Terminal Velocity It is hot. The sun is bearing down on you—a simmering eighty degrees, unusual for September in upstate New York—and it feels like a physical weight across your shoulders. The cicadas scream and you usually hate the noise, but you can hardly pay attention to it. You are too focused on Holly. Your class has received the rare privilege of playing on the playground meant for the Older Kids today, and she is standing above you on the steps to the swirly slide, which you are too afraid to go on. She is looking down at you. The sun shining on the back of her head turns her bright red hair into fire. She is saying something to you— something, something. You are not listening. Originally, you had come over here with the intention of scoping out the competition. When you’d asked Logan Greene to be your boyfriend earlier, he’d told you that you could only be his Backup Girlfriend because he wanted to date Holly first. If they broke up, you would be next in line. It’s a sensible enough arrangement, you think. And, after all, Holly is very pretty, and she is one of the Older Girls—one of the first graders—just as Logan is one of the Older Boys. It makes sense. So you’d come to talk to Holly. To see what she’s like. And you do talk. And then she grabs your hand and laughs and she bends over with the force of her laughter and she’s missing a tooth on the right side and she pulls you up the stairs with her and helps you go down the swirly slide for the first time and you are exhilarated. Not afraid. Holly is nice, you decide, and you decide, also, that you’d like to be her friend. (There is a precipice ahead of you. You are standing a safe distance away, for now. You are Logan’s Backup Girlfriend, and Holly is a friend.) *** Miss Dull has moved recess inside today. You’ve never liked Miss Dull much,
Q* Anthology of Queer Culture 33
