Her real name isn't Scruffy. Her real name is much better than that, and her sister's name is Buffy Jo (that part is real) and they used to get kicked off the school bus more often than they were allowed to ride it.

The bus driver was named Alana and she had feathered hair and big sunglasses, which in the 90s were two major socioeconomic indicators and she used to YELL at BUFFY JO and say STOP LIGHTING MATCHES BACK THERE and one time she stopped the bus middle of nowhere and let Buffy Jo and Scruffy out.

When I was in 7th grade Scruffy sat with me sometimes, and she told me about eyeshadow and weed. In 1993 in rural America, she knew all about ecstasy and designer drugs. By 8th grade she had run away to San Francisco for a few months, and come back.

She was smart as a whip, and cool besides. I wonder if she'll ever know how much I looked up to her, how many times I've told people about her (and the time she introduced me to Queensryche, or the time the skaters fought the stoners and she was ringleader, or the time she got our Accelerated Algebra teacher in trouble for throwing books and erasers at her)

anyway she has a baby now, and she lives about ten minutes' drive away from me, and that's all I know. I can't even remember what she looks like; she was one of those kids who never sat for school pictures, you know?

In truth, I thought I'd never see her again - thought for sure she would run far far away and do something glamorous and horrible with her life. I always saw her as one of those people who, barely tethered to begin with, just go bobbing away on the first breeze, never to return -

But she landed. Scruffy has touched down, in my neighborhood. And she has a baby now, six days old. I wonder if I could look her up.

today I read
anti at the 7