Slant. Laura E. Williams

previous Ooooo turns into an Awwwww.

      Then comes the worst part. Mrs. Hobbs assigns us into groups. My group is me, Sandy, Vanna, and Matt.

      First thing Matt says is, “Hey, slant, you like this book?”

      I know this is supposed to be advanced English, but maybe there was no more room in the remedial class. “It’s a play, not a book,” I say back.

      “Looks like a book to me,” Matt says, tossing the, well, book form of the play into the air.

      Sandy looks at me. She’s one of the most popular girls in school, if not the most popular. She’s a cheerleader and her boyfriend is on the football team, of course. Talk about clichés. “Slant?” she says.

      “It’s her nickname,” Matt says. He’s serious.

      I sit absolutely still so that I don’t look like I’m squirming in my seat. I relax my face and open my eyes wider, as if that will help.

      “Can we get started?” Vanna says. She has black hair and black nails, neither one of them natural. She looks like she might not have a brain on account of the occult or drugs, but she’s really sharp. Rumor has it that Vanna only wears stuff from a secondhand shop she goes to every weekend in the Village. We’re not too far from New York City, but my dad would still never let me take the train in by myself.

      “Okay, what scene should we do?” Sandy asks, flipping through the pages.

      “We have to use four characters,” I say. “But I don’t mind having a small part.”

      “Stand in line,” Vanna says. She points to an open page near the end of the play. “How about this death scene? There’s Romeo and Juliet and the friar and Balthasar.”

      Sandy looks at Matt. “You’ll have to be Romeo.”

      “I’ll be Balthasar,” I say, remembering that that’s the shortest part. And there’s no way I’m kissing Matt, even if he is supposed to be dead.

      “You can be Juliet,” Vanna says to Sandy, “and I’ll be the friar.”

      By the time we run through the scene (with Vanna giving us all tips on acting, on account of her seeing lots of off-off-Broadway plays), class is over. Yes, the weekend has begun!

      I dash out of school with everyone else, trying not to get crushed in the throngs. I’m too excited to mind the body slams and flailing elbows. This weekend starts with having my ears pierced, going to a fancy-shmancy party Julie’s parents are having tomorrow night, and finally picking up Grandma Ann on Sunday evening. I’m more nervous than excited about that last part, but I am curious to see Grandma Ann after so long.

      I catch sight of Julie, or rather, Julie catches sight of me and hollers. I wave and wade in her direction.

      “Excited?” she asks.

      “Nah,” I say, grinning up at her.

      After we retrieve Maia from all-day kindergarten, we head to the mall. Even though we live out in a countrylike setting, a huge mall is only a fifteen-minute walk away along back roads, under the highway overpass, and over a mound of grass that once used to be a rubble pile from the building site (according to Daddy, who was actually a teenager when they built the mall).

      Inside, there are at least five places I can have my ears pierced. I’d like to have it done in the back room where no one can see me, but Julie insists on this kiosk in the middle of the atrium.

      “But everyone will see me,” I protest.

      “Yeah,” Julie says, “look at alllll the people staring at you.”

      I look. We’re like flies on the wall in Africa for all the notice we’re getting.

      “Okay.” I give in. Besides, the girl working the kiosk is an older sister of someone on Julie’s softball team, and she won’t make us get a parent’s signature and all that.

      I hand over the twenty bucks my dad gave me this morning and choose a pair of gold studs. The loopy earrings Daddy gave me for my birthday will have to wait until I can take these out.

      “Sit right here,” the girl tells me.

      I have to enter the kiosk and sit on this high, black chair. Now I’m sure I’m totally noticeable, but actually only Maia and Julie are paying any attention. Oh, and the girl about to jab holes in my ears. She’d better be paying attention!

      Finally she says, “Are you ready?”

      I hesitate. I’ve wanted pierced ears for how long? But it’s going to hurt. I just know it’s going to kill.

      “She’s ready,” Julie says for me.

      Yowch! But I don’t say anything out loud.