First day of school

6th Grade Jean shorts to my calves. Black high tops and scrunchy socks that almost make it to the cuff. White Niketown t-shirt. A fake leather drawstring backpack I bought at CVS which anyone else would call a purse.

7th Grade Shaved sides with a pink ponytail on top, like a party-guy's coonskin cap. Bright red tie-dyed Greatful Dead shirt. Looking tough. Shit's changed. I'm essentially saying "I smoke pot now." One of the bussed-in-from-Hartford girls sees me as I walked by her, "Ohmygawawwed, lookit Brendan." This is exactly what I wanted, but she can't know that so I turned to her, sneered, "What's up witchyoo?

9th Grade Big blue Jnco jeans, stout navyblue etnies skate shoes, blue polyester shirt, blue suspenders over a clean wifebeater but under my shirt. This is me. I'm new I'm tough I hang out with older girls. I'm a fucking vegetarian. Kid behind me in my math-for-the-dumbass-class asks if I'm wearing a bra.

Freshman year of college Black t-shirt from City Lights bookstore in San Fransisco. Bronze arms from surfing in San Diego. Greased Hair from Memphis. Sandals from Virginia. Workpants also from somewhere. Look at me. I've been to places. I've had jobs. A person who will later be my friend and roomate comments to his mother that that boy is wearing janitor pants.