And it made me so angry, this feeling that I had to live up to people’s expectations, bow to their whims. But what could I do? I was literally the trashy girl from the trailer park, lucky to get any scraps much less a hunk of goodness like Jock McMahon. And if they knew about what was happening between me, Jason and Brent? Holy shit, every bad thing they already thought about me would be confirmed, I was only living up to their prejudices. So I walked slowly into the hallway, defeated, cheeks burning, heart heavy, with June chattering non-stop beside me, tossing all sorts of nonsense into the air.
“Oh my god, you have to look pretty,” she breathed. “You’re gonna get your hair and nails done, right? Luscious Spa over at the corner of Main and Second?”
“Oh my god, where do you think you’re going to study? The Corner Café? The Coffee Source? Or maybe that new place near school with the free wifi and fancy pastries? Oh my god!” she babbled, her words like a bee in my ear.
And finally I couldn’t take it anymore and whirled on her, voice firm.
“June-bug, I appreciate your support but none of that is going to happen,” I said determinedly. “First, Jock doesn’t study much, he’s too busy with practice and friends, so it was probably nothing. Second, you know I don’t have money to get my nails done, a manicure is thirty bucks. And last, if it does happen and that’s a big if, we’ll be studying in the library. It’s the only place that makes sense,” I said firmly.
But June wasn’t put off at all.
“Whatever Katy, he’ll come calling, I’m sure,” she singsonged as she danced off to her next class. “Look pretty Katy, this is your big chance!”
And my cheeks colored once again, but this time it was because I was kinda mad. Why did I have to like Jock? Why did I have to conform to expectations, swoon when everyone expected me to? Why was there this godawful feeling that I had to belong? But I knew where it came from. It’s because I’m poor, I’m the poor girl at a rich school, and they reminded me day in and day out of how lucky I was to be here. Not overtly saying anything, god no, but rather small things, like June had just done with the comment about the manicure. And so I tried to fit in, tried to be the good girl and do what people expected but those expectations were starting to crush me. I needed to get free, fast, to break out of this trance. And Jason and Brent … they were my answers.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jason
I went through the motions of the day like a zombie. I don’t see Katy at school much because we’re on completely different tracks. The brunette’s with the normal kids, kids who have a shot at going to college, kids who are smart and have after-school tutors to help them puzzle through their classes, do their homework for them if need be. By contrast, I’m on the “vocational” track, or the path for those kids who aren’t headed to college, no way, we’re gonna be mechanics, steelworkers, A/C repairmen, plumbers, all the good shit.
Because college is fine and all, but it’s not for me. I’m not into books or classes, I’m into working with my hands, making things, looking back on something I created with a sense of pride and accomplishment. So yeah, I’m grateful to Brent for hooking me up with the union , it’s a perfect fit with where I see my life going. And I know I’m lucky that Brent stopped by my tent that first day to make conversation.
But I’m a lost boy no more, I’m a man, hard, muscled, on a solid path with the prospect of a steady paycheck, and needs. And god, but those needs were driving me crazy now. The entire day I thought of nothing but Katy at school, how I planned on getting her naked, those big boobies bouncing, those wide hips so sensuous and curvy, parting the thickness until her pink cunt was revealed. And fuck, the things that I was going to do to that pussy … fuck, I had a slight hard-on just thinking about it and it was only sixth period.
So I forced myself to get back to woodshop, to focus on my cabinets. Most of the other kids were crafting boxes, planters, things for beginners that didn’t take much more than two pieces of wood slapped together. But I love true artistry, so I was building cabinets that we could install in the mobile home complete with raised panel doors, custom handles, and beveled glass to show-off fancy dishware. Shit, we didn’t have the crystal vases and dainty porcelain yet, but I was waiting for the day when we’d have enough to buy it all for Katy, treat my best girl to the finest things in life, give her everything she deserved.
Hands busy, I focused on the project in front of me, scrutinizing my work closely, glazing the wood with a deep oak varnish, classy yet utilitarian at once, something you might see in a decorator’s magazine. But once the bell rang, I ripped off my mask and put down the spray can, bolting to the door. Because it was time. Hell yeah, it was time to make Katy mine and I could hardly wait, dick stiff, eyes on fire as I drove like a wild man all the way home, tearing around corners, rubber squealing as the pedal hit the metal.