Idiot - Laura Clery Page 0,3

most shocking place?” got old quickly. Fortunately, Maggie knew how to take things up a notch.

In sixth grade, we took a trip to Six Flags Great America and stayed at the Holiday Inn. That night we were in the hot tub, splashing each other while sitting across from an older couple who were just trying to enjoy their vacation.

“Can you ladies stop it, please? You’re being disruptive,” the woman said.

“Yeah, Laura,” Maggie said, “stop being disruptive.”

I frowned and shoved her awkwardly, but quieted down. The woman sighed. I looked down at the bubbling water to avoid the old couple’s shaming glaucoma-glare. I saw Maggie roll her eyes.

“Can we go back to the room?” I asked Maggie.

“Nope. I want to get pruney.”

I sighed. A moment of silence and then Maggie smiled at me with this devilish grin. I looked at her, confused. “What?” I whispered. And then . . . I felt it. Something soft and mushy in my hand. I lifted my hand out of the water—and screamed!

It was Maggie’s shit. She had shit in the Jacuzzi. AND THE SHIT WAS IN MY HAND.

I was so fucking shocked that I threw the shit as hard as I could, hopped out of the Jacuzzi, and jumped into the pool. The lady sitting across from me screamed. I may or may not have gotten some shit on her.

To this day I won’t go in a Holiday Inn Jacuzzi. I hope Maggie’s not upset with me for sharing that. Maybe I should change her name. Maddie. Identity concealed! Nice, Laura.

Maggie and I were fucking weird and adventurous and I loved it more than anything. We would striptease for each other to “The Sign” by Ace of Base. (Which really is a top striptease song, I’d say, and definitely still holds up.) We’d give each other half naked massages by candlelight and we’d go to Barnes & Noble and find the Victoria Secret catalogs in the back and tape pictures of our faces inside of them. This, in retrospect, was probably highly disturbing for the next person who opened them up. Someone in the market for Victoria Secret probably didn’t bet on seeing a smiling eleven-year-old’s face taped above some huge tits. But we didn’t care!

We very badly wanted to grow up and be women and know things about our bodies. We were curious. In Downers Grove, not many people were interested in educating prepubescent girls about sex. So it was just me and Maggie against the world, figuring things out for ourselves. Living in a weird, amazing bubble.

At school, Maggie and I had other friends for a while. But as she and I got more and more drawn into our own world, our other friends became convinced we were lesbians and cut us off from hanging out. I guess they thought lesbian meant . . . weird?

But we didn’t care. If they were going to abandon us for being too strange, then I was happy to see them go. Together, it was okay to be different. To be who we were. Maggie became the star of all my horror movies, and fake-stabbing my best friend with a butter knife became my favorite pastime.

Despite living in a comfortable middle-class town, my family never seemed to have any money. We were pretty much always broke. But in spite of all that, I never felt poor. Probably because families hide things well from the youngest child! But also because I felt safe and we always had enough to eat. And if I ever wanted expensive things, I would just steal them. Problem solved!

My parents did a good job of making me feel like money wasn’t an issue. They made it a point for us to have experiences that normal families would have, like going on vacation—even if they were vacations at which most people would turn up their noses. Every year my dad’s whole side of the family would go to The Golden Horse Ranch in Wisconsin. Every year, you guys. I hear some families, like, try to see different parts of the world eventually? Not us!

This ranch was small and completely broken-down. The cabins would have mice in them, and when we’d ask the front desk for help, they would hand us a cat and say “Figure it out.” There were horses and literal barn dances and terrible beige food and tiny cabins that were too hot and always a bit moist.

Which is all to say: it was awesome!

I don’t think there’s anything better than