Molly didn't care that everybody called him Stinky. She thought he was the best boy in the second grade, and worth chasing around the playground every single recess.
She liked the look of panic that crossed his pale face whenever he saw her coming. It made her feel like Wonder Woman, like someone worth being scared of. She liked the cowlick that stood up in a furry ruff right on the very top of his head, no matter how hard he wet his comb to try to get it to lay down flat.
"I'm going to kiss him, Mama," she said through an orange mustache of tomato soup. Molly dipped her bacon-lettuce-tomato sandwich into the mug and crammed a huge bite into her mouth.
"What's that, honey?" called Mama from the den. She was ironing Daddy's shirts, sprinkling them with the blue distilled water bottle until they ironed up good and crisp.
"I SAID," Molly hollered, splattering crumbs all over the TV tray, "I SAID I'M GONNA KISS STINKY TODAY!"
Mama came in, still holding the water bottle in one hand. She looked hard at Molly, almost as if she didn't recognize her. The cartoons blared and shrieked from the black and white TV, two full feet from Molly's tray.
"You're going to go blind sitting so close, young lady," Mama said. But it was too late. Molly already wore thick tortise-shell glasses, and she was only in the second grade. "And who is this Stinky, anyway?"
"He's a boy I been chasing," Molly said, licking the lenses of her glasses with a faintly orange tongue. "I been chasing him every day, but he's a good runner. Today I'm gonna get him. Today I'm gonna kiss him." She wiped the wet lenses on her jumper and jammed them back on her nose. They were more smeared than ever.
"I'm gonna chase him, I'm gonna get him, and then I'm gonna kiss him." She stared, rapt, as Bugs Bunny piled fruit on top of Elmer Fudd's bald head. "Today."
"Well." Mama didn't quite know what to say. All this talk of kissing seemed somehow serious. "Why do they call him 'Stinky'?"
Molly shrugged. "I dunno. They just do. No one eats lunch with him. I'm lucky I getta come home for lunch since we live so close. Probably no one would eat lunch with me either."
"Honey, why would you say such a thing?"
Molly just pointed to her glasses. "Four-eyes."
"Well." Mama still didn't know what to say. "You'd better get back to school before the bell rings. Don't forget your sweater."
"OK. Bye." Molly ran out the apartment, chubby legs pumping down the stairs, across the alley. Mama watched from the kitchen window as Molly ran across the playground and into the boxy building.
When the bell rang for recess, Mama was still sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a Pall Mall. It took her a minute to pick Molly out from the crowd. She was already in hot pursuit. Running full tilt, her face red and scrunched up, she pounded heavily just behind a scared looking, pasty-faced little boy. He kept looking over his shoulder to see if Molly was gaining on him. His hair stood straight up in a comical tuft, and every time he'd look back, she'd be a little closer.
Mama held her breath, watching there at the window. Would Molly finally catch him? She grabbed her cocktail with both hands, tense, squinting.
Then ... Bam! Down they both went, Molly and Stinky in a pile of dust. Molly landed right on top of him, mouth full of Stinky's hair. Mama stood up to watch just as Molly kissed him right by the mouth. A few kids pointed and yelled. Even from way up here Mama could see Stinky start to cry.
But she was most interested in watching Molly, who climbed off Stinky to examine her scraped knee. She bent over nearly double, not caring about the wide patch of underpants hanging out in front of God and everybody.
Even from here Mama could see that Molly's leg was bleeding. It was going to be one nasty scab, but Molly liked scabs. She saved them in a box in her room.
Stinky just kept lying there when Molly limped off, a wounded soldier being brave. Stinky made a noise then -- some kind of snuffle, maybe, or a birdlike coo -- but Mama couldn't hear him and Molly wasn't listening. He quit crying all at once when he realized no one was paying any attention.
Stinky stood up, tentative, not knowing what to do. He took a few steps after Molly. She ignored him; off on a top-secret mission. But when he started to chase her, she forgot that she was tragically injured.
Molly wheeled around, arms on hips, and yelled right in Stinky's face. He stopped dead, crumbled. Scuffed dirt with one foot, face hidden in shadow. Molly laughed. She laughed hard, and then she went over and played hopscotch. She won every game. Her knee didn't hardly hurt a bit.