I wouldn’t have learned to befriend the Melony Beoufs and Janet Granges of the world; nor would I be able to differentiate between the Zoges, the Forrests, and the Brollishes. There’d be a lot more Jeremies than Hyacinths and Masons at Oakshire Elementary. Jeremies grew up into Forrests and Brollishes.
Time for a change of subject. “What are you gonna do this week, Tarnia?”
Just looking at the back of her head, I saw Tarnia wiggle. In the mirror her poofball bangs were starting to wag like a poodle’s tail. “Me and hubby are paintballing!”
Catherine looked up from her phone. “Paintball?” She sounded genuinely perplexed.
“Yeah! It’s great! I get to shoot people and nobody gets hurt!”
The phone was now in Catherine’s lap, screen side down. “I thought something like paintball would be more of an Amazon game.”
Tarnia looked at Catherine in the mirror. “No, ma’am. I mean, like, Amazons play, but it’s like…like…” Tarnia stopped talking to make a turn. “It’s like…like…it’s perfect.”
“Perfect how?”
“My legs are longer so I can run faster than a Little, no offense…”
“None taken.”
“But I’m still small enough to be able to crouch down and hide in the trees and the tall grass. I can both run and hide!”
“The guns?” Catherine asked.
“Amazon strength doesn’t matter when the gun is doing the shooting. What matters is hand eye coordination, reaction time, and using the surrounding terrain to your advantage.”
“I wouldn’t mind shooting an Amazon…”
Tarnia ignored Catherine’s comment and couldn’t stop herself. “Everywhere else, I’m either too big for one thing or too small for another thing. At paintball I’m just right. I’m an M.V.P.”
“The world feels like it was made for you,” I said.
“Yeah. Pretty much.”