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Counted

He thought of the time he had seen her in the girls’ gym class, as he was walking through it with the other boys on the way to the b-ball court outside. The girls were doing jumping jacks. In their white T-shirts, black shorts and sneakers with socks, even though Brigid was wearing the same exact outfit as the other girls, the rest of them looked as bare as he’d ever seen them -- except for Brigid, who looked unusually covered up.

He looked at the smattering of freckles across Brigid’s shoulders. She had a great body, possibly the best in the school -- it was impossible to say, of course, only hers was ever on display like this -- but just her skin was so interesting to look at.

Did she really have 83 freckles? Jamal and he had joked about it in the locker room before coming out.

“You mean you really counted the freckles on her shoulders?” he had asked incredulously.

“Of course. During that long roll-off at practice yesterday. She has one on her butt too. On the right cheek, halfway down to her butthole, under that little ‘Y’ over her crack.”

He laughed as they put their shakos on and headed toward the door. “I can’t believe you count the freckles on a white girl’s butt!”

“Hell, no sisters will go out with me, I’ll take what I can get!”

He thought: Jamal won’t admit it but he’s probably as in love with Brigid as I am.

As they emerged, he had said, “Man, another cold day. Brigid will be freezing her circlets off.”

“So what? She’s used to it!” Jamal said.

As they trotted out he had laughed. “Lord, you’re awful!”

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