I’m twelve at the neighborhood block party. The band jams. Bales of hay are scattered around a little platform stage. Kids sway around the edges. Grown ups laugh and drink. Little kids run and race their bikes, jacked up on cotton candy.
The Halloween I was thirteen I went all dirty pirate. I scavenged one of my old man’s shirts and my mother’s silk pajama bottoms. I painted my eyes red to match my headscarf. I even got hold of a plastic saber.
A party at Spud’s place. I would’ve been fifteen. Spud was a dealer who lived on the first floor of a beat-up house. He was older, kind of an asshole. He had a girl named Melody.