catches a bullet in a bar fight.”
Like many female athletes, the girls shared a genuine dislike for cheerleaders. The painful truth was, cheerleaders seemed to have all the fun, while the players sweated through countless hours of grueling practice. They believed the little cuties with soft, pink skin and long, blonde hair represented the worst kind of girls. In moments of angst, Christina would whisper to Jessica, “Cheerleaders suck.”
The lone exception to Christina’s cheerleader rule was Heather Daniels. How could she ever forget their first meeting? Heather had told the story so many times, she could repeat it verbatim.
* * *
Right after “Amazon Girl” came to school, she seemed to be having a hard time fitting in. Towering over the other kids, they teased her unmercifully. I couldn’t help but notice a certain sadness in her eyes. It was the day before Thanksgiving break. I was talking to my friends in the hall, and I saw some boys stick something on her back. It was a big paper sign:
AMAZONS SUCK
GREEN WEENIES
The boys snickered and recruited others to fall in as they trailed behind. I ran up and grabbed the new girl by the arm. I peeled the sign off and handed it to her. Amazon turned beet-red.
Cupping my hand over her ear, I whispered, “Let’s scare the shit out of these wimps.” As I turned to face the boys, I yelled, “Which one of you big strong men want to be first to get your ass kicked. . .by a girl?”
I grabbed the nearest boy with two hands full of hair and yanked his head down, bending him over like a jackknife. Amazon backed off and leveraged all her strength to punt him like a football. The lad went flying across the hall with a look of horror, squealing at the top of his lungs. The rest of the boys panicked and scattered like a covey of quail. Everyone broke into cheers, and we laughed our asses off.
I told her, “You know they call you ‘Amazon?’ What the hell is your name anyway?”
“ Christina Matthews.”
“ Listen, those guys are little shits. C’mon, I’ll walk you to the bus.”
* * *
Heather came from a very wealthy family but showed no signs of being a typical rich snob. Her dad owned three banks in town and a lot of Seattle real estate. Her mother was a prominent attorney for Boeing. Even at age thirteen, Heather was the living clone of a “Barbie doll.” She was gorgeous, perfectly proportioned with long, blonde hair. Mature for her age, she already had the body of an adult. With deep blue eyes, she was by far the best looking girl in school.
By the time they were seniors, Heather, Jessica and Christina epitomized a trio of camaraderie, and they did everything together. On her seventeenth birthday, Heather’s dad gave her a brand new Jeep Wrangler. Since it had a standard transmission, Christina had to teach her how to shift gears. Heather named the jeep “Hot Tamale” and referred to herself, Jessica and Christina as the “Three Amigos.” The Three Amigos cruising in the Hot Tamale soon became an icon at Lewis and Clark High.
From the view of the boys who drooled over her, Heather was the ultimate “sweet thing.” She was known for a great singing voice and hung with local rock bands. While Christina and Jessica hardly dated at all, Heather went out with lots of guys and shared her most intimate feelings. She was a walking encyclopedia of carnal knowledge and gladly tutored her friends in the top-secret curriculum of sex-ed.
On the night of their senior prom, Christina and Jessica refused to stay at home. They simply dressed up in fancy gowns and went together. This was a special night for Heather too. She had a date with the lead singer of a local band, Billy Walton. They had been dating for months, and she decided it was about time to find out what real sex was all about. The next day she described every detail to her friends who giggled, all ears.
“ Weird,”
Like many female athletes, the girls shared a genuine dislike for cheerleaders. The painful truth was, cheerleaders seemed to have all the fun, while the players sweated through countless hours of grueling practice. They believed the little cuties with soft, pink skin and long, blonde hair represented the worst kind of girls. In moments of angst, Christina would whisper to Jessica, “Cheerleaders suck.”
The lone exception to Christina’s cheerleader rule was Heather Daniels. How could she ever forget their first meeting? Heather had told the story so many times, she could repeat it verbatim.
* * *
Right after “Amazon Girl” came to school, she seemed to be having a hard time fitting in. Towering over the other kids, they teased her unmercifully. I couldn’t help but notice a certain sadness in her eyes. It was the day before Thanksgiving break. I was talking to my friends in the hall, and I saw some boys stick something on her back. It was a big paper sign:
AMAZONS SUCK
GREEN WEENIES
The boys snickered and recruited others to fall in as they trailed behind. I ran up and grabbed the new girl by the arm. I peeled the sign off and handed it to her. Amazon turned beet-red.
Cupping my hand over her ear, I whispered, “Let’s scare the shit out of these wimps.” As I turned to face the boys, I yelled, “Which one of you big strong men want to be first to get your ass kicked. . .by a girl?”
I grabbed the nearest boy with two hands full of hair and yanked his head down, bending him over like a jackknife. Amazon backed off and leveraged all her strength to punt him like a football. The lad went flying across the hall with a look of horror, squealing at the top of his lungs. The rest of the boys panicked and scattered like a covey of quail. Everyone broke into cheers, and we laughed our asses off.
I told her, “You know they call you ‘Amazon?’ What the hell is your name anyway?”
“ Christina Matthews.”
“ Listen, those guys are little shits. C’mon, I’ll walk you to the bus.”
* * *
Heather came from a very wealthy family but showed no signs of being a typical rich snob. Her dad owned three banks in town and a lot of Seattle real estate. Her mother was a prominent attorney for Boeing. Even at age thirteen, Heather was the living clone of a “Barbie doll.” She was gorgeous, perfectly proportioned with long, blonde hair. Mature for her age, she already had the body of an adult. With deep blue eyes, she was by far the best looking girl in school.
By the time they were seniors, Heather, Jessica and Christina epitomized a trio of camaraderie, and they did everything together. On her seventeenth birthday, Heather’s dad gave her a brand new Jeep Wrangler. Since it had a standard transmission, Christina had to teach her how to shift gears. Heather named the jeep “Hot Tamale” and referred to herself, Jessica and Christina as the “Three Amigos.” The Three Amigos cruising in the Hot Tamale soon became an icon at Lewis and Clark High.
From the view of the boys who drooled over her, Heather was the ultimate “sweet thing.” She was known for a great singing voice and hung with local rock bands. While Christina and Jessica hardly dated at all, Heather went out with lots of guys and shared her most intimate feelings. She was a walking encyclopedia of carnal knowledge and gladly tutored her friends in the top-secret curriculum of sex-ed.
On the night of their senior prom, Christina and Jessica refused to stay at home. They simply dressed up in fancy gowns and went together. This was a special night for Heather too. She had a date with the lead singer of a local band, Billy Walton. They had been dating for months, and she decided it was about time to find out what real sex was all about. The next day she described every detail to her friends who giggled, all ears.
“ Weird,”
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