she's hot
Do not underestimate the volume capability of nine thirteen-year-old girls. Nor the angst potential. One sits on the back of my couch pulling her purple tank top down to cover where her pants fail to come up over her crack. She has worn holes in the tank, though no one is behind her and no one can see. Another one apologizes for her present, apologizes for her wrapping paper. A third has written a card commenting on the lameness of her card. Three of the gifts have the word, "hot" printed on them. My favorite is the tee-shirt printed, "I'm the hotter friend". She will surely never wear this in public.
The girl in front of me is so thin, I can see her shoulder blades through her bright yellow tee. She's got a fuscia belt cinched around her waste, and her bony arms crossed in front of her. She's curled over her own lap, laughing nervously. So much nervous laughter in one room makes the dog whine. She paces, concerned that one of them won't make it through the night.
My other daughter is spending the night with her friend C, who is currently on house arrest because she's attempted suicide. They are having tea. They are trying to understand how to be human and happy at the same time. Happy enough, anyway. I want to call her and make sure she's OK. I wish she had texting on the phone her father bought her. Yan calls me from across the room, but I can't hear her over the girls. That's what her father calls us: the girls.
The girl in front of me is so thin, I can see her shoulder blades through her bright yellow tee. She's got a fuscia belt cinched around her waste, and her bony arms crossed in front of her. She's curled over her own lap, laughing nervously. So much nervous laughter in one room makes the dog whine. She paces, concerned that one of them won't make it through the night.
My other daughter is spending the night with her friend C, who is currently on house arrest because she's attempted suicide. They are having tea. They are trying to understand how to be human and happy at the same time. Happy enough, anyway. I want to call her and make sure she's OK. I wish she had texting on the phone her father bought her. Yan calls me from across the room, but I can't hear her over the girls. That's what her father calls us: the girls.