just the idea of it, was making my mouth water.

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