Not consciously, of course, not for the first few hundred times. School, I had noticed, was considered “my time,” which meant I couldn’t be pressed into labor by my father or grandmother for fear of government involvement. So I learned to take advantage of this. Either by school bus or by my mother’s Taurus, I’d make it to school before seven thirty and wait out options for escape. By my sophomore year, Tony had become my principal friend, or veteran pimp. He was by this point a grizzled imitation of the artful dodger, but with seemingly good parents and an even better little brother who was about to lap Tony at high school graduation. Together Tony and I would find ways to while away the hours by doing anything other than attending class before we had to report home again. We were big fans of Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, and I think we even tried believing we were continuing a long-celebrated American tradition by ditching class and getting stoned, a fantasy combination of Mark Twain by way of Hunter S.
What do You think about Boy Kings Of Texas (2012)?
