Personality

Aunt Lufisia spilled the beans.

I like George!

Can you believe it, OH-MY-GOD.

She didn't even try to hide my face, do you see my face? It's got a big zit on it, right on the cheek, smooch, kissed me and stayed there, what a punk!

I was sitting with my red crayon in my hand. We were drawing Popeye, except he didn't have an eye because earlier George had ripped the page, when my Aunt said I was like totally in love with him!

I'm calm now. I have calmed.

George hasn't. He got all jittery and started walking around the table in circles.

Aunt and me just looked at him in his blue jeans trying to pull them up because they were loose. He's gangster-like, mostly the reason why I like him, bald-headed and has a mustache.

Aunt just kept sewing, paying him no attention whatsoever.

Now, just think, what is George thinking! Why is he walking around the table? Why hasn't he said anything, should I say something?

"George," I said, but I couldn't deny I liked him so I said, "Calm down."

He stopped at the edge of the table looking at me with my zit and my red crayon, coloring Popeye's nose red.

"Hey, that's not the way it goes!" George said.

"Like it matters, you ripped the page!"

"That doesn't mean you should mess it up!"

"Jeez, it's already messed up!"

Aunt said, still only looking at the half-knit green sweater she had in her hands in a rather low voice, "She stilllllllll likes you."

The still stood so still I could hear my heart beating. What an! I mean, the-she just didn't have to do it! I slammed my crayon on the table.

This calmed George for some reason. He smiled a little.

"What's YOUR problem!" I said in anger.

"I'm not the one breaking crayons!"

"Right, but I didn't tear no pages."

"Hey, that was an accident."

"Love is no accident," her aunt said in her creepy voice.

"Love!" George snapped, then added, "I mean, uh, what's wrong, why are YOU laughing?"
I was giggling. Girls don't laugh! "It was a giggle!"

"What's the freaking difference?"
"Only guys laugh, when a girl laughs it's like music!"

"What 'as that, then, a dead guitar!"
Now my aunt was laughing and when she did her whole body convulsed. She was sitting on an arm chair and the chair moved with her, dust coming off of it and sticking to me. Hey, I was rubber! It needed to bounce off!

I moved hurriedly. Some of my white T-shirt got the best of it.

George pointed at the paper where I had drawn the big red line. "Look what you did!"

"Oh, shut-up!"

My aunt sighed, "Any more of this and I might as well start sewing up a white dress!"

"Aunty!"

"Miss Lopes!"

"Hit a nerve, have I? Now git!"

We weren't about to leave. She was crazy if she thought we were leaving. I crossed my hands and turned my back to both of them.

George did the same then said, "I'm taking my crayons!"

"They're MY crayons!"

"Yeah, right, I paid for the good half!"

"Like hell you did, you can take the brown and the black!"

"What am I supposed to do with that, draw the guitar that you broke with your giggle?"

"Haha, why don't you draw yourself some pants that fit!"

Then, he kissed me and we were sweating.

And my aunt separated us.

Then, she sat back down on her chair.

"Go on, go on, it was getting interesting."

George was stunned like he couldn't believe he did it. I was looking at George like A LOT.

"So," I said quietly.

"So," he mimicked.

"You want to draw?"

"Yeah, I'll change the picture."

"Goo-good, I mean, I'll get a lemonade, you want some?"

"No, I mean, sure but just a little."

And we were back at the table, drawing just like how it had started.

From that day forth at around eight in the morning every Saturday, the same thing happened over and over again, then my aunt died, which was a sad time for me but was also a time for the STUPID white dress.