Lard Ass

(Kayla, 1984)

{This is when Kayla and Tom get back from the beach where they have met for the first time. Kayla is new to Birch Falls and Tom wants to show her around town.}

"The best part of Birch Falls is on the wrong side of the tracks."

Tom took me on a tour. "Hurry up," he said. "We only have an hour."

Practically running to keep up with his long-legged strides, i followed Tom down a side street gritty with sand. The midday sun was blistering.

"This side is where all the hideous fast-food places are, the hotels, the shopping district."

"Everyone's mother owns a shop."

I beamed. "Yours?"

Tom kept walking fast. "No. My mother was a school teacher."

"Oh."

"Anyway, the wrong side of the tracks is the real Birch Falls." Tom blathered on. "If you hurry, we can make lunch at my favorite spot."

"I already had lunch."

"Not like this," he smiled.

We continued downhill until we passed an old, long brick building.

"That's the museum," Tom said. "Boring, unless you like history and that sort of thing."

"What's not to like about history?" I asked.

"Well, i guess it's pretty cool. But no one cares about it."

I nodded and wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand.

"That's what i call Big Moe," Tom said, pointing to a huge, lumpy rock in the river bed beside the museum. "Little Moe is the river over there."

"You name rocks?"

"What else is there around here? Birch Falls is mostly a shopping town. Filled with planted trees and fake grass to make everything look pretty. Our freakin' community service guys go around and change the banners on every light post at the end of the week."

"This place is pretty. What's wrong with that?"

Tom smiled, shaking his head as he said, "I prefer the other side of town."

Tom chugged over an old iron bridge across the river. I struggled to keep up.

When we finally got over the bridge, past the railroad tracks, Birch Falls changed completely. Where the other side of Birch Falls had seemed modern, this side seemed dead and buried. The houses looked more like sheds. There wasn't a flame-broiled burger in sight. Instead, Tom led me into a tiny shack with a hand-painted sign that read Aqui.

"We're here," Tom said.

The smell of cilantro and onions made my mouth water. I forgot all about Cheyenne's cooking. Outside, dusty construction workers sat at picnic tables in the sun or in their trucks, eating burritos and drinking cervezas.

"I'm buying today," Tom said. "Next time lunch is on you." He smiled.

I didn't argue. Especially after i bit into the burrito he handed me. My mouth exploded with flavor. It was smoky and spicy, with grilled steak, melted cheese, fresh salsa, avocado, and lime. It tasted so good, i wanted to bury my face in the warm flour tortilla.

"Welcome to my Birch Falls," Tom said, grinning while he chewed, his lips smacking against together.