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The Corner of First and Second
GENNIFER ALBIN
WALKING INTO A high school kegger was as close to being a goddess as I’d ever get, because nothing parted the sea of my drunk-ass forotten the hell out of Beauford, Texas Someone who had done that should be venerated, since it was no small feat
Especially for a girl
So I strutted through the crowd in h suede boots and a way-too-short checked skirt froie, thankful that a finished se with a closetful of my roommate’s castoffs I was probably the only person in the room whose wardrobe wasn’t one hundred percent courtesy of Kmart
In this moment, it didn’t matter that I’d spent the previous four years with my nose stuck in a book, or that I hadn’t been on the cheerleading squad—one of the three extracurriculars deeotten past the school board’s iron curtain Beauford was a small town, so I knew everyone and everyone knew ot drunk on the weekends or the girl who climbed into the bed of her boyfriend’s truck It was exactly ot ht Only two people in our graduating class had succeeded in landing tickets out of town It was a record year for Beauford High School
“Jacqueline Kelly!” A blond mop of hair attacked me with such force that I nearly fell over
“Tasha,” I said, laughing as I peeledto kill me”
“I’ sex-me-up boots” She fanned herself draed me toward the back patio It was unoccupied save for a few stoners who fled as soon as Tasha glared at theh in South Texas to sit outside, but soood measure “You look incredible Chic and sophisticated You’re a woman of the world”
I tugged atto walk into a rooers and feel like the center of the universe, but sitting here with one of the few friends I’d left behind, I was suddenly aware of how ed and how much hadn’t “I don’t know about that”
“Whatever,” Tasha said “California looks good on you Although I have no clue why you caood ole Buttford”
“Christmas, regle
We’d coined that word “Buttford” ere five, and it still h Trust Tasha to re her She was that type—the girl who put everyone at ease And fifty years from now she’d still be in Beauford Girls like Tasha were the heart of srowing roots so deep that there was no hope of transplant
“Where’s Jesse?” I asked her