Friday, February 4, 2011


"Why'd you put that sweater on over your dress?" Gina asks as she comes into class.  I see her earlier in the day for a different class.  The temperature fluctuates in my room.  I layer.

"I was cold," I say.  

"You're always changing clothes," someone pipes up from the back.  The way he says it, it sounds like I jump into the closet like Superman, emerging in a new costume once an hour.  

"I regulate my temperature with layers," I say.  "It's not like I'm changing my clothes all day long."

"Well, I like it better without the sweater," Gina says.  "We were talking about it earlier.  You looked like a wolf."  I raise my eyebrow.  "In a good way," she continues.

I wonder if my bewilderment shows on my face.  "A wolf?" I ask.

"Yeah.  You know, you're wearing all gray and black.  Your hair's down and long around your face.  Kind of wolf-like."

I'm thinking about how lions are the ones with hair around their faces, but I don't say anything about it.  I'm thinking about the randomness of the eighth grade mind.  I decide that wolves are beautiful, after all, and I'll take it as a compliment.

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