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Show Boy! Han Junior, she says, Oh quick, cut the cord. I make a scissors motion in the air and hand her the rags. She holds them close, ignoring the fumes and the oil stains, muttering into the ball. When Luke comes home, he and I leave her and Han Jr. to go back out on patrol. By then my mother is calling me for dinner. Unless it is one of the nights during the summer when we are trying to break Guinness World Records; then I am allowed out past dusk. I bite my nails, so I will never be competitive with Murari Mohan Aditya whose record-holding, tarantula-colored nails curl in spirals not daggers as one might think and clearly the tallest and shortest humans are outside our reach. But the teeter totter record seems possible, even though we have no idea if a teeter totter record exists. That summer we leave our houses after dinner, while the sun is still high, and set up camp near the teeter totters at the park. On my tiny green table, I arrange my snacks, some water, my Little Twin Stars paper holder, a camera, my Casio watch, and the picture Mark Hamill sent me when I joined his fan club with the words "May Your Aim Be True" printed in script in the bottom right hand corner. Stacy sets up a similar collection on her red table, though she owns far more Hello Kitty and Little Twin Star items than I do, so her table is cluttered with pencil boxes, erasers, coin purses, stickers, and barrettes. Then we begin to teeter totter, taking care to start my stop watch, which we check repeatedly for the next hour. Stacy and I are the same age, the oldest in our families, and we both moved to 133 |
