I bristled a little at his assumption that I was making up my injury, but I shrugged it off and ruffled his hair. “I promise, as soon as I’m better, I’ll jumpforyou.”
“Pussy,” a foul-mouthed ten-year-old spat, kicking a little dirt in mydirection.
I dropped my gaze to take in the skinny little jerk… another one of my cousin’s kids. What were all the older ones doing home, anyway? Had their parents forgotten it was a school day? Usually it was just the kindergarten crowd hanging during the morning hours. “Shouldn’t you be inschool?”
“Shouldn’t you be changing yourtampon?”
The other kids laughed at his insult. I had to admit it was pretty inventive for one so young, and I rewarded him with a courtesy chuckle… until the others turned onmetoo.
“Yeah,” a kid wearing a Viking helmet piped up. “Shouldn’t you be peeingsittingdown?”
“Shouldn’t you be asking fordirections?”
That zinger came from a little girl wearing bunnypajamas.
“Shouldn’t you be a scaredy-cat?” my niece asked, joining in the roast with the others, although clearly not understanding that the theme of this particular smack down was masculinity shaming. Wait a minute! Wasn’t Posy supposed to be on my side? “You’re a whiny little pussycat.” She completed her diss.Ornot.
I glanced around at all the angry, demanding little faces. Well, hell, this was taking on a decidedlyLord of the Flies-typevibe.
“Okay, fine,” I said, giving in. Taking off my hat, I ran my fingers through my unruly curls before handing the traitor Posy my baseball cap. “Holdthis.”
I ran to a concrete sitting wall and flipped my way over it before jumping several times to clear various obstacles. For my final encore, I scaled the retaining wall and back-flipped my way off. As the kids cheered and nodded their approval, I rubbed my sore ribs. Yes, I was going to pay for this later… but at least I wouldn’t be peeing sitting downtonight.
The attitudetoward me shifted immediately, and I was once again the crown jewel of Perryland, what we liked to call our squalid home turf. Like the celebrity they thought I was, the kids were hanging all over me as I made my way up the driveway to the main house. That was morelikeit.
“Is anyone home?” I asked, receiving a few casual shrugs in response. That would have probably been my reply at theiragetoo.
Next to the house sat an old red pickup truck. At least I thought it was red. Rust had crept over the paint years ago and had mixed with the original color, giving off a moldy feel. The entire right side of the vehicle was caved in as if it had been sideswiped by something monstrous in size, like a cruise ship. Aside from the severe body damage and missing front bumper, the truck had three standard-sized tires and one that looked only slightly larger than a spare. Hanging from the rearview mirror was a pair of black and white dice so faded that they’d taken on apinkishhue.
“Oh, hell no,” I roared. “SHELBY!”
I wound through the obstacles blocking my way to the main house. The landfill had expanded since my last visit. Television sets, toilets, clothes, trash… really anything you could dream up probably existed somewhere in the piles of crap littering the acres of property. Passing the three-legged dog, I gave him a sympathetic pat on his deserving head before storming my way into the main house screamingShelby’sname.
“Good lord, boy. Even I can hear you, and I can’t hear shit,” my great grandma Gigi complained. The old reclining armchair she was sitting in, had over the years, molded to her over-sized body. Pretty much anything she desired could be had from her seated position. Magazines, piled high, littered the ground around her. A side drawer filled with snacks and a small refrigerator were situated just to her left. Across her lap lay one of those grabber arms, which she used to get items out of her reach without ever having to leave the comfort of herchair.
It was as if Gigi were in it for the long haul and had figured out the path of least resistance. When she did move from her chair, she made a giant scene out of it… moaning and grumbling about the aches and pains. Come to think of it, I was starting to sound a lot like her. Of course, if anyone suggested she might benefit from a little exercise, aside from the overly taxing trips to the bathroom, she threatened to eject them from the premises. Since no one who lived here seemed to work a steady job, none could afford to pay for their keep on their own, so everyone just kept their mouths shut about her exceedingly unhealthylifestyle.
“Where is she?” Idemanded.
“Calm the hell down, drama queen, what’s your problem?” Shelby moseyed on in, and it was clear from first glance that she was dressed for success… at least, for her version of success. The plunging open neckline and skintight jeans was no one’s idea of a business casualoutfit.
“Tell me that piece of crap sitting in the driveway is not what I traded mycarfor.”
“It looks worse than itreallyis.”
“Really? Because it looks like a piece of shit that someone threw up, then shit back outagain.”
“Once you throw it up, can you really shit it out again?” Shelby mocked me as she adjusted her bra by actually picking up her breasts and relocating them. “Besides, haven’t you ever heard the saying, ‘Don’t judge a book by itscover’?”
“There are clear exceptions to that rule, and one of them is sitting out in the driveway. There’s no way that thing is making it through thedesert.”
“Rocky drove it allthetime.”
“Oh, well, that makes me feel so much better, seeing as he’s sitting in the slammer for grandtheftauto.”
“He wasframed.”
“No, he wasn’t. He’d been gainfully employed at the chop shop for two years. It’s a miracle he wasn’t caught before the high-speedchase.”
