That One About Us

That One About Us (Pt. 3)

So anyway, I waited until Drew fell asleep against his window and then I reached over and slammed him really hard in the balls.  And of course then he started crying just tears and stomping his feet and slapping the seat in front of him.  I laughed so hard even though I was technically also crying, but then Drew pulled it together and said, “That counted as touching, Anus,” and the game started all over again.

By the time we got to the hotel, I had a big time bruise, and the next morning when we were getting ready for the funeral it looked even worse.  My dress didn’t have any sleeves and of course Dad wanted to know what’d happened.  So, I told him, which is technically tattling, but instead of playing deaf, Dad made the really angry face where he puts his top and bottom teeth right on top of each other, and chased Drew all around the hotel.  I didn’t see it because I locked myself in the bathroom, but Ellie went into the hallway to watch, and she said that when Dad caught Drew, he held him down and slapped him once really hard on the forehead.  Ellie also said that Dad farted and made Drew smell it, which at first I didn’t believe because, for starters, I was pretty sure that Drew and Ellie and me were the only three people in the world to know about Fart Fights, but also Dad was a grown-up, and at the time I didn’t think that adults could fart.  I mean, I was only five or six, so I still thought that grown-ups were born big and boring.  I didn’t get that they were just us with time added on.

Anyway, like I said, I didn’t believe Ellie.  But then she swore on Mom, which meant a lot back then, and I wasn’t so sure.  I tattled every day for, like, weeks after that to try and see if Dad’d do it again, but the minute we got home from the funeral, he went back to being deaf.

I didn’t even know that you could check where people’d gone on the internet.  Or, I guess I did know, but I didn’t know Dad knew.  Turns out he’s like, this total computer genius, which sucks balls because I was at sites like lustylibrary.com and sensualstories.net.  And not only does my own Dad know, but now I’m grounded because of it, and the parental controls for my sign-in name are insane.  I can’t go anywhere except boring news sites and nickelodeon.com. 

It’s not like I was reading the stories to learn how to do it.  Sometimes I think about what it’d be like to freeze time and take a boy’s clothes off, but I’m not a slut or something.  I just think erotic literature is way better than what they tell us at school.  Plus it’s really creative.  Way more creative than My Side of the Mountain, which we had to read this year in homeroom.

The school thinks no one finds out about it until sixth grade, so every Wednesday we have to listen to Ms. K talk about Judy—this plastic mannequin whose chest is sliced open so you can see the reproductive stuff.  Ms. K is always talking about “penises” and “vaginas.”  Everybody hates it.  Online they never call them that, even though those are the parts they’re always talking about. My favorite words for boy’s parts are Purple Python, Gusher (which is technically for a girl’s thing, but sometimes they use it for boy’s), Artistic Cauliflower (that’s from a Finnish site, and I only like it as a joke) and Dick (which is a normal word).  But my favorite is Schlong.

I don’t like most of the online words for girl’s privates, probably because I’m not a lesbian (I don’t even like sports that much, and one time, Dad made me cut my hair short, and it looked terrible).  But yeah, stuff like “Cookie” and “Cooter” and “Beaver” are gross.  The British sites call it a Cunny, which is like Cunt, which I don’t like.  Once, in this story called “Victoria Goes to Camp”, they called it a “Poozle”, which was funny but not in a good way.  Anyway, when I’ve got to call it something, like, if I knock it on the kitchen table when I’m sliding around in my socks, or a baseball hits it, and I’ve got to tell Dad or Mrs. Pelech, who’s the school nurse—or if I’ve got to answer one of Ms. K’s stupid questions—I just always call it Crotch.  But I don’t think about girl’s parts, really.  Unless it’s during scoliosis checks and Kate Petersen’s got her bathing suit on.  But that’s just because she’s got actual boobs already and I want to know if she’s also got a lot of pubic hair.