GRASS STAINS - mason johnson

You steal a bra from your friend's sixteen-year-old sister and hope she doesn't notice like that time you took those panties - the pinks ones. You'd gotten a call from your friend after you got home: "bring them panties back."

You found his sister on the lawn, her hand out, palm up. Since you didn't expect her to just be standin' there, you start thinking that maybe she's a deviant and got off on you stealin' her undies, and your thirteen-year-old dick starts to point at her, and you smile as if to say, "I'd like to steal the panties you're wearin'."

Her palm slams you across the face. You fall and realize that she ain't sex crazed, ain't gonna be your "first," she's just the bitch who made you get grass stains on your favorite hoodie.

Now you've stolen one of her bras. You want to attach it to a kitchen chair, learn how to take it apart--like MacGyver and Fonzie--with one snap of your fingers, but you get home and get a call. It's your friend.

"Bring that bra back."

You rub your cheek. You know what's comin'.

Mason Johnson
The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao
Junot Diaz