What Would Rita Hayworth Do?
A slow fade-in on my life: There’s this little mountain town, smack between two long highways that go nowhere in either direction. There’s the one supermarket, the one movie theater, the one Chinese restaurant. But there are twelve different places to buy junk for your lawn. It’s summer so the days are longer than you can stand. If you want air-conditioning, walk to the convenience store on the corner and take your time searching for an ice pop. There’s this girl. She’s thirteen, but if I say she’s going on fourteen it might sound better. She’s nobody really. You probably wouldn’t notice her if I didn’t point her out. She’s got brown hair to her chin, and bangs that need cutting, and when she reads she has to wear glasses. Today she’s got on a tank top that says SUPERSTAR, but that’s a big lie so go ahead and ignore it. She’s sitting up on the roof of her house, because that’s the only place where she gets cell phone reception. She checks her phone, finds no messages, not even a text.
