It's Just a Jump to the Left
“Agnes whispered to Leta.
“I can’t believe her. She came earlier than us on purpose,” Leta said.
Five people up in the line, Jennifer Pomhultz, in a rabbit-fur jacket and side ponytail, executed a perfect step-ball-change while her older sister and a handful of others applauded.
Leta sneered. “There’s the dance move. I knew she’d do it. Like we’re supposed to care that she got a callback for Six Flags.”
“I don’t care. Do you care?” Agnes asked.
“You can’t imagine how little I... care.”
If there was anyone Leta and Agnes hated, it was Jennifer Pomhultz, and for very good reason. For six months, Leta and Agnes had a Friday night routine: At eight o’clock, Leta went to Agnes’s house. At nine, they started getting ready—plumping their lips with Bonne Bell Lipsmacker, experimenting with eyeliner, torturing their hair (Leta’s was shoulder length, stick-straight, and brown; Agnes’s, long and blond and wavy-thick) with curling irons and Aqua Net.MoreLess
“I can’t believe her. She came earlier than us on purpose,” Leta said.
Five people up in the line, Jennifer Pomhultz, in a rabbit-fur jacket and side ponytail, executed a perfect step-ball-change while her older sister and a handful of others applauded.
Leta sneered. “There’s the dance move. I knew she’d do it. Like we’re supposed to care that she got a callback for Six Flags.”
“I don’t care. Do you care?” Agnes asked.
“You can’t imagine how little I... care.”
If there was anyone Leta and Agnes hated, it was Jennifer Pomhultz, and for very good reason. For six months, Leta and Agnes had a Friday night routine: At eight o’clock, Leta went to Agnes’s house. At nine, they started getting ready—plumping their lips with Bonne Bell Lipsmacker, experimenting with eyeliner, torturing their hair (Leta’s was shoulder length, stick-straight, and brown; Agnes’s, long and blond and wavy-thick) with curling irons and Aqua Net.MoreLess
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