Never Slow Dance with a Zombie - By E. Van Lowe Page 0,6
going out with you sounds like a good idea, too. I just need a little time to think about it You've got to admire boys. They can pack a lot into one word.
I was beside myself with the possibility. Sybil said she'd come over after dinner and we'd call him about the "homework."
Later, at home, I again pulled out my high school manifesto and reread my lofty goals: I will be popular; I will go to parties; I will have a boyfriend.
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Suddenly those things didn't seem so unattainable. Dirk and I would go to the carnival and I'd laugh at his jokes and he'd tell me how cute my eyes are when they're crinkled with laughter. Then I'd tell him how fond I am of basketball, which isn't a total lie because I have a real appreciation for boys in shorts. And he'll say how fond he is of girls with meat on their bones, which only makes sense since I can't imagine any boy wanting to go out with a girl just to watch her dine on a grape. And everyone at school will say what a cute couple we are, and we'll be invited to all the in parties, but we'll only attend a few, because we'll want to spend most of our free time alone together.
Perfect, I thought. Having a boyfriend was the first step. My high school manifesto was about to become a reality.
At dinner that night I daydreamed about what it would be like having Dirk over for dinner, sitting with my family, playing footsie with me under the table, talking, laughing, sharing his thoughts of the day. Unfortunately, there's a person who shows up at our dinner table every night who'd make that dining experience a total nightmare--my ten-year-old brother, Theo.
I'm sure there are lots of girls who enjoy their younger sibling's youthful antics. I do not happen to be one of them.
1 don't like chicken!" Theo whined as he dumped most of the mashed potatoes from the serving bowl onto his plate.
"Oh, really," I said. "Then why are there two chicken wings on your plate? If 7 didn't like chicken I'd leave that extra wing for somebody who might appreciate it."
"I like wings," he snarled as he inhaled the first. They're not really chicken. Wings are fun food."
"I like wings, too," I said. "I'm sure we all like wings, don't we?" I threw a look at my parents for confirmation. They looked away.
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If Dirk were here he'd bock me up,
I turned back to Theo. "Unfortunately chickens are only born with two wings,"I said as if talking to a three-year-old. My cheeks reddened as my patience slipped away. Even thoughts of Dirk couldn't mask the fact my little brother was an idiot.
"I know they have two wings," Theo said, a goofy smirk playing on his lips. He waved the second wing under my nose like a maestro teasing the air with his baton. Then he devoured it, slurping the meat off the bone like a human vacuum cleaner. "All gone," he sang as he hoisted the meatless bone above his head as if it were a trophy.
I shot my mother an exasperated glance.
"You two be nice," is all she said. But what she meant was, You know we always let your little creep of a brother get away with everything; suck it up and grab a thigh!
I looked over at my father, who again avoided my gaze. He scooped tiny spoonfuls of food onto his plate, pretending life with my brother was as normal as the sunrise. A part of me felt sorry for my parents. They had to know that having my brother was the biggest mistake of their lives. If only they'd stopped with me. I'm not saying I'm perfect. But at least I'm not a total embarrassment. I know, some of you are thinking, How embarrassing could it be? Obviously you don't have a little brother whose greatest gift is taking a mouthful of PB& J and squirting it out his left nostril while humming the theme to Skunk Fu!. .. I'm not kidding.
To deal with their misery my parents pretend our lives are normal. But I'm sure if I ever listened at their bedroom door in the middle of the night, I'd hear them crying their eyes out over their humongous mistake. By the way, I'd never listen at my parents' bedroom door. That's disgusting.