From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
The rough wool of my knickers chafes against my shins as I lean back, pumping my new oxfords against the pavement while hum-singing "The Sheik of Araby." I watch my kid sister on the porch, clutching that floppy **Raggedy Andy** with its yarn hair and coarse cotton limbs, looking entirely too smug for a Wednesday afternoon. Everything feels real hotsy-totsy today, especially after hearing the local dry chief got pinched for selling the very hooch he’s supposed to dump. I adjust my stiff celluloid collar, itching to ditch this starched shirt and find where the real jazz is playing.