Since Casey seemed to know everybody at Saks High, I figured he could give me the lowdown on this girl Missy before I called her that evening.
“Missy Walker? Oh, she’s a slut,” he told me while we hung out in my backyard listening to Dead Milkmen on his boombox.
“But she’s only, like, what, fourteen?” I asked. “How could she be a slut already?”
“Hey, that’s just what they say. She’s easy. Been around the block. Known to go where most girls never dare.”
I looked at him dubiously.
“I don’t know from personal experience or anything. But this guy Mark Shelby said he did it with her.”
“One guy and she’s a slut?”
“Yeah, but then, the next week she made out with Gary Durham in the parking lot of the skating rink.”
“So she’s been around the block.” I tried to play it off. “Who hasn’t? In LA, this stuff is no big deal.”
“I don’t know how they do things in LA, but, in Alabama, if a girl gives it up wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am, she’s a slut.” Casey flipped the tape over and hit play. “Still, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t go for it. Missy’s got great tits.” He flashed a lascivious smile and sang along to the tape: “My girl has a pet duck, and my girl is a heck of a fuuuuuu-riend.”
(read the rest of “A Southern Girl,” here.)