If My Memory Serves Me Right, chapter 1
She's a rebel
She's a saint
She's the salt of the earth
And she's dangerous
My real name is Haushinka, but I don't think that really matters anymore. No one's called me that for years. Where I'm from and what's happened in my past is not up for discussion, but I will tell you that I'm not good at staying in one place for a long period of time. All my life I've moved around, but I've never found anywhere that could hold my interest. I hoped things would be different when I arrived in Jingletown. Different is an understatement considering what I found.
I guess the real story starts in Starbucks, as all good stories do. I was sitting there reading a paper and avoiding the scandalized looks that were coming my way from all the older women who were sitting across the café. Something about my appearance obviously turned them off. It could have been my pink hair or my thrift store outfit. Or the many piercings on my ears and the tattoos that were visible on my arms. Anyway, I was used to this type of unwanted attention, so I shrugged their whispers and stares off.
Soon enough someone entered the café who looked more my type. He was wearing skinny jeans, a Ramones shirt, and had all the usual markings of a punk rocker. I watched from behind my newspaper as he ordered his coffee and scanned the café. Our eyes met, and we both reached an understanding that we had a lot in common. He came and sat down across from me. He was the first person who I had met in Jingletown.
"I'm Tunny," he said, "I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you."
I stalled by taking a long drink of my frappacino and took the time to study him. He was blonde, and kind of chubby, but not fat. He had wide, innocent eyes, but I could tell that he'd seen just as much of the street life as I had. And I'd seen a lot by then.
"I'm Haushinka," I said after I had swallowed my coffee, "I'm new to the area."
"Haushinka? Wow...that's a peculiar name," he said, but it wasn't unkind, "So where are you from?"
"I think the better question is where aren't I from," I said with a small laugh. "I've been everywhere."
"And you're on your own?"
"Yes," was all I could bring myself to say. I wasn't about to pour my past out to him.
"Where are you staying?"
"I haven't figured that out yet. I'll find somewhere. I always do."
The conversation turned to music. He and I agreed on a lot of the same bands, and we sat and talked for a good long time. Our conversation was interrupted by one of the older, snobby women asking if we could please keep our voices down. I glared at her and prepared a retort, but Tunny merely said, "Yes, of course."
"Why'd you let her boss you around like that?" I asked in disgust
"See, you've got some stuff to learn. Like who we can rebel against and who we need to leave alone. Me and my friends are called the Underbelly of this town. I mean because we're the street punks, that just what we're referred to as. And this one guy in our gang of friends tried to pickpocket that woman the other day and got caught, so we've got to stay on our toes around her for now."
"I gotcha now. And how many kids are in the Underbelly?"
He went off on an explanation of who was in the Underbelly. I didn't listen very hard, but I did agree to come meet them all. I followed him down a few blocks to an area under a raised highway. There was no one else in the vicinity besides kids who looked like Tunny and me. He introduced me to a few people, but kept pulling me along until he found whoever he was looking for, occasionally stopping to ask people if they had seen 'Jesus' around.
"Finally. New blood here, Jesus!" He shouted to a tall boy with black hair. The boy turned around and our eyes met, and I couldn't look away. There was something about him, something liberating. I never wanted to look away.
I heard Tunny's voice as if from far away.
"See, this is Jesus. He's kind of the king of the Underbelly, if you will." He grinned at the tall boy, but the boy was still looking at me curiously.
"And this is..." Tunny began, and I tore my eyes away from the tall boy. Tunny was struggling with my name, as most people to the first time they meet me. I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but before I could say my name, Tunny cut me off.
"Whatsername. This is Whatsername," he grinned at me, obviously pleased to have coined this new name for me, and I was too dumbstruck by the boy in front of me to correct him.
"Nice to meet you, Whatsername," he said slowly. "You can just call me Jesus. Everyone else does."
She's a saint
She's the salt of the earth
And she's dangerous
My real name is Haushinka, but I don't think that really matters anymore. No one's called me that for years. Where I'm from and what's happened in my past is not up for discussion, but I will tell you that I'm not good at staying in one place for a long period of time. All my life I've moved around, but I've never found anywhere that could hold my interest. I hoped things would be different when I arrived in Jingletown. Different is an understatement considering what I found.
I guess the real story starts in Starbucks, as all good stories do. I was sitting there reading a paper and avoiding the scandalized looks that were coming my way from all the older women who were sitting across the café. Something about my appearance obviously turned them off. It could have been my pink hair or my thrift store outfit. Or the many piercings on my ears and the tattoos that were visible on my arms. Anyway, I was used to this type of unwanted attention, so I shrugged their whispers and stares off.
Soon enough someone entered the café who looked more my type. He was wearing skinny jeans, a Ramones shirt, and had all the usual markings of a punk rocker. I watched from behind my newspaper as he ordered his coffee and scanned the café. Our eyes met, and we both reached an understanding that we had a lot in common. He came and sat down across from me. He was the first person who I had met in Jingletown.
"I'm Tunny," he said, "I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you."
I stalled by taking a long drink of my frappacino and took the time to study him. He was blonde, and kind of chubby, but not fat. He had wide, innocent eyes, but I could tell that he'd seen just as much of the street life as I had. And I'd seen a lot by then.
"I'm Haushinka," I said after I had swallowed my coffee, "I'm new to the area."
"Haushinka? Wow...that's a peculiar name," he said, but it wasn't unkind, "So where are you from?"
"I think the better question is where aren't I from," I said with a small laugh. "I've been everywhere."
"And you're on your own?"
"Yes," was all I could bring myself to say. I wasn't about to pour my past out to him.
"Where are you staying?"
"I haven't figured that out yet. I'll find somewhere. I always do."
The conversation turned to music. He and I agreed on a lot of the same bands, and we sat and talked for a good long time. Our conversation was interrupted by one of the older, snobby women asking if we could please keep our voices down. I glared at her and prepared a retort, but Tunny merely said, "Yes, of course."
"Why'd you let her boss you around like that?" I asked in disgust
"See, you've got some stuff to learn. Like who we can rebel against and who we need to leave alone. Me and my friends are called the Underbelly of this town. I mean because we're the street punks, that just what we're referred to as. And this one guy in our gang of friends tried to pickpocket that woman the other day and got caught, so we've got to stay on our toes around her for now."
"I gotcha now. And how many kids are in the Underbelly?"
He went off on an explanation of who was in the Underbelly. I didn't listen very hard, but I did agree to come meet them all. I followed him down a few blocks to an area under a raised highway. There was no one else in the vicinity besides kids who looked like Tunny and me. He introduced me to a few people, but kept pulling me along until he found whoever he was looking for, occasionally stopping to ask people if they had seen 'Jesus' around.
"Finally. New blood here, Jesus!" He shouted to a tall boy with black hair. The boy turned around and our eyes met, and I couldn't look away. There was something about him, something liberating. I never wanted to look away.
I heard Tunny's voice as if from far away.
"See, this is Jesus. He's kind of the king of the Underbelly, if you will." He grinned at the tall boy, but the boy was still looking at me curiously.
"And this is..." Tunny began, and I tore my eyes away from the tall boy. Tunny was struggling with my name, as most people to the first time they meet me. I opened my mouth to introduce myself, but before I could say my name, Tunny cut me off.
"Whatsername. This is Whatsername," he grinned at me, obviously pleased to have coined this new name for me, and I was too dumbstruck by the boy in front of me to correct him.
"Nice to meet you, Whatsername," he said slowly. "You can just call me Jesus. Everyone else does."
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