Teen Angel by Sonia Pilcer Read Free Book Online

out. “I get it.”
    Sonny groaned. But to herself. Even if Dot wasn’t Speedy Gonzales when it came to brain power, she was okay in her book. Not as someone you could
really
talk to like D.B. about mature, private things. But then she wasn’t mean and nasty like the Gooch. Or catty like Mary Kelly. Anything you told her traveled faster than the speed of a flying fart. Crystal was hardly ever around, and Hansy and Marilyn were solid as a hard stool. They didn’t exactly keep things moving.
    As long as they walked on the west side of Broadway, everything was okay. Even if it said FUCK YOU and PUSSY everywhere and the buildings were pissed in, the lobbies had stained-glass windows, mirror-covered walls, and marble staircases. There were old synagogues and the Heights Jewish Center, which had been transformed into a Church of Jehovah’s Witness by a simple plastering over of a star of David. And that stood empty now. On Shabbus, religious Jews still strolled down the Drive but it was no longer safe to walk alone. Yet the silver expanse of the George Washington Bridge stood unchanged, as did Palisades Amusement Park with its Cyclone across the Hudson.
    At 176th Street, they crossed Broadway. This was the most frightening part of their walk. It was the country Sonny fled fromin nightmares, never knowing when the arm from the hallway of a transient hotel would pull her in. Bars flashed orange neon. LUCKY SEVEN. ROY’S BAR & GRILL. CLUB ROYALE. Dark-skinned men with scars across their cheeks and gold teeth that glistened made sucking, tongue-clicking sounds of sexual violation. Old women dropped their groceries and wept. Young girls, about Sonny’s age, made fists and punched their own pregnant stomachs while boys shot broken glass like marbles. Everywhere there was the odor of whiskey, urine, and uncollected garbage. This is where Sonny and Dot began to run. Down Amsterdam Avenue, St. Nicholas, until they stopped at a red light on Audubon Avenue. They could see Humboldt with its gothic spires, the highest one displaying an American flag. And the Teen Angels, who stood in their regular spot across the street from the school. Sonny unzipped her jacket.
    “Hey, Dot,” she said, lighting up a Marlboro, courtesy of her father. “Did you ever hear of the Foo bird?”
    “What’s that?” Dot started to cross the street.
    “Hold on a see,” Sonny said, patting her beehive as she looked coolly ahead of her. “You see, this guy was on a safari in Africa and the Foo bird shit on his head. Well, he was about to wipe it but the natives warned him that it was bad luck. So he didn’t wipe the shit. Anyway, he was taking a shower and he washed the Foo bird’s shit off his head …” She paused. “And he died.”
    “You’re kidding!” Dot exclaimed. “That’s awful.”
    “The moral of this story is,” Sonny paused again, dramatically, “if the Foo shits, wear it.”
    “Huh?”
    “If the shoe fits, if the Foo shits … get it?”
    “I guess so,” Dot said doubtfully. “You mean, he didn’t really die?”
    “Anyway …” They crossed the street to where the Teen Angels stood leaning against a white Corvette.

5
    Mary Kelly and the Gooch passed a Salem between their gloved hands. Hansy was whispering something in Marilyn’s ear which made her giggle. D.B. stood against the wall, watching the guys play Chinese handball.
    “How’s it going?” Sonny asked, looking at the guys, especially Ruben Ortega, out of the corner of her eye. None of them, of course, would be so uncool as to look in her direction except for Steve, who didn’t count.
    “Not too bad,” Mary said, giving Sonny the Teen Angel handshake.
    “Hi, everybody!” Dot said.
    “Could be worse,” the Gooch muttered as she exhaled smoke through her nose.
    Sonny inhaled her cigarette and tried to make the smoke come out of her nose too but it went down into her throat and made her cough.
    “Tho?” Mary said. “What’s happening with you