3200. But as I walked across the parking lot toward Jason, my only friend in the seventh grade, I discovered that he was not talking to the Princess at all but was talking to her boyfriend, an upper class-men who was the proud owner of a custom car. Nevertheless, I could not resist the temptation to get involved in their conversation as an opportunity to actually see what Sheila was like close up.
Jason was asking the boyfriend thousands of questions about the car.
He wanted to know especially about the increase in the horsepower each
of the various engine improvements accounted for. I didn’t have
anything to say and once in a while ventured a glanced at Sheila who was
wearing a black sweater with white edging. This was the same sweater
she wore almost every single day.
As the two idiots were exchanging their car information I fell to
thinking about the car, and the boyfriend. I know it is cruel to say
such things but it was a fact, he was a skinny, ugly little guy who has
dropped out of high-school and I knew of him because he was bagging
groceries at our neighborhood store. How he managed to become the
boyfriend of the famous Sheila I could not understand.
3203. He saved up every penny he earned and spent it on his car. A car that over the past two years or so he has rendered completely idiotic. Close up, rust was bubbling up under the primer over the patches of Bondo. The interior beggared description. It has been redone with wood grain contact paper, and shag carpet.