Thin Ice by Anthea Carson Read Free Book Online

headbanger music.  It was mostly freaks at the quarry—from all over town—hardly any punks.  Of course, we were the only punks in town. Nobody else in town from West High or North knew anything about punk.  We only knew because of Ziggy, who had brought that kind of music into Oshkosh, along with punk clothing.  Krishna said no one had been punk in Oshkosh before Ziggy started listening to it, and then the jocks were known to listen to it from time to time at their keg parties.  Then the Transistors formed their band and played at the parties. 
    After everyone left the car, they stood around complaining and heading for the kegs.  Everywhere there were people talking, cigarettes burning, competing boom boxes blaring.  REO Speedwagon competed in one area with the Rolling Stones in another and Black Sabbath blared from across the water.  Teenagers had come from all over the city, which was odd for a Thursday night.
                  “Krishna?” I said. 
    Gay sat in the front seat after everyone else had left except for Krishna and me.
                  In the backseat, Krishna was having some kind of trouble with a beer bottle.  She was completely drunk, and kept kicking the bottle under the front seat.                “Christ!” she yelled.
                  “What the fuck?” Gay shouted at her.
                  “Ugh!”
                  “What are you doing?” I asked.
                  “God!” Krishna yelled. “Chill!”
                  “You chill.  You’re fucking wasted.” Gay tried to grab the bottle.
    Krishna kept kicking it.
                  “Ow!” Gay shouted, pulling her bruised hand back.
                  “What the fuck is your problem?” Krishna demanded.  She was coming unhinged.  I’d never seen her do this before, but this time she actually became violent and shoved the front seat into Gay’s back.
                  “Uh, excuse me,” Gay shouted back and cuffed her.  And over what?  Nothing!
                  “God,” Krishna yelled, kicking her.  Kicking!  “I can’t wait till I go to camp, and fucking get the fuck away from you!”
    Krishna was going to camp for two weeks in the summer.  School was almost out.  Summer was almost here.  I would be going to California to stay with my aunt for a couple months.
    “Good, go to fucking camp,” said Gay .  She grabbed the beer bottle, climbed out of the car, and walked off. 
    In the distance , I could see Glinda in a crowd of jocks standing under a clump of thick, heavy trees.  I could see her, talking, and laughing her soft laugh that somehow carried above the music salad.  Her hair was cut in another new, strange cut.  Where did she find those cuts?  Walter was the only other person in town whose hair was that stylized. 
    Gay strutted over to them.  
                  “Gay!” they shouted.
                  Krishna started giggling inexplicably in the backseat. 
    “What’s funny?” I asked.
                  “What happened to Glinda’s pants?” she asked. 
                  I looked down.                “Holy shit,” I exclaimed.  The cigarette burn was much bigger than I’d thought.
                  “How did you know these were Glinda’s pants?” I asked.
                  “I don’t know.  They look like her?” she said.  “They sure as hell don’t look like you.”  Krishna lit one of her Marlboro Reds. 
    I wanted to ask, but already knew what she meant.  I knew they didn’t look like anything I would wear.  But they made me look great.                “I can’t believe I did this to them,” I said, shaking my head.
                  “I know, what a blown deal,” she said, and blew out a puff. “Can you blow smoke