Life's like Sanskrit read to a pony

Now, I'm not calling my friend Genie a horse or anything but she's been reading my stories lately and believing them too much. She sent me an email today and told me that this one both amused and alarmed her. Amused, because she recognized the boys in question — she was there, you see, in grade five with me and Kay, and she had a crush on Roger Larmon too. I can tell you that now, because it was so long ago, and we're all grownups, and so if by some bizarre accident Roger reads this, neither Genie nor I will die of embarrassment.

Back then, though, we thought we might. When you're ten, and your bra strap peeks out from under your top, there's nothing anyone can say to make you disbelieve the end of the world is coming.

The story alarmed her, though, because she worried that Kay's boyfriend, the motorcycle boy, was killed, and why hadn't she heard about it and when, exactly, had it happened?

Well, Genie, the reason no one told you about it is because it didn't really happen. What you're reading here are stories, not an autobiography. Like most stories, they are based on events and people in the author's life, but there's a difference between based on, and really happened. Kay's boyfriend — yes, you know who I mean, Genie; the guy with the red hair and the great smile, who looked a little like Parker Stevenson — wasn't killed on his motorcycle. He did have a motorcycle, though, and so did all his friends. And it was one of them who was in-real-life killed. If you email Kay, she can tell you his name. I can't remember it.

Genie was my best friend, too. Before Kay. Genie and I go back to grade three. And all three of us are still close. Well, as close as we can be when we live in different cities, some of us in different countries. We have email.

There was me, Kay, Genie, and three other people I haven't told you about yet, but will one day soon. I've had a story in draft form for months about my friend Red. Genie, you know who I mean, don't you? Red and I were in grade two together. She's the oldest friend I have, and I still have her. The other two, I hadn't yet given names, so give me a moment.

OK, the girl who was in our circle of friends from grade three until the end of grade thirteen, when she moved to Calgary, is Kaya. She had black hair and dark eyes, and always told us she was part native. Cree, I think. And the only boy in our circle, the one who used to drive all five of us girls around in the back of his El Dorado convertible, with the top down and us sitting in a row along the back, just like in the movies; the one who was shorter than all of us and whom we all loved like a brother, except for Kaya, who loved him for real, I'm going to call Gilbert.

(That's his real middle name, Genie. Or his confirmation name. Or something like that.)

Next to Kay, I've always been closest to Gilbert, and he's closest to me now, both physically and emotionally. He lives not three miles from me, in Toronto, and we see each other about once a week.

So there you have it, Gentle Reader, a new cast of characters. I have so many stories to tell you about them...

And only Genie and Kay, because they both know who Postmodern Sass is, will know what's true and what's not.

In the next story, Jack talks nerdy to Sass.