Page 10 - Asheville NC Revised2

me, the Mad Magazine devotee Lewis.
“You love Becky! I knew it!” he shouted while his thick mop of blond hair
bounced around a large cowlick and framed a victorious smirk. “Those were moon eyes if I’ve ever seen `em. Bet you’ve even kissed her.
I was so enraged I clobbered Larry on the arm, knocking him down where he lay laughing on the floor. “I hate her!” I said. “Don’t you forget it.”
“Okay. Hokay! Darn if that wasn’t the hardest arm knot I’ve had this year,” he said, laughing and moaning.
I stomped out of the bathroom and hid in a reading assignment. The reason Larry didn’t get angry when I knocked him down was that it was perfectly acceptable to hit people on the biceps with the middle knuckle extended, or to scrape someone’s head or rub their belly red. All were signs of affection in our preadolescent society. At least it was more sophisticated than junior high rituals. There, affection was expressed by raking a large glob of spit from one’s lips to the palm side of the middle finger and expertly flipping it up to ten feet in the face of one’s compatriot.
Mom solved the nose picking problem by recommending Vaseline. I believed and it worked. Only the neurosis transferred to my eyes. Where lids joined together was constantly sticking so I’d be pulling them apart, sometimes by stretching my entire face like a yawning monkey. My fingernails also chaffed on the skin they covered and had to be endlessly separated. As soon as I did they relentlessly grabbed hold again. Then I had to pry sticking buttock cheeks apart with constant seat shifting or occasional stealthy hand assistance. Sweet Jesus!
Somewhere in there Junior High began and I had first contact with blue collar, white and black kids. Integration was in full compression. The famous Federal Judge Frank Johhnson threatened to sue school board members like my Dad $1,000 a day if they didn’t end segregation. On the other hand, Alabama Governor George Wallace commanded that Dad maintain massive resistance to federal invasions of state rights or be branded a nigra-lovin Commie.
Yet I began quaking with embarrassment from the skin afflictions which turned my cheeks red. Mom dabbed on blue-green makeup to cover the flaming shame. Then my mouth defected. Everyone was looking so it felt like bricks. Then my entire body began jerking nonstop through the whole school day. The clincher was when I started passing as after every breath. It was if Job’s curse, Pharaoh’s plagues and Oedipus’ furies had descended all at once. But all were purely imaginary, all in my revolting brain.
I sat in class with caked makeup, herkie jerking various body parts, holding my mouth tight while prying my eyes open and trying to hold my breath forever so I wouldn’t stink up the poor teen sitting behind me. Or walked down crowded halls