Everyone should have a hobby. Some people collect stamps or coins. Kat collects paintball bruises. I collect boys. I figure somewhere Mr. Right is walking around, but how do I find him if I don’t search? Besides, the others provide amusement.
I knocked on Kat’s door and she opened it. She’s about my height, but the resemblance ends there. She’s got wild dirty blond hair and freckles. She’s maybe twenty pounds heavier than me, and most of it is muscle. She’s punched out a football player before. She looked like even more of a mess than usual. She wore a pair of guy’s camo pants with some kind of pink spatters on them and her shirt was probably older than her.
“I want you to teach me to play chess,” I said.
“You want me to do what?!” She sounded as though I’d told her to wear jeans to a formal dinner.
“I want you to teach me how to play chess so that I can join the chess club,” I repeated.
“No.”
“I can pay.”
“No.”
“Katya,” her mom called from the kitchen. “Invite your guest in.” I was surprised. Calling Kat ‘Katya’ is like calling a T Rex ‘Tim.’ Kat grudgingly invited me up to her room.
“Why won’t you teach me?” I asked as we headed up the stairs. She was almost jogging, while I maintained a steady walk.
“You don’t give a counterfeit penny about the game,” Kat growled. “You just want Jamie.” Very perceptive of her.
“What’s wrong with that? He’s hot, smart, president of the chess club, single.” Why was Kat getting so worked up about it? Unless she had something on the side while Cody was away.
“I know what you do to boys. You lure them in like a spider, get what you can, then toss them in the trash. Some people have disposable toothbrushes, you have disposable toyboys,” Kat replied. I shrugged it off. She’s just jealous. Besides, the guys always have the option of turning me down, but few do. It’s their own fault what happens to them. “Besides, you and your hatchet-girl friends treat me like an atheist in a Muslim camp at school and all of a sudden you expect me to cram chess knowledge into your lighter-than-air head,” she added.
“It’s none of your business what I want to do with Jamie.” I said defensively, before adding in my sweetest, most innocent tone, “Unless, of course, you’re cheating on your Army boy.”
“Jamie is my friend, and I try to take care of my friends. It’s called loyalty and you might want to look it up in the dictionary,” Kat said in a voice as sharp as my razor. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. My ‘hatchet girls’ are mostly trying to pick up guys that don’t make my grade, since every guy in the high school tries to hang out with me. They’d stab me in the back in a heartbeat if I let them. They aren’t my friends, either. They’re just trying to curry favor, to get into my confidence so they can stab me in the back.
Kat’s room is hard to describe. For starters, think of a guy’s room. A guy whose favorite color is camouflage. Then imagine that the walls are covered in cartoon-style pictures of guys fighting, except for the sketches at the end of the bed of Cody and her.
Kat and Cody met shortly after Kat punched out Tom, the football team’s star quarterback, on a date (Kat says that Tom wanted to go farther than she wanted to, and when Tom insisted, she ‘resisted’ rather strongly). Rumor says that she met Cody at a paintball tournament. Cody is two years older than her, and on a scale of 1 to 10, he’s about a 6, maybe higher if you like skinny guys. Personally, I prefer more beefy guys, but whatever. He was a junior and she was a freshman.
They went to the prom together a month later, and stayed together for his senior year, except for a few spats. He enlisted in the army after he graduated and shipped out to one of those Middle Eastern countries where we have troops. He and Kat still have a steady e-realtionship going on. Rumors say that he got shot or blown up or something, but I don’t pay much attention to those rumors.
“How is Cody, by the way?” I asked, trying to switch to a less controversial topic.
“The IED hurt him bad. They shipped him to a hospital in Germany, and they’re still not sure if there’s any--” her voice quivered a little “—permanent damage.”
Now I was on good ground. I talked to her like I would talk to one of my ‘hatchet girls’ (come to think of it, I like the sound of that phrase).
“I hope he’s okay. Just in case, you should start shopping around for a new boyfriend. I think that thing with Tom’s blown over by now. One thing I like about you, Kat, is that you have standards. You wouldn’t settle for damaged goods.” I wondered if anyone on the football team would go out with her. Football players are all testosterone, no brains.
For some reason, that upset her. “I’m standing by Cody, no matter what.” She reached onto my bookshelf for a thick book. A dictionary? Why does she have a dictionary in her room? “It’s part of that loyalty thing. You really should look the word up,” she said, using her sharp voice again.
“Your decision.” I shrugged. “Just saying you could do better than a cripple.” She could. Heck, if she cleaned up, straightened her hair, tanned the freckles out, she might even look good.
“As you say, it’s my decision, so I’ll make it myself, thank you,” Kat said in a voice as cold as ice. I saw that this topic was getting too controversial and I saw an opportunity to switch topics again.
“And Jamie is my affair. What I feel for Jamie is the real thing. Like you and Cody.” It was almost true, but not quite. I wanted Jamie, but I doubted that our relationship would be that long.
“That’s what you said about Luke. And Tanner. John, Evan, Brian, Tom. And all the others,” Kat pointed out. Ouch. Score one for the tomboy.
Kat sighed. “How about we make a deal? I’ll teach you to play, but if you hurt Jamie, I swear I will come to your house, in the middle of the night, with a paintball gun and cover your face with these.” She lifted her pants leg so I could see her bruises that were shaped like little targets. “By the way, I hear the orange paint has chemicals that cause acne.”
I knocked on Kat’s door and she opened it. She’s about my height, but the resemblance ends there. She’s got wild dirty blond hair and freckles. She’s maybe twenty pounds heavier than me, and most of it is muscle. She’s punched out a football player before. She looked like even more of a mess than usual. She wore a pair of guy’s camo pants with some kind of pink spatters on them and her shirt was probably older than her.
“I want you to teach me to play chess,” I said.
“You want me to do what?!” She sounded as though I’d told her to wear jeans to a formal dinner.
“I want you to teach me how to play chess so that I can join the chess club,” I repeated.
“No.”
“I can pay.”
“No.”
“Katya,” her mom called from the kitchen. “Invite your guest in.” I was surprised. Calling Kat ‘Katya’ is like calling a T Rex ‘Tim.’ Kat grudgingly invited me up to her room.
“Why won’t you teach me?” I asked as we headed up the stairs. She was almost jogging, while I maintained a steady walk.
“You don’t give a counterfeit penny about the game,” Kat growled. “You just want Jamie.” Very perceptive of her.
“What’s wrong with that? He’s hot, smart, president of the chess club, single.” Why was Kat getting so worked up about it? Unless she had something on the side while Cody was away.
“I know what you do to boys. You lure them in like a spider, get what you can, then toss them in the trash. Some people have disposable toothbrushes, you have disposable toyboys,” Kat replied. I shrugged it off. She’s just jealous. Besides, the guys always have the option of turning me down, but few do. It’s their own fault what happens to them. “Besides, you and your hatchet-girl friends treat me like an atheist in a Muslim camp at school and all of a sudden you expect me to cram chess knowledge into your lighter-than-air head,” she added.
“It’s none of your business what I want to do with Jamie.” I said defensively, before adding in my sweetest, most innocent tone, “Unless, of course, you’re cheating on your Army boy.”
“Jamie is my friend, and I try to take care of my friends. It’s called loyalty and you might want to look it up in the dictionary,” Kat said in a voice as sharp as my razor. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. My ‘hatchet girls’ are mostly trying to pick up guys that don’t make my grade, since every guy in the high school tries to hang out with me. They’d stab me in the back in a heartbeat if I let them. They aren’t my friends, either. They’re just trying to curry favor, to get into my confidence so they can stab me in the back.
Kat’s room is hard to describe. For starters, think of a guy’s room. A guy whose favorite color is camouflage. Then imagine that the walls are covered in cartoon-style pictures of guys fighting, except for the sketches at the end of the bed of Cody and her.
Kat and Cody met shortly after Kat punched out Tom, the football team’s star quarterback, on a date (Kat says that Tom wanted to go farther than she wanted to, and when Tom insisted, she ‘resisted’ rather strongly). Rumor says that she met Cody at a paintball tournament. Cody is two years older than her, and on a scale of 1 to 10, he’s about a 6, maybe higher if you like skinny guys. Personally, I prefer more beefy guys, but whatever. He was a junior and she was a freshman.
They went to the prom together a month later, and stayed together for his senior year, except for a few spats. He enlisted in the army after he graduated and shipped out to one of those Middle Eastern countries where we have troops. He and Kat still have a steady e-realtionship going on. Rumors say that he got shot or blown up or something, but I don’t pay much attention to those rumors.
“How is Cody, by the way?” I asked, trying to switch to a less controversial topic.
“The IED hurt him bad. They shipped him to a hospital in Germany, and they’re still not sure if there’s any--” her voice quivered a little “—permanent damage.”
Now I was on good ground. I talked to her like I would talk to one of my ‘hatchet girls’ (come to think of it, I like the sound of that phrase).
“I hope he’s okay. Just in case, you should start shopping around for a new boyfriend. I think that thing with Tom’s blown over by now. One thing I like about you, Kat, is that you have standards. You wouldn’t settle for damaged goods.” I wondered if anyone on the football team would go out with her. Football players are all testosterone, no brains.
For some reason, that upset her. “I’m standing by Cody, no matter what.” She reached onto my bookshelf for a thick book. A dictionary? Why does she have a dictionary in her room? “It’s part of that loyalty thing. You really should look the word up,” she said, using her sharp voice again.
“Your decision.” I shrugged. “Just saying you could do better than a cripple.” She could. Heck, if she cleaned up, straightened her hair, tanned the freckles out, she might even look good.
“As you say, it’s my decision, so I’ll make it myself, thank you,” Kat said in a voice as cold as ice. I saw that this topic was getting too controversial and I saw an opportunity to switch topics again.
“And Jamie is my affair. What I feel for Jamie is the real thing. Like you and Cody.” It was almost true, but not quite. I wanted Jamie, but I doubted that our relationship would be that long.
“That’s what you said about Luke. And Tanner. John, Evan, Brian, Tom. And all the others,” Kat pointed out. Ouch. Score one for the tomboy.
Kat sighed. “How about we make a deal? I’ll teach you to play, but if you hurt Jamie, I swear I will come to your house, in the middle of the night, with a paintball gun and cover your face with these.” She lifted her pants leg so I could see her bruises that were shaped like little targets. “By the way, I hear the orange paint has chemicals that cause acne.”
Post a Comment
Be the first to comment on this article!