her for her personality, if she had one. Yoo hoo, I love you!
Ruben looked up momentarily and Sonny fled down the long hallway. She peeked into the CRMDclass. It was all broken-cuckoo-clocksville. Carlos slept in the back of the room. Hansy concentrated intently on a heart she had cut out of a piece of red felt. Even though Valentine’s Day was two months away, they started early. That’s how slow they were. The teacher sat at her desk reading a psychology book. Sonny came to D.B.’s class. She had her head lowered over a social studies textbook with a romantic comic book inside of it. The door was open.
“Psssst,” Sonny whispered to get her attention. D.B. was so preoccupied that she did not stir. Sonny tried again, this time a little bit louder. “PSSSST!” D.B. still did not look up but the girl in the first seat of her row did. Sonny pointed to D.B. and the girl turned around and called her. She looked up surprised. The girl pointed to the doorway. Sonny waved.
“What do you want?” D.B. mouthed in an exaggerated way.
Sonny indicated that she should come out. D.B. pointed to the teacher, a heavy-set man with a receding hairline and chalk on the sleeve of his jacket. He looked in her direction several times, but each time Sonny ducked out of sight. She then pointed to her mouth and mimed the act of talking with her hand. D.B. nodded reluctantly. She raised her hand and when the teacher called her, she said, “Can I please have the pass to the ladies’ room, Mr. O’Brien?”
He gave her a piece of cardboard stenciled with the word PASS.
“Okay, what do you want?” D.B. asked when they were several feet from her classroom.
“I just wanted to talk,” Sonny said, looking down at her feet.
“About what?” D.B. demanded.
“Just talk. I’m feeling sort of funny,” she said, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“You mean, you dragged me out of class just to say that?” She stared at Sonny like she was an escaped orangutan from the Bronx Zoo. “What do you mean, funny?”
“Well, you know, uh, Ruben …” Sonny said.
“Yeah?” D.B.’s eyes lit up with sudden interest.
“Have you ever frenched?” she said, biting her lip.
“Of course!” D.B. exclaimed. “A million times. Haven’t you?”
“Yeah … But it doesn’t seem like fun or anything, the guy putting his tongue in and moving it so slimy around like that.”
“You’re shitting me!” D.B. cried. “You really don’t know anything, do you? Listen, why don’t you come over to my house after school and we’ll talk. So you know your twat from your belly button. What do you say?”
“Sure,” Sonny said. “And can we walk to your house together?”
“I just live two blocks away,” D.B. said. “We’ll meet in front of my class at three.” D.B. turned and walked toward her class.
Hey, do you like me? Huh? For my personality?
Sonny watched D.B. until she entered her classroom, hardly believing it. D.B. was the first woman Sonny could talk to, really, about woman sort of things. And she wanted her to come over to her house. Mary and Dot didn’t have any idea about such woman sorts of things. As for her mother, Sonny just
couldn’t
talk to her. Besides, she didn’t probably even know about them. They were really private. She had so much she wanted to talk about that she could hardly wait.
Maybe D.B. even wanted to be her best friend
. Then she could tell her everything that was so personal she’d die if anybody found out.
When Sonny returned to class, Mrs. King couldn’t touch her. Neither could the guys. They were such
infants
. When she accidentally brushed against Lenny’s desk, he wiped the spot off with his sleeve and passed it to Harvey Roth, who made a horrible face and passed it on.
Leprosy is crawling all over Sonny. There goes her fingernail into her ginger ale. There goes her eyeball into your highball. There goes her skin-that’s why she’s so thin
. It was just a song. Who cared anyway? The girls
Ruben looked up momentarily and Sonny fled down the long hallway. She peeked into the CRMDclass. It was all broken-cuckoo-clocksville. Carlos slept in the back of the room. Hansy concentrated intently on a heart she had cut out of a piece of red felt. Even though Valentine’s Day was two months away, they started early. That’s how slow they were. The teacher sat at her desk reading a psychology book. Sonny came to D.B.’s class. She had her head lowered over a social studies textbook with a romantic comic book inside of it. The door was open.
“Psssst,” Sonny whispered to get her attention. D.B. was so preoccupied that she did not stir. Sonny tried again, this time a little bit louder. “PSSSST!” D.B. still did not look up but the girl in the first seat of her row did. Sonny pointed to D.B. and the girl turned around and called her. She looked up surprised. The girl pointed to the doorway. Sonny waved.
“What do you want?” D.B. mouthed in an exaggerated way.
Sonny indicated that she should come out. D.B. pointed to the teacher, a heavy-set man with a receding hairline and chalk on the sleeve of his jacket. He looked in her direction several times, but each time Sonny ducked out of sight. She then pointed to her mouth and mimed the act of talking with her hand. D.B. nodded reluctantly. She raised her hand and when the teacher called her, she said, “Can I please have the pass to the ladies’ room, Mr. O’Brien?”
He gave her a piece of cardboard stenciled with the word PASS.
“Okay, what do you want?” D.B. asked when they were several feet from her classroom.
“I just wanted to talk,” Sonny said, looking down at her feet.
“About what?” D.B. demanded.
“Just talk. I’m feeling sort of funny,” she said, shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“You mean, you dragged me out of class just to say that?” She stared at Sonny like she was an escaped orangutan from the Bronx Zoo. “What do you mean, funny?”
“Well, you know, uh, Ruben …” Sonny said.
“Yeah?” D.B.’s eyes lit up with sudden interest.
“Have you ever frenched?” she said, biting her lip.
“Of course!” D.B. exclaimed. “A million times. Haven’t you?”
“Yeah … But it doesn’t seem like fun or anything, the guy putting his tongue in and moving it so slimy around like that.”
“You’re shitting me!” D.B. cried. “You really don’t know anything, do you? Listen, why don’t you come over to my house after school and we’ll talk. So you know your twat from your belly button. What do you say?”
“Sure,” Sonny said. “And can we walk to your house together?”
“I just live two blocks away,” D.B. said. “We’ll meet in front of my class at three.” D.B. turned and walked toward her class.
Hey, do you like me? Huh? For my personality?
Sonny watched D.B. until she entered her classroom, hardly believing it. D.B. was the first woman Sonny could talk to, really, about woman sort of things. And she wanted her to come over to her house. Mary and Dot didn’t have any idea about such woman sorts of things. As for her mother, Sonny just
couldn’t
talk to her. Besides, she didn’t probably even know about them. They were really private. She had so much she wanted to talk about that she could hardly wait.
Maybe D.B. even wanted to be her best friend
. Then she could tell her everything that was so personal she’d die if anybody found out.
When Sonny returned to class, Mrs. King couldn’t touch her. Neither could the guys. They were such
infants
. When she accidentally brushed against Lenny’s desk, he wiped the spot off with his sleeve and passed it to Harvey Roth, who made a horrible face and passed it on.
Leprosy is crawling all over Sonny. There goes her fingernail into her ginger ale. There goes her eyeball into your highball. There goes her skin-that’s why she’s so thin
. It was just a song. Who cared anyway? The girls
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