Boy in a Band (A Morgan Mallory story) Read Free Page A

my best feat ures is my eyes. They are blue, surrounded by thick lashes, and I get complements on them all the time. I also have nice lips, kissable, my older cousin tells me. My boobs are still pretty small and I have narrow hips. My body looks a lot like the new model Twiggy. My mom says I’m a beauty, my grandmother says I look like Brooke Shields. I don’t believe either of them.
    “When are you going to do it?” Gayle finally asked with her mouth full.
    “Do what?” I asked.
    I had lost my train of thought.
    “Smoke pot?” she said with a bit of disgust.
    She had never made it anything but clear she didn’t like Keri much. “Too full of herself” Gayle said. They knew each other because we shared the same bus stop, but Gayle wouldn’t talk to her.
    “I’m meeting her on the golf course by the d rainage tunnel tomorrow morning,” I said.
    The drainage tunnel was large enough to walk into , and it sat halfway between Keri’s house and the bus stop. We’d smoked cigarettes there together more than once.
    “You’re smoking pot before school ? Are you nuts?” she exclaimed, looking at me dead on.
    “I’ll just try a little . Keri says it’s no big deal.”
    “You’re crazy ,” she said, positioning herself on the counter to eat her sandwich.
    “Yeah, so …” I said, taking a bite of mine.
     
    This year at school, it seems like a lot of kids are getting into alcohol, drugs, and the opposite sex. Or maybe everyone’s just talking about it more. Gayle and I drink now and again, as well as smoke cigarettes on occasion. We sneak small amounts of liquor from our parents' liquor cabinets and put the combination in a washed-out mayonnaise jar. We only take little bits of each kind so they don’t notice. Once we have enough, we go to the creek and mix it with Coke. It’s pretty nasty stuff, but we can get a buzz. My mom and dad smoke, so getting cigarettes is easy.
    At school, Gayle and I hang out in different groups. She's athletic and on the swim team; I sort of hang out with a mixed group of popular and not so popular. The real popular kids at school hang together and generally ignore everyone else. Talk about stuck-up. Keri’s in that group. I hadn't noticed the cliques until we got to junior high. We never had much division in our neighborhood when we hung out with each other. We could act stupid and no one cared, and it never got back to school. Now I try to be nice to everyone, but it’s hard sometimes.
     
                  “Where’s Keri getting the pot from, her brother?” Gayle asked.
    “I’m sure.”
    We all knew he dealt it.
    “Morgan, you doing this so you can hang with Keri and her friends?” she asked, not looking at me.
    “No,” I answered, laughing. “I don’t think just 'cause I smoke pot with her, I’ve made my way to popular.”
    She finished her sandwich and hopped off the counter.
    “She seeing anyone?” Gayle asked.
    “She’s been talking about a guy named Brett; he’s a junior. I don’t know him. Not sure if they are dating or not, but she definitely likes him.”
    “Think she’s gone all the way?”
    “I don’t know,” I answered, surprised she would ask.
    “You two talk.”
    “We talk in sewing, sewing, Gayle. Like, ‘you like my pattern, how about ripping out this seam for the third time’. We laugh 'cause we are both so bad. Neither one of us will ever be Suzy Homemaker, that’s for sure. I get a few bits and pieces of gossip now and then. No best-friends-spill-your-guts kind of talk. But to answer your question, it wouldn’t surprise me.”
     
    I met Keri on the golf course next to the tunnel, early before the bus. We ducked inside the tunnel and shared a joint. The weather was getting warmer and it was close to the end of the school year and I was feeling adventurous. It also had to do with fitting in, I wanted the popular kids she hung out with to think I could be part of them, do what they were doing.
    “Inhale it like a