A Storyby Holly Wilson
It’s Labor Day, and it’s our Friends of Friends Barbecue. I sit on the front porch waiting for people to show, which no one will because all we got is veggie dogs and a sooty yard, and all the neighborhood knows that much, they’re not dumb. But Evelyn says, Wait out there for folks, you never know. But I know. People don’t go outside here, no one’s going to just walk by and see the wimpy sign Dad made. Evelyn and Dad think it’s like old-fashioned times when people might sidewalk-stroll for fun. This is stupid, and instead I want to go inside to see what happens with Jeanie, our new Resident Friend.
Jeanie came yesterday afternoon via dirt bike. She vroomed up all crazy haired, no helmet, no stuff, parked off behind the carport like anyone might steal her dirt bike if they saw it. She wouldn’t eat any supper, just went straight up to her room, where she started right away to curse and scratch up the walls, crying in quick little rips. I sat outside her room last night, slid cheese squares under the door, which she snatched up with tattooed fingers (snakes chasing spiders in the direction of her chewed-up nails).