Original Fic: Life On Mars, part the second
I remember how once I got to Junior High, it felt like you had to measure everyone in terms of how cute they were, as in for instance, “he’s too cute to go out with her,” or “he could totally go out with anyone he wants to, he’s so cute.” And half of everybody’s time was taken up with watching boys, and talking about how cute they were - Or weren’t, as the case may be. Later on, I figured out how much of a crock it was. Because once you got to High School, it all sort of fell apart. Fat girls were going out with the cutest boys at the school, and football players who were so ugly they should have been paid to keep their helmets on were going out with everyone from the Homecoming Court and so forth. And all the girls I used to hear arguing about who was cuter, Michael J. Fox or Scott Baio, were giggling about David Bowie and Mick Jagger, and they’re like how old? And they’re not even that cute either.
But back in Seventh Grade, it seemed like cute was all people thought about. And David was sort of medium-cute. He was still a little chubby, like I said, but he had nice soft-looking brown hair. And he had this way of looking out kind of shyly from under his eyelashes, so the first thing you noticed was his blue, blue eyes, that I thought was really adorable.
And what about me? Well I wasn’t all that fat, because my mother had me on this really strict diet, where if I even so much as looked at anything besides skim milk and vegetables, it was like a major crime, and I practically had to crucify myself to make up for it. So my clothes fit pretty well, and my mom was finally letting me wear jeans to school like all the other girls did. I don’t know how cute I was, really. - I don’t know how cute I am now. People say I have a cute smile, but you can’t always smile. What am I supposed to do, go around with my teeth bared all the time like I’m going to bite someone?
Anyway, there didn’t seem to be that many girls noticing David -- And there didn’t seem to be that many guys noticing me either. And maybe my mom had been thinking about that, because when I brought David home for the first time, she got this happy look on her face for a moment. Then she said I wasn’t allowed to have my bedroom door closed while he was over. I don’t know what she thought we were going to do in there that we couldn’t have done at school better. I walked past kids making out in the hallways all the time, not just kissing, but practically down each others’ throats about it. No one stopped them, no one ever seemed to care. Whereas if I’d tried doing anything like that at home, my mom would have freaked out.
What David did do when we got to my room though, was to zero in at once on the bag from my last visit to House of Fabrics, that I had in the closet: “Do you sew?” he asked.
Well I said “yeah,” because technically it was true. I’d had three years of 4-H Sewing, and I’d only rebelled that last year, because matching plaids on the dress I made in Sixth Grade turned out to be so horrible. But I hadn’t gone to the store to get stuff for sewing with, so technically it was a lie as well. I’d only gone there because the fabrics were so beautiful, and sometimes I went just to look around and see what was there.
“Can I look?” David grabbed the bag without waiting for permission. He tumbled the contents out on my bedspread: There were the psychedelic scraps from my mom’s rag bag (and the scissors I’d used as recently as Sixth Grade, to cut doll clothes out of them), and the real rabbit-skin I bought at Tandy Leather, and the half-yard remnant of silver-colored Quiana that was my favorite piece of fabric ever.
David spotted a big piece of red velvet and pulled it out. “Omigod, this is perfect!” he said. “Jenny, can I have it?”
“Okay…”
It turned out what he wanted it for, was because he was doing some ballet from The Nutcracker for a recital. - There’s this grody little place called Mrs. Robbin’s Dance Studio in town, everyone that takes dance lessons goes there. My mom made me take ballet there for about a year, until she realized that it was a lost cause to ever make me graceful. David was the only boy I ever heard of who went there though, and it turned out Mrs. Robbins had been giving him private lessons since he was 10, when the mothers of the girls in his class started to complain about him. - Anyway, I naturally would have said yes, because he was my friend and all, but David was so nice about it, and he made out like I was doing him such a big favor, that I ended up saying I’d make his Nutcracker-vest for him as well.
And that turned out really cool, because we took the bus to House of Fabrics together that Saturday, and he bought the thread and buttons and lining fabric and stuff for his vest. And then he bought us both double cones from Thrifty Drug Store afterward. I got my usual pineapple sherbet and mint-chocolate chip, and he got something new that I’d never seen before, called chocolate malted crunch. And he let me have a taste, then hit me on the arm because he said I’d taken all the malted-milk balls, and we laughed together like crazy like we always did when we got together. It was the best day of my life, and it totally made up for the three whole days of Thanksgiving Break that I had to use, to make his vest for him.
But back in Seventh Grade, it seemed like cute was all people thought about. And David was sort of medium-cute. He was still a little chubby, like I said, but he had nice soft-looking brown hair. And he had this way of looking out kind of shyly from under his eyelashes, so the first thing you noticed was his blue, blue eyes, that I thought was really adorable.
And what about me? Well I wasn’t all that fat, because my mother had me on this really strict diet, where if I even so much as looked at anything besides skim milk and vegetables, it was like a major crime, and I practically had to crucify myself to make up for it. So my clothes fit pretty well, and my mom was finally letting me wear jeans to school like all the other girls did. I don’t know how cute I was, really. - I don’t know how cute I am now. People say I have a cute smile, but you can’t always smile. What am I supposed to do, go around with my teeth bared all the time like I’m going to bite someone?
Anyway, there didn’t seem to be that many girls noticing David -- And there didn’t seem to be that many guys noticing me either. And maybe my mom had been thinking about that, because when I brought David home for the first time, she got this happy look on her face for a moment. Then she said I wasn’t allowed to have my bedroom door closed while he was over. I don’t know what she thought we were going to do in there that we couldn’t have done at school better. I walked past kids making out in the hallways all the time, not just kissing, but practically down each others’ throats about it. No one stopped them, no one ever seemed to care. Whereas if I’d tried doing anything like that at home, my mom would have freaked out.
What David did do when we got to my room though, was to zero in at once on the bag from my last visit to House of Fabrics, that I had in the closet: “Do you sew?” he asked.
Well I said “yeah,” because technically it was true. I’d had three years of 4-H Sewing, and I’d only rebelled that last year, because matching plaids on the dress I made in Sixth Grade turned out to be so horrible. But I hadn’t gone to the store to get stuff for sewing with, so technically it was a lie as well. I’d only gone there because the fabrics were so beautiful, and sometimes I went just to look around and see what was there.
“Can I look?” David grabbed the bag without waiting for permission. He tumbled the contents out on my bedspread: There were the psychedelic scraps from my mom’s rag bag (and the scissors I’d used as recently as Sixth Grade, to cut doll clothes out of them), and the real rabbit-skin I bought at Tandy Leather, and the half-yard remnant of silver-colored Quiana that was my favorite piece of fabric ever.
David spotted a big piece of red velvet and pulled it out. “Omigod, this is perfect!” he said. “Jenny, can I have it?”
“Okay…”
It turned out what he wanted it for, was because he was doing some ballet from The Nutcracker for a recital. - There’s this grody little place called Mrs. Robbin’s Dance Studio in town, everyone that takes dance lessons goes there. My mom made me take ballet there for about a year, until she realized that it was a lost cause to ever make me graceful. David was the only boy I ever heard of who went there though, and it turned out Mrs. Robbins had been giving him private lessons since he was 10, when the mothers of the girls in his class started to complain about him. - Anyway, I naturally would have said yes, because he was my friend and all, but David was so nice about it, and he made out like I was doing him such a big favor, that I ended up saying I’d make his Nutcracker-vest for him as well.
And that turned out really cool, because we took the bus to House of Fabrics together that Saturday, and he bought the thread and buttons and lining fabric and stuff for his vest. And then he bought us both double cones from Thrifty Drug Store afterward. I got my usual pineapple sherbet and mint-chocolate chip, and he got something new that I’d never seen before, called chocolate malted crunch. And he let me have a taste, then hit me on the arm because he said I’d taken all the malted-milk balls, and we laughed together like crazy like we always did when we got together. It was the best day of my life, and it totally made up for the three whole days of Thanksgiving Break that I had to use, to make his vest for him.