They all stop to watch me as I walk by. Some of them whisper to one another. The big cows are all envious and they all wish they could be just like me, Marjorie Alice Rush of Pembrooke Street. They’re probably asking themselves why they are so plain and unimaginative and why I’m so vibrant and stylish.
Rita Maloney stops to say hello and ask if I’m going to a party somewhere. You’re dressed up so pretty she says.
Why on earth does she ask such a stupid question?? We’re on our way to school, just like every other day at this exact time. She’s just a stupid girl, Marjorie, ignore her.
Why, no, Rita. It’s a school day. Are you going to do some mud wrestling?
The girls all laugh so hard they’re bent over and some of them have tears coming out of their eyes. Rita is laughing too, though the joke was really on her.
Every day they wait at the corner up the street from my house and then they follow me all the way to school. They know I’m too good for them and they don’t dare walk along with me. The best they can do is walk behind me and follow my lead.
It’s such a burden, Marjorie, being a role model and a leader of all these silly girls. Why, I’ll bet they don’t even know how to get to school without you!
A car full of boys from my school drives by slowly and they are all whistling and making vulgar sounds. I know they all like me but it would be nice if they would grow up. I don’t want them to think I’m like all of the other girls who will just jump in the car and go with them.
Oh, Marjorie, you’ll never find a decent boy in this town. They are all so childish and they don’t have sense enough to know they aren’t good enough for you. No, your Prince will come in time. Just be patient.
Well, I just hold my head up and I don’t even look at them. The girls behind me break into laughter again. They think the boys are funny and cute.
The car comes back and one of the boys asks how the air is up there. I don’t know what he’s talking about. I still don’t look at them. I can feel my cheeks getting hot so they must be turning red.
Oh, they like you all right but you just keep walking. Stupid boys.
This time two cars packed with boys drives by slowly. The same vulgar shouts. School is only just ahead. Two more blocks and I don’t have to listen to it once I’m inside. It’s the same thing every day. I just keep walking and don’t pay them any mind. I don’t hear them. I sing a song to myself to block it out.
Sure, you hear them loud and clear. They love you. Why else would they pay so much attention to you like this? Those laughing girls are so jealous they can’t stand it.
The two cars full of loud boys pass by one last time before we get to school. This time they’re driving faster and one of them throws something at me from the car. It hits me on the side of the face, tiny ice cubes stinging my skin. I’m suddenly wet and cold. I’m covered with orange soda. The girls go crazy with laughter.
Stupid boys. Stupid boys. Stupid boys.
What do I do now?
A story that alternates between the "I" and the "he, she" (or the name of the narrator. Indicating instability. A tricky one!
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