Chapter 13

When Genevieve got up ... at noon ... the bicycle was still there. At 10 there is no interest and a dozen explanations of why it was still in the kitchen wouldn’t matter ... but at 10, almost 11 ... Genevieve was just starting into the girls mature sooner than boys stage of adolescence. Her body was changing and she really had no control of the happening.

‘Sixth grade this year ... middle school ... a new ... different ... building ... different setting. Individual classes in different rooms ... What did I do with the handout from Elementary graduation?’

A quick search of her file drawer.

‘Got it ... ooo ... should have read it last May.’ There it was ... black letters on white paper.

6th Grade Orientation
August 31st, 1971.
Parents drop off students before 10 AM
Students need bring nothing
PIZZA PARTY AFTER ORIENTATION

‘Something ... what was it?’ She turned the sheet over. ‘Ah.’

Thursday, September 2nd 1971. 8AM
SHORT DAY
MEET YOUR INSTRUCTORS
BUY BOOKS!!
CHECK ... CASH ... CARD
2PM PARENT PICKUP

‘Yup, should have read it last May.’

A bit of a dither ... Genevieve dithered?

‘I never dither!’

‘What’s the date? July 4th ... July 4th?’

FIREWORKS!!!

‘I swear, girl. You’d forget your ass if it wasn’t bolted on.’

Her phone beeped ... message.

‘You’re on your own, I have to deliver Bethanne.’

‘Daddy.’

‘Bethanne? Who is Bethanne?’

Quick like a bunny she ran to the kitchen. No bicycle. ‘Ah ... Bethanne.’

Using the kitchen extension, she called Chief Barnsley.

“Chief. Can I use my car to get to school?.”

“???”

“Nope ... Middle School. I graduated Merdian El in May.”

“!!!”

“Only if it has insurance, headlights, brakelights, turnsignals and windshield wipers ... and I have a legal drivers license. I see. Bicycle it is.”

“...”

“Bicycle ... with registration and insurance. Barney? Oops, Chief Barnsley. Sorry about that.”

“...”

“The bus...”

“.!.’

“Daddy’s little girl has to set a standard. Yes Sir. Bus.”

She hung up.

You don’t need to see the tantrum.

Well ... maybe just a little.

Flat on her back, drumming her heels to ‘Wipeout’ and shouting all the words she knew but couldn’t use in mixed company.

And Daddy watched.

She wore down...

Daddy cleared his throat.

What do you think?

Yup ... all that and sheet white alternating with brilliant red and deep purple ... and spitting soap.