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Show here I was at her birthday party. I stayed indoors while the party happened outside. The living room was dark, dark woods and dark upholstery. I sat near the buffet, near a dish that held candy, and watched the other children take turns on the monkey bars. When it was time for cake and presents, I stood by as the second Lori opened the first Lori's present. As it turned out, she also liked horses, so the gift was a hit. But I grew angry that my carefully chosen present had been so easily lost. Toward the end of the party, when everyone had gone back outside and I was once again alone in the air conditioned living room, I slunk over to the buffet, backing up against the cold wood and feigning nonchalance. I then moved my hands behind my back and reached for a piece of candy, wanting, I guess, something back from the Lori who had taken my horse. You will get some candy at the end of the party, the second Lori's mother said from the kitchen, stopping me in my tracks and forcing me to drop the piece back in the bowl. Again I have to wonder what she thought about this girl who came uninvited, remained inside the entire time, and then tried to steal candy. When the party ended, the second Lori's mom handed me a goody sack filled with candy and I ran to meet my mother who waited for me at the curb. The fact that I stole a second time when the first time filled me with shame tells me how much I longed to be cool, to be accepted, to be like Stacy, the glittering center. Because I wasn't. There was the whole inability to remember if I liked rock or disco, a 139 |
