Something Old - Dianne L. Christner [1]
Jake, who had pulled Katy’s ponytail twice on the road trip, curled his lip and elbowed Chad Penner. Katy turned to see what tickled them. Her cheeks flamed to watch the boys act like first graders over some girls in shorts and brightly colored Ts.
She tossed her black ponytail and nudged Megan Weaver. “Stupid boys. Act like they never saw shorts before.”
“Probably not on church girls,” Megan replied. “Those girls are looking this way. Should we go talk to them?”
Lillian Mae Landis, the third friend in their tight trio, frowned at her navy culottes. “I wish my mom would let me wear shorts.”
For Katy, her homemade culottes afforded more freedom than her normal below-the-calf skirts, and she would die before she showed her legs. She smoothed the cotton folds that clung to her legs and studied the other girls. “I hope they’re nice.” She gently bit her lip, wondering if they knew how to play Red Rover. Or would they take greater pleasure in calling her ugly names like “Plain Jane"? One of the shorts-clad girls waved. “Let’s go,” Lil urged.
To Katy’s relief, it turned out that a girl in green shorts had a cousin who lived in Plain City. The common acquaintance gapped the bridge between the Mennonite girls in shorts and the more conservative ones wearing culottes, which was fortunate since their sleeping bags and duffels all landed in the same cabin.
After participating in a long morning of organized activities, the Plain City girls took advantage of a few minutes of relaxation. Katy squinted up through glistening leaves, trying to locate an angry, chattering squirrel.
Lil propped an elbow on a bare, chubby knee. “Let’s name ourselves after something that comes in threes.” Their counselor had just divided their cabin in teams of three and given them fifteen minutes to name their group.
Katy gave up on the squirrel and tried to ignore the tight-fitting shorts Lil had already borrowed from a cabin mate. Things that come in threes. She twirled her long, black ponytail and thought about the picture books she’d read to entertain her younger siblings while her mother shelled peas. “There’s the three bears, three Billy goats, three little pigs—”
“Nah.” Lil tilted her leg this way and that. “Everybody’ll think of those.”
“How about the Trinity?”
“Yeah, I like it,” Megan’s face glowed. Katy wasn’t sure if Megan was excited about her suggestion, or if she sported a sunburn. She was the only person Katy knew whose skin was as pale as white chinaware with hair as light as yellow thread. Lil was light-complected, too, but her freckles camouflaged it.
With a scowl, Lil said, “No way. Too holy.”
“She’s right.” Megan reconsidered, nibbling at the tip of one of her blond braids.
Lil’s blue eyes lit with cunning, and Katy inwardly cringed. “Three Bean Salad! Nobody else will pick that name.”
“Huh?” The other two scowled. Leave it to Lil to think of food, Katy thought.
“Don’t you see? It’s perfect. Megan is the green bean since her parents are always talking about stewardship and recycling. I’m the garbanzo.” Lil shimmied her shoulders and singsonged, “Gar—ban—zo.” She pointed at Katy. “And you can be the kidney bean.”
“What? I hate it. Do you even know what a kidney does?”
“You’re just a kid with a knee. Get it?”
Katy watched Lil pat her bare knee again. “That’s stupid. My knees never show.” She hoped Lil got the point that at least she was a modest person.
“Sometimes they do in your culottes,” Megan remarked. Katy’s ears turned pink. “What?”
“I only saw them once in the morning relay.” Megan sighed. “Never mind. Would you rather be the green bean?”
“Red’s her favorite color,” Katy tossed her head toward Lil and pulled her culottes down below the middle of her shins. “If Lil’s so set on it, let her be the kidney bean.”
Megan turned up her palms. “Will you two stop arguing? We’ll be three peas in a pod; then we can all be the same.”
Lil rolled her gaze heavenward. “It’s two peas in a pod, and we’re not the same at all.”
“Got that right,” Katy grumbled, thinking about the giant dishpan full