Hairstyles of the Damned Read Online Free Page A

one tall, gooney girl from the volleyball team who had tons and tons of brown hair all along her forearms and who was so overly fierce and manly; for all that scratching and swearing and hair-pulling, for all that punching and hissing and biting, this was the first time—the very first time—Gretchen had ever felt bad about what she did, the first time she felt worse after it all had happened, and still, she didn’t know the reason. But to me, looking back on it now, it’s easy: Like Gretchen being born fat, it wasn’t Stacy Bensen’s fault she had been born pretty.

six
    American History can suck it. The U.S.A. can suck it. The Thirteen Colonies can suck it. George Washington can suck it. The British can suck it. The Red-coats can suck it. Muskets can suck it. That’s good. Muskets can suck it. Cannons can suck it. Benjamin Franklin can suck it. Roanoke can suck it. Jamestown can suck it. The Quakers, the Pilgrims, and the Indians can suck it. Early American trading posts can suck it. The Boston Tea Party can suck it. The Intolerable Acts can suck it. Bro. Flanagan and his bald liver spots can suck it. His bald liver spots can suck it separately, also. Bro. Flanagan’s overhead projections can suck it. His timelines can suck it. Billy Lowery in the front of the room who has to ask fifteen million fucking questions can suck it. Jim Gallagher behind me, jabbing me in the back of my neck with his pen can SUCK IT! These walls can suck it. These desks can suck it. These books can suck it. The ceiling can also suck it. The other jags in this classroom can suck it. This whole school can suck it. From top to bottom, they can suck it. The teachers can suck it. The Holy fucking Brothers can suck it. The sportos and jocks can suck it. The football players, baseball players, soccer players, wrestlers, runners, the meatheads and their varsity letters can suck it. The student council wanna-be fag politicians can suck it for being on student council and being fag politician wanna-bes. The rich, suburban kids with their brand-new cars can suck it. The dirty, inner-city dope dealers looking me up and down like I’m a pussy can suck it. The other marching band kids can suck it. The stoners, the burnouts, the metalheads, the druggies, the gangster black kids, the gangster Hispanic kids, the whiggers, the nerds, the geeks, the fags, the dweebs, the dorks, the wusses, the pusses, the flamers, the jag-offs, the chronic masturbators, the freaks, all of them can all suck it. The whole fucking school can just fucking suck it.
    I looked down at my digital calculator watch, then I looked up at the clock at the front of the classroom. Both of them said 1:13. American History, 6th Period, Bro. Flangan’s room, Brother Rice Catholic High School, Chicago, IL, USA, North America, Planet Earth. Two more hours of this fucking shit. I sighed, then dug into my back pocket and checked out the mix-tape Gretchen had made me:
    (I am a) Rabbit/The Lemonheads
    Devil’s Whorehouse/The Misfits
    Gimme Some Head/GG Allin
    Dear Lover/Social D.
    Lover’s Rock/The Clash
    Day After Day/The Violent Femmes
    I got it suddenly. All of the songs were about fucking. I looked at the side of the tape, where the title was: I Got Pubic Lice. I kind of laughed out loud in class, then covered it quick with a cough. I looked at my watch and then at the clock once more. I started at my list again.

seven
    Like I said, I heard about everything after school. In the parking lot of Mother McCauley, where Gretchen parked her crappy blue car and where I’d meet to bum a ride home every day after class, I sat on the hood and listened, watching as Kim and Gretchen re-enacted the whole Stacy Bensen fight thing: the other girls giving them looks in the hall, Gretchen remembering being a fat kid, even with her shouting the “Suck my dick, Barbie” thing. I just listened and nodded. Whatever happened that day, I’d have to hear recounted in minute detail before we could go home. I