Revoltingly Young by C.D. Payne Read Free Book Online Page B

by Stoney arriving bright and early to grill me on these latest developments. Somehow she had heard, although I informed no one except Grandma and my employers. Just try having a secret in this town.
    “ Why would Uma invite you to Mary Glasgow’s dumb party?” demanded Stoney.
    “ Why not? Maybe she likes me.”
    “ You wish. No, it’s got to be something else. Maybe they intend to humiliate you for trying to pass as black.”
    “ That’s Carlyle. I’m only doing Toby for the bucks.”
    “ I fear the worst. Did you ever see the movie ‘Carrie’?”
    “ Stoney! Uma’s not like that. Besides, I’m not going to the party as Toby.”
    “ You’re not? Does your girlfriend know that? As I recall she invited Toby not Noel.”
    “ And how, may I ask, do you know that?”
    “ I have my sources. Are you going as an elf?”
    “ Certainly not.”
    “ It’s a Christmas party, you dork.”
    “ I know that. I thought I’d wear a red shirt and my green corduroy pants.”
    “ You’ll look like an idiot.”
    “ Stoney, did you come over here just to undermine my confidence and make me feel bad?”
    “ Sure, Noel. What else are friends for?”
    1:17 p.m. Carlyle’s transformation to an urban minority youth has not gone down well with his foster parents. They’ve scheduled an emergency appointment for him on Monday with the county juvenile psychologist. Carlyle has met with this chick (Dr. Quentina Freep) many times in the past, and regards her as “kinda sexy,” but “nosy as hell.” At least she’s black, so Carlyle expects a more sympathetic hearing than last time when he just a “white punk” setting the county ablaze.
    Carlyle loves being black, but doesn’t appreciate all the scrutiny he’s now receiving on the street from “honky assholes.” Toby pointed out that’s a fact of life in a county that’s so lily white. It’s too bad Carlyle didn’t aspire to be Hispanic. We have lots of those, and he’d fit right in (assuming he spoke Spanish, didn’t twitch, and was generally less strange).
    6:17 p.m. Too nervous to eat any dinner. I expect there will be snacks at the party. I’ve been listening to Grandma’s Christmas CDs to get in the mood and calm my nerves. Mel Torme and Tony Bennett were OK, but the Carpenters’ holiday album made me feel a bit suicidal. I wonder if it’s just me or does Karen Carpenter’s voice provoke extreme anxiety in everyone?
    7:15 p.m. Time to go. I will now leave my childhood behind and commence Life with Uma.
     
    SUNDAY, July 10 – I slept until 1:30 in the afternoon. Not a record, but up there even for me. No leakage. After a hard workout, my kidneys were taking the night off. Very hot day. Took a shower and turned up the swamp cooler. Now roaring like a 747 that just sucked in a goose. Had to fix my own lunch as Grandma was out. No phone messages, no interesting e-mail.
    Details of last night’s date? Oh all right, if you insist.
    Being car-less and license-less, I rode my bike to Uma’s. Since I’ve been making a study of her life, I knew where she lived and knew it was just a few blocks from Mary Glasgow’s. I ditched my bike in some shrubbery and rang the doorbell. An older Italian-looking lady opened the door. Not fat, thank God. Introduced herself as Uma’s aunt Rosa. Seemed to know who I was, and did not call police to have me ejected. Made small talk in posh foyer, then Uma showed up. Dressed most provocatively in silver ice-skating costume. Leotard-like top and very short ruffled skirt. Lovely slim legs encased in matching iridescent tights. Hair pinned up and festooned with tinsel. Sparkly be-jeweled Christmas tree broach fastened above left breast. Bright green eye shadow and red lipstick that coordinated nicely with my apparel. No actual ice skates, of course, just silver ballet slippers that softly caressed each lovely toe. She was like the best Christmas morning you could imagine, multiplied a million times. Somehow she even smelled like