Johnny was my first crush in first grade. I wanted to play with him but he preferred Nona, his neighbor. I couldn’t blame him. She wore cowboy boots, flannel shirts, and brown corduroy pants. Not only that, she could spit through the gap between her front teeth and was the fastest runner in the first grade. She also had beautiful thick-lensed eyeglasses with red plaid frames. I might have had a chance with Johnny if I hadn’t told the teacher he stole my milk nickel. He hadn’t. The teacher made me clean out my desk. There it was plain as day, just under my rough paper tablet.
I never stood a chance after that.
The Austins lived just across the pasture from us. Jody Austin “drank.” In our neck of the woods, “drinking” meant a man was considered disreputable, prone to beat his wife and children, and probably didn’t work. It sounded a lot like today’s alcoholic. Jodie qualified magnificently. It was rumored that he had shot a man in a bar. Folks left Jody alone. Every Saturday night Jody hosted his “drinking” buddies for a binge. The festivities started with a huge bonfire. As they sat around on barrels, old cars, and broken lawn chairs, they tossed their cans out in the darkness. They got louder, sometimes had a friendly fight, occasionally rolling all around the fire, finishing off with a little singing…a treat for all the neighbors.
Nutsrok 