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“Yes, you will,” said Armpit. “But sweating’s got nothing to do with your disability. It’s just because you haven’t reached puberty yet.”
Ginny giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“You s-said puberty.”
Armpit laughed too, not at the word, but at her reaction to it.
Ginny was still laughing as they headed up the cracked driveway to their shared house. Weeds poked up through the broken cement.
“What are you two laughing at?” asked Ginny’s mother, who had come out to the front porch.
“Something,” said Ginny.
Armpit winked at her.
Ginny tried to wink back. She closed and opened both her eyes together.
Even though the two families lived inside it, the house was smaller than most of the homes in west Austin where Armpit planted shrubs and installed irrigation systems. An oak tree in the front yard shaded almost the entire house.
There were few trees this size in west Austin. That half of the city was mostly built on solid white limestone, with only a little bit of topsoil above it. Dirt had to be trucked in whenever Raincreek Irrigation and Landscaping planted anything.
According to Armpit’s father, the cost of air-conditioning the homes in west Austin, with their high ceilings and grand entrances, was greater than the amount he paid in rent.
Armpit’s father worked in the daytime as a meter reader for the electric company. At night he was a dispatcher for a taxicab company. Armpit’s mother worked as a checker for H-E-B, a local supermarket chain.
Armpit said good-bye to Ginny and her mother, then went inside. His parents were in the kitchen chopping vegetables.
“Hey, how’re things goin’?” his father called.
“They’re goin’,” Armpit muttered as he continued down the hall.
“Hold on, I want to talk to you,” said his father.
Armpit sighed. “What about?”
“Just come here.”
Armpit stepped into the kitchen. “Look, I been working all afternoon and I’m hot and dirty and sweaty. Can’t a person just take a shower without going through the third degree?”
“No one’s accusing you of anything,” said his mother. “Your dad hardly gets to see you since he started working for Yellow Cab.”
“Fine, now you can see me,” Armpit said.
“I don’t appreciate your attitude,” said his father.
“Sorry, I’ll change my attitude,” Armpit said. “Whatever that means.”
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” his mother asked him.
“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes. I’m tired.”
“How you get home?” his father asked.
“Hernandez.”
“I want a sample,” his father said.
