Rats Saw God by Rob Thomas Read Free Book Online Page B

about the word “conformist” like she was getting paid for each usage.
    Virginia Cole: Like Zipper, Virginia joined GOD hoping it would serve as an “anticlub”—a club for social misfits and badge-flashing losers. Saw everything as “us versus them,” the haves versus the have-nots. Of course, when your house borders the fifth fairway of the Clear Lake Country Club golf course, as hers did, feigning populism doesn’t get you far.
    Holly Cooper: One of three seniors in the group, Holly was the editor of the Grace Gazette, the school’s newspaper. She was also in the running for valedictorian, but needed to beat out fellow GOD member and debate partner, Samantha Ellis.
    Samantha Ellis: Though I never saw the two of them in action, I’ve heard they dismantled opponents in such ruthless fashion that they often broke into finals without having to win a match: rival debate teams saw Ellis/Cooper as their draw and simply scratched. Samantha, along with Dub, represented the active feminist segment of GOD. Male members learned quickly to call our female members “women” lest we be called “boy” in withering tones.
    Lynnette Sirls: Mistook us for the art club, but gamely stuck with GOD through the first semester despite never quite grasping the notion of dadaistic expression. We lost her to the cute shortstop of the JV baseball team, but not before Lynnette completed, at the coaxing of Doug, a papier-mâché Rabbit in Punchbowl which we installed in the Cabaret Voltaire display case.
    Veg: Ben Kempler (aka Veg) refused to eat meat strictly on moralistic grounds. Some said, though I never witnessed this, that he apologized to vegetables before downing them.Before his conversion, Veg had been a chicken-fried-steak-a-day man and had the spare tire that often accompanies such a diet. By the time I met him, he could have been sharing clothes with Ghandi. Veg split his free time between GOD and the Houston chapter of Greenpeace.
    Bill Whiteside: Bill was the Renaissance man of GOD. He had disassembled his pickup’s engine and put it back together, for fun. His forte was physics, but he hadn’t limited his knowledge to the sciences. Bill played guitar, was an assistant editor of Buried Treasure, the Grace literary magazine, and had the lead in the school play.
    Matt Whiteside: As a rule, my interest in nonmain-stream sexuality runs no deeper than your standard state trooper’s, but I always found it hard not to stare at Matt Whiteside, a Chippendale-without-portfolio who was quite possibly the best-looking guy in school. He wasn’t, however, the Mr. Everything his brother was. He was smart, but in Doug’s and my opinion, he wasted too much of his energy worrying about grades. By the end of the year Doug was calling him “Ivy,” as in “Ivy-League bound.” I think Matt liked the nickname, though I’m quite certain Doug hadn’t meant it as a compliment.
    Trey Collier: Our one athlete, Mike Collier was the designated gunner on the varsity basketball team. “Trey” stemmed from his marksmanship beyond the nineteen-foot, nine-inch, three-point arc. Trey hadn’t joined GOD as any form of antiestablishment protest. Au contraire, the boy dated a Buccaneer Babe, listened to Bon Jovi, and drove a Camaro. Trey was, in a sense, the only “pure” member ofGOD. He joined because he was fascinated with dadaistic art. No one needed to explain the work of Duchamp to him. Trey took art three periods a day if you include the period he was Mr. Harley’s aide.
    While he may have been disgruntled, Doug wasn’t pouting. He put himself in charge of bureaucratic concerns—applying for a float permit, attending the drawing of parade order, picking up the list of rules, supplying the thirty-dollar registration fee. Fifty-dollar prizes would be awarded in three categories: grand champion, most spirited, and most original.
    We had no