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My fashion sense had definitely improved since I’d left! With final touches on the brown eye shadow I had applied to bring out my hazel eyes, and the last touch up on my lips, I went down the hall into the kitchen to have one last sip of my vodka before heading out the door to the taxi. The driver took a look at me climbing in the back with boggling eyes. I murmured the address of the pub where the event was taking place and he gave a booming laugh, “You look a bit dolled up going to that dump,dont’cha love!” I knew it, I had been trying too hard, but I was running late and had to just deal with the fact that I was going to this stupid party. The thought of seeing my old classmates just wasn’t appealing.I never really got on with the girls in my year. Too snotty, cock hungry, and attention seeking. I envied their perfect hair, perfect make up, perfect clothes and perfect skin. I had the opposite. Fuzzy dirty blonde curls, dry skin and a woeful fashion sense. And they loved to remind. Later they would jack themselves off--carefully not to look at each other, the way queers would--but they wanted to get a peek into that rocking car first.They got out and strolled side by side, innocent as could be, up toward the car in the row ahead.They came up beside it and paused, pretending that they were talking to each other, but looking out of the corners of their eyes into the back seat of the car.They had arrived just in time to see Mike start fucking Linda.They became so engrossed in the sight that it never dawned on them that they, too, might be under observation.But Thelma and Homer Wright had their eyes on them--watching the watchers, as it were.Clyde and Tina were looking on, as well, peering over from the front seat as Mike and Linda fucked in the back. But none of them noticed the two excited faces that were looking in the side window, cheek to cheek, eyes bulging out and mouths hanging open with envy.Linda and Mike were too interested in each other to notice.
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I nodded, took my shovel, and cut across the yard to the furthest section of sidewalk. I started about four feet onto Mrs. Keegan's part of the sidewalk. Dad said you should always do a little extra. I thought about that and turned back to do another two feet of her sidewalk. There was maybe 14 inches of snowfall to clear. It wasn't powdery and light, but it wasn't the wet, really heavy stuff that was good for instant snowballs.I moved steadily along the sidewalk toward the corner. It took about three shovels for each foot I advanced. It felt good – the vibration of the shovel along the concrete and up through my hands and wrists, the swing of the shovel against the heft of the snow, the thud and whack of the shovel blade into the seams in the sidewalk to keep a daydreaming shoveler alert. I heard Jack whistling while he worked. He knew a lot of songs. He was in the high school band and orchestra, and he went dancing with girls. I thought whistling was a waste of breath except for.

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