Twister in Blue Jell-O Part II
The freshman’s mom was clueless.
And Gitt is smooth. The night of her blue Jell-O party wasn't some kind of fluke.
She walked the mom in and treated her like a special guest and showed her around as if there were no strangeness at all. Gitt leaned on the graceful architectural lines of high archways that welcome you into expansive and cavernous spaces and follow you all the way through to her father’s study and a good, handsome leather sofa where Gitt encouraged the mom to hang out with her son while she got him another ice pack and she brought the mom some punch, plain punch, no umbrellas added. The freshman looked at Gitt as if she was a goddess and he had figured out a secret no one else at the party knew. And all this dumb mom did was coo, “Isn’t she just the most responsible girl?”
Gitt blamed the blood on her shirt as the reason none of her gang was at her ancient front door (the one her dad had shipped all the way from some Eastern European country) when the kid and his mom left. No one slapped her shoulders and told her, “You were awesome.”
The whole crowd mostly hung back. And it seemed everyone wore blank expressions, maybe because Gitt was so far away, so high up from everyone. If she had been squeamish, Gitt supposed she’d be standing there too, looking foolish. Maybe the freshman’s face had freaked everyone out. And then she thought, really, it must be all those people at the party respected her because of that freshman’s broken nose and what she’d done.
She never knew if any of the people there friended and followed her because of her house with the vampire door, this place they got lost in with all its fancy furniture, gadgets, and those trips upstairs to check out her stuff. Who was genuine? Would any of these friends be nice to her without all of this? The new girl, Kimmie, the one Julio invited that made Gitt screw up two boxes of Jell-O listening to Adrianna complain about her boyfriend’s extra friendliness to other girls. And Gitt is an AP, Honor Society student. She doesn’t get it wrong. Ever. What was it about that girl, Kimmie? Was she different?
And Gitt is smooth. The night of her blue Jell-O party wasn't some kind of fluke.
She walked the mom in and treated her like a special guest and showed her around as if there were no strangeness at all. Gitt leaned on the graceful architectural lines of high archways that welcome you into expansive and cavernous spaces and follow you all the way through to her father’s study and a good, handsome leather sofa where Gitt encouraged the mom to hang out with her son while she got him another ice pack and she brought the mom some punch, plain punch, no umbrellas added. The freshman looked at Gitt as if she was a goddess and he had figured out a secret no one else at the party knew. And all this dumb mom did was coo, “Isn’t she just the most responsible girl?”
Gitt blamed the blood on her shirt as the reason none of her gang was at her ancient front door (the one her dad had shipped all the way from some Eastern European country) when the kid and his mom left. No one slapped her shoulders and told her, “You were awesome.”
The whole crowd mostly hung back. And it seemed everyone wore blank expressions, maybe because Gitt was so far away, so high up from everyone. If she had been squeamish, Gitt supposed she’d be standing there too, looking foolish. Maybe the freshman’s face had freaked everyone out. And then she thought, really, it must be all those people at the party respected her because of that freshman’s broken nose and what she’d done.
She never knew if any of the people there friended and followed her because of her house with the vampire door, this place they got lost in with all its fancy furniture, gadgets, and those trips upstairs to check out her stuff. Who was genuine? Would any of these friends be nice to her without all of this? The new girl, Kimmie, the one Julio invited that made Gitt screw up two boxes of Jell-O listening to Adrianna complain about her boyfriend’s extra friendliness to other girls. And Gitt is an AP, Honor Society student. She doesn’t get it wrong. Ever. What was it about that girl, Kimmie? Was she different?
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