Aerie InternationaL - Missoula County Public Schools

jake ross
greenville, south carolina, usa
WorKer bee
The way River walked made me have to cross my legs sometimes, if
you know what I mean, and I think you do. She wasn’t like most girls,
with dark denim jeans hugging like a second skin and over-exaggerated
mosquito bites pressing out of low-cut polo shirts. River was different;
she was – what’s the word? – unconventionally sexy, like straight out
of the movies, with her flowing skirts and tennis shoes made out of
recycled tires and bouncing,
brick-colored hair that fell
down to where I imagined
the crack of her ass to start.
That may not sound so hot to
you, but I swear it’s the way
she walked that got me going.
That walk, it could kill a guy.
She walked real aggressive, like if you got in her way she’d slam
you against the lockers and verbally assault your character until you
realized you’d been wrong all your life. She was a real hippie, see, but a
smart hippie, up on all the current events and all that. River was fiery,
and she openly hated stupid people. She regularly destroyed dunces
and left them floating in her wake. Once, in history class, Football
Bobby made this comment in favor of the president, but he didn’t have
the facts to back it up, see, so River took him out in front of the whole
class, proverbially tackled him on the fifty-yard line of Debate Stadium,
knocked his helmet off and left him for dead. For the rest of the year,
Bobby was real quiet in history class.
But maybe that was a bad example; maybe a better example would
be Fresh Out of Home-School Susan, who felt the need to give her own
opinion on stem-cell research in the middle of a biology lecture, and even
Professor Whitaker couldn’t quiet River down then; she stood up and
yelled until Susan shrank into her turtleneck like, well, a turtle, a few
wires anxiously escaping her normally perfect brunette bun. After that,
Susan moved from the front row to the back one. She knitted. Sometimes
River would shoot Susan a look, and Susan would start knitting like the
craziest son of a bitch I ever saw. Her face would scrunch up and redden
out of anger and she would start knitting so fast that you could hear her
22
River was different; she
was – what’s the word? –
unconventionally sexy, like
straight out of the movies.