Bad: A Short Story

Abstract

BAD A SHORT STORY by Annette Kraus She noticed them under the covers, not because she saw them but because she put her hand to the little painlittle tit bump pain. She got up and sneaked downstairs to find a flashlight. She tiptoed not to wake the other kids. She laid the flashlight on the dresser making a spotlight against the wallpaper . She stood sideways and pulled her white straight slip tight against her to see just how big her little tit bumps were. She pushed her hair up on top of her head with her other hand and just stood looking for a long, long time. It was like watching somebody she'd never seen before. She draped one side of her slip down over her shoulder. To stop the funny feeling she put the flashlight under her chin, made it shine up through her nose. Made a red scary funny face. Scared herselfback in bed and held her giggle quiet inside. "I saw you. I saw you in there lookin' at yourself. Lookin' in the mirror. I saw you. Think you're pretty? I saw you." Swish. Swish. Swish. Every swish made her knees give just a little. But she never fell down. She clinched her fists and made her fact tight. She didn't shed a tear. Not while the willow switch was swishing past her dress tail. When it was over she just held her head down until she could hear the porch door shut. She ran to the creek. She sat on the grass bank and let the 11 water run over her feet. She cried until her face spotted and her eyes got red swollen tired. She closed her eyes and fingered the hot red raised welts on her skinny legs and curled her toes around the cold hard little rocks under the water. She shoved them deeper into the earth with the balls of her feet. Long summers, she whispered. Lllong. She made an "1" and ran her tongue all over the roof of her mouth. "L" like lost, lord and lizard. Like lies you're not supposed to tell. Like lice she saw crawling all over the back a Larry Henry's red plaid shirt. Like love! love! love! love! love! Like when her mother said why can't you love one another?, before she told her to lay across the bed. "L"—she could click her tongue off the startin' of an "1" on the roof of her mouth and make it sound like a horseshoe clicking across the bridge. One by one she went over all the welts with the very tips of her fingers and they felt good. She licked the one on her knee. "She's out there poutin'." Poutin'. She could make a "p" with her lips pulled tight against her teeth. Putting them together and pulling them apart. Pah. Pah. Pah. Pah pah, like the tree behind the chicken house and pah pah patch like way down yonder. "P" like pump and powder. She could make a pah with her mouth scrunched up like a "w" but it wasn't easy and she couldn't get the right ah. "She's out there poutin'. Better get herself in here before these beans get cold." Poutin. "P" like a pea shell and Craig's little pee pee that she sneaked and saw when her mother was washing him in the sink. And "p" like pot and pan and pouch like her daddy's Mailpouch . And "p" like Papa! Papa! Papa! Papa! She took Craig out behind the barn and taught him a new game. Stick it out. Put your hands behind your back. Don't touch nothin' but my tongue on the tip. Don't touch my nose. Don't touch my toes. Touch tongues. Just the tip. Tip. Tip. Tippy tip. She tried to say it with her tongue out and that made her laugh out loud. Tip. Tip. Tip. And then smash 'em together! Not like that. You're gonna break your teeth. Do it easy. Craig giggled while she danced around. Danced around. Danced around. She put the radio on the front porch. She...