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My Guy
by Sarah Weeks


'I knew this was going to happen. I just knew it,' I said when Buzz and I met on the corner to walk to school together.

'What?' he said, yanking up his sleeve to look at his watch. 'Am I late?'

'I'm not talking about punctuality, you cornflake. I'm talking about life and death.'

'Well, I'm glad you know what you're talking about, Guy, because I sure don't.'

I didn't see any point in beating around the bush. Buzz is my best friend, and I tell him everything. Even the awful stuff. Like this horrible piece of news.

'My mother is getting married,' I said.

Buzz stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me. 'What? Oh, man. Please tell me she isn't gonna marry that dork Brad.'

'No,' I said. 'Worse than Brad.'

'Come on. Who could be worse than Brad?' asked Buzz. 'The man winks and has a wallet made out of fur.'

'Trust me, Jerry is worse than Brad,' I said.

'Who's Jerry?'

'Jerry Zuckerman.' I kicked a stone on the sidewalk and sent it skipping out into the street.

'Who's Jerry Zuckerman?'

' 'Zuckerman, you trout. Does it ring a bell?' I said.

'Not really,' said Buzz. 'The only Zuckerman I know is Lana.'

'Exactly.'

'Exactly what?' he asked.

'Jerry Zuckerman is Lana Zuckerman's father.'

Buzz screwed up his face in disbelief.

'Your mother is marrying our Lana Zuckerman's father?'

I nodded.

'Sheesh,' Buzz said with appropriate feeling.

I've known Lana Zuckerman since kindergarten, when she used to torture me by calling me 'Girlie Guy' because of the pink mittens my mother made me for Christmas that year.

'Pink is a girl's color,' I said with utter dismay as I stared at the mittens on Christmas morning.

'Oh, pooh,' my mother said. 'How can someone own a color? Look at your skin, Guysie. It's pink- And you're a boy, aren't you? That pink and blue business is just nonsense. I don't believe in It.'

Well, I believed in it, and apparently so did Lana Zuckerman and the rest of the kids in her crowd. The day I wore those mittens to school, they chased me around the playground yelling, 'Girlie Guy! Girlie Guy! Let's have a tea party!' until finally the teacher came out and called them off. I accidentally 'lost' the mittens down the sewer grate on the way home from school that day. But losing the unpleasant memory has proved to be a lot harder.

From kindergarten on, somehow Lana and I ended up in the same class every year until we went to middle school. She was always the tallest kid in the class, boy or girl. She towered over everyone, and anyone who tangled with her once knew enough to avoid doing it again. She's as mean as a snake and about equally appealing.

Buzz moved to town when we were all in second grade, but Lana didn't take much notice of him. By then she'd decided that all boys were beneath her, which, because of her height, was absolutely true. To her we were all just a bunch of puny, worthless little balls of crud, to use her exact words. Fine with me. I was more than happy to be ignored by her. I knew she was dangerous.

Then last year a pretty bizarre thing happened. It's kind of a long story, but I guess in a way I started it by having a crush on this girl Autumn Hockney. At first, Buzz thought I was crazy to like a girl. I wasn't all that sure it was such a good idea myself, but Buzz was so upset by it that he threatened to tie me to a kitchen chair and keep me there until he had managed to talk some sense into me. Then, much to my surprise, he changed his mind about girls and got a crush on one himself That girl turned out to be none other than Lana Zuckerman. It seemed like a crazy match to me. I couldn't figure out why Buzz, who is one of my favorite people on earth, would be interested in Lana. But he likes her. And she likes him right back

'So Mr. Zuckerman and your mom are getting married? I can't believe it. Sheesh, Guy, this is big. Is he gonna dump Mrs. Zuckerman the First to make room for your mom?' Buzz asked as we continued on toward school.

'The Zuckermans are divorced, you flounder. Remember? Lana lives with her dad except in the summer, when she goes out to California to live with her mom.'

'Oh yeah, I forgot,' he said. 'She doesn't talk about it much.'

I could relate. My parents have been divorced for about a year and I hardly ever talk about it. What is there to say, really? It just is. The way it worked out, I basically live with my mother, because my dad travels a lot for his job. I call her house 'home.' But I spend a lot of time at my dad's house too.

(Copyright by Sarah Weeks)


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