Class - Cecily Von Ziegesar [79]
“You really are pretty,” Nick said again and slipped his hands inside the waistband of her tights. Below their feet the Grannies lit into “Fire on the Mountain.”
“There’s a dragon with matches that’s loose on the town. Takes a whole pail of water just to cool him down….”
Eliza unbuttoned Nick’s jeans and yanked them down around his ankles. She sat down on top of her coat “You need to take off your sneakers.”
Nick stood over her with a big boner poking out of his Fruit of the Looms. He looked like a unicorn, sort of.
He squatted down to untie his laces. “I’m probably going to break out in hives.”
Eliza hadn’t expected him to be so dainty. “You’re the one who built your own yurt,” she accused, knocking him over onto his back. She tore off his shoes and yanked his pants off all the way. “Stop being such a wuss. I’ve waited too long for this.”
Nick sneezed violently. “All right, all right,” he said and rolled on top of her coat to escape the hay. It was actually pretty comfy, although he was allergic to feathers too.
“I brought condoms and everything,” Eliza announced. “I got them at the health center.” She fished one out of the pocket of her discarded shorts and examined the small print on the wrapper. “You’ll be glad to know they’ve got some kind of special sauce on them for extra sperm-killing power and glide. Oh, and ridges, just like Ruffles potato chips.”
Nick sneezed again, even more violently this time. “They’ll probably give me a rash too.”
“Oh Jesus.” Eliza tossed the condom at him. She took off her tights and threw them at him too. “Do you want to do this or what?”
Nick sneezed again and opened up his arms. “Come here,” he said. “You must be cold.”
Eliza giggled and dove on top of him, scattering an avalanche of hay out of the hayloft and onto the heads of the throng below. “Actually I’m getting warmer,” she murmured. His boner pressed against her belly button. She reached down and took hold of it. “Warmer, warmer. Hot!”
“All right! I’d just like to congratulate whoever’s up there getting it on!” one of the Grannies shouted. “Good times, man. Good times!”
Waiting for a snowfall is like watching a flower open. Scratch your nose and you miss the first flake’s fall. Next thing you know, the horizon is as white as a plate.
It was almost eleven. The barn door stood open. Heavy white snowflakes fell from the sky like a chorus of paper angels. A few minutes ago the Gatzes’ house, only one hundred yards away, was fully visible. Now it was obliterated by the whiteout.
“Guess we’re going to be stuck here for a while,” Geoff observed, waggling his bottle of ether in his skeletal hands.
“Time for a short break!” Wills flung down his guitar and knotted up his long yellow skirt as if he were preparing for a boxing match or a good game of tug-o’-war. Geoff poured some ether on the end of the knot, and Wills squatted down on his haunches to sniff it. Grover held out one of the straps of his overalls and Geoff daubed it with ether too.
“What is that stuff anyway?” Tragedy asked, swaying tipsily.
“You don’t want to know.” Sea Bass winked at her. “Stick with beer.”
“Nothing worse than coming down from an ether high,” Damascus observed. “Besides, it stinks.”
“Ether is not cool,” Sea Bass said definitively.
Tragedy didn’t enjoy being told what was cool and what was not. She preferred to decide for herself. Horseshoes, for example.
She’d learned all about drugs in school. Home was so boring, everyone did them. Not her though. Her parents had done drugs to such excess back in college they were basically brain damaged. Drugs had always seemed pretty dumb. But ether was different. It wasn’t a pill or a powder or some gross weed.
“Can I try some?” she asked Geoff.
Geoff appraised Tragedy’s beautiful face, her lush dark hair, her curvy body encased in an inappropriately skimpy white sundress and furry raccoon coat. He appraised her black rubber