Even when Gert was working in the gas station, before his scholarship and before the money helped us get a place far away from Uncle Richard, he made sure that I could go to the library and the Community Center. We did not have very much money, but Gert is powerful at surviving life’s battles.
I knew that people do things they do not want to do to contribute to the hoard. It is like a sacrifice, only instead of lighting things on fire, or killing animals to make Odin and the other gods happy, you sacrifice yourself and instead of doing the things you want to do, you have to do things for other people.
According to my list of THINGS LEGENDS NEED, I needed to get money to make the tribe more powerful and to protect Gert against Toucan.
Gert had always sacrificed so much. Now I wanted to make a sacrifice for the good of our tribe, which right now had me and Gert and AK47, even though she and Gert were not a couple at this time. Also, Gert did not believe I could contribute to the tribe’s hoard, and I wanted to show him that that was not right.
On Monday, on the bus to the Community Center, I went and sat down next to Hamsa, putting my backpack on the ground. It was a day off for AK47, so another person was driving the bus. He did not return my dab as I got on. He just said, “Good morning,” and did not say anything else.
“Yoda usually sits there,” Hamsa said. “You’ll need to move when we go to his house to pick him up.”
I told him I knew about their rule and would move. I just wanted to ask him about his job, which was cleaning dishes at a restaurant.
“Oh,” Hamsa said. “It makes my hands look like prunes.” And he held up his hands to show me that the skin was all wrinkled.
“Like prunes,” I said, and Hamsa nodded and went back to looking out the window.
“I have another question,” I told him.
“We’re almost at Yoda’s,” he said, tapping the glass of the window.
I told him I would be quick with my question. I asked how he got the job, since it is hard for people like us to get jobs, and in this economy, Google says, it is hard for everyone to get work.
“My uncle owns it,” Hamsa said. Then he saw Yoda, standing on the sidewalk, and waved. “There is Yoda. You’ll need to move,” Hamsa said.
The bus stopped and I picked up my bag and stood up. “Can I get a job there?”
“You should talk to Big Todd,” the driver said as I was getting out of the seat. “There’s a program for that kind of thing, I think.”
“You aren’t Muslim,” Hamsa said. “You have to be Muslim to work at the restaurant.”
Yoda got on the bus and I moved to another seat. He was right. I was a Viking, not a Muslim.
At the Community Center, Big Todd rubbed his face. We were in his office, which was small and had a desk and a chair and books on a shelf. There was a basketball game going on in the gym, but getting a job to help Gert was more important and I told Big Todd that I needed his help.
“Hamsa has a job, so why can’t I have one?”
“You never acted interested before,” Big Todd said.
“I want one now. All Vikings have jobs, even if the job is fighting.”
“Well, I probably can’t get you a job fighting.”
He took out a binder from a drawer in his desk. It was gargantuan, with papers and plastic sheets hanging out. It flopped open like an accordion on the desk.
“Okay. So, we’re a bit late in the season. What type of stuff are you interested in? I mean, besides Vikings. We have partnerships with a few places.”
I thought about what I could say. “I like movies,” I said. “And reading Kepple’s Guide to the Vikings. And running and basketball.” I almost said, “Thinking about Marxy,” but that was not a job.
Big Todd wrote things down on his pad of paper, then started flipping through the book. “Okay,” he said. “Let me put in some calls. Does Gert know?”
“Gert is not part of this quest,” I said.
Big Todd nodded. “Okay. Fair enough.” He stopped flipping through the pages and made a teepee out of his hands. He blew out his cheeks.
Big Todd gave me papers to read with questions I was supposed to answer while he tried to figure out where I could work. The paper was called “Ten Things to Know Before Your First Job Interview.” The things to know were:
There was also a list of questions that an employer would ask in an interview. The article said I should know how to answer the questions before I tried to get the job. I made sure to practice what to say, which was what the “Ten Things to Know Before Your First Job Interview” article told me to do.
Question One: Why are you applying for this job?
I wrote that it was time I began contributing to the well-being of my tribe and that having a job will help me repay the tribe’s debts.
Question Two: What are your strengths as a worker?
Being a Viking, I am powerful and defeat enemies. I don’t give up during battles. I am a hard worker.
Question Three: What are some of your weaknesses as a worker?
I wasn’t sure what to say. I am not a very big person, but Gert says that I am a warrior.
Big Todd came in and told me that he had found me a job interview at the library, which was actually a perfect place for me to work.
“They said they might have a position.”
I looked up. “Really?”
Big Todd said that I should probably dress nicely for the interview. It was going to happen in two days.
“A real interview? Not practice?” I asked.
“Yes, ma’am. As for what to wear, it doesn’t have to be super fancy,” he said. “But it can’t be what you usually wear either. It’s important to dress for success.” When I asked what that meant, he said, “Think of when warriors go to fight. They have to wear armor. It’s what people who do battle wear, right? Well, people who go to job interviews wear skirts and nice blouses. Do you have any of those?”
I did have a skirt, but I had no blouse, which is a fancy shirt. “You should talk to Annie,” Big Todd said. “She can probably help.”
I called AK47 when I got home and almost forgot to take off my shoes.
“Hey, buttercup. What’s going on?” she said.
I felt like I was going to explode so I shouted into the phone, “I HAVE A JOB INTERVIEW AT THE LIBRARY.”
“Easy, homie,” she said. “I know. Big Todd called me. You have, what, a day and change until your interview?”
I counted. “Forty-three hours and forty-seven minutes,” I said, since the interview was early in the morning. She said that she had already cleared some time that afternoon to go shopping with me, since it was her day off.
Before she came I made sure to write a note saying to Gert that I was going to the mall with AK47 and stuck it to the table, where we usually stuck our notes. Then I shut my door and looked at the Word of Today, which was consultation, meaning to meet and discuss and “consult” with someone about a topic. I consulted myself about my closet. I had never had a job interview or a job before. The nicest clothes I had was a skirt that AK47 had lent me and forgot about and did not fit either of us anymore.
AK47 picked me up in her car and we went to the mall. The store she wanted to go to was The Gap.
We went inside and AK47 showed me three skirts to try on. The first two were black and loose and they did not fit. The third one was fancy and did fit.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s see you move in this thing.”
I walked out of the changing room and it was hard to walk. The fancy skirt was very tight. I told AK47 that it was definitely not for doing battle in.
“You got that right.” She came over and turned me around. “It looks good, though. It makes your ass look nice but not slutty.”
“We don’t want slutty,” I said.
“No. Definitely not for a job interview at the library.”
She also made me try on a bunch of different shirts, the kind that button up in the front. I liked the bright-pink one. She said blue was probably more professional.
“The funky colors, save those for special occasions. Strip shows, funerals, things like that. Here. Try this one.”
I started to ask why I would go to a strip show and then realized she was joking and laughed. Once we had picked out a skirt and blouse, she also got me a pair of pantyhose, which are like socks only they go all the way up your legs and you can kind of see through them. They make your legs look smooth.
“Which is what you want. You don’t want to have to be shaving your legs all the time.”
“I don’t shave my legs very much,” I said.
“Me neither. But if you’re going to be doing public work, you sometimes need to. It sucks, and pantyhose, whether you like them or not, are the things professional employers like the ones you’re after want to see.”
She showed me how to put them on. Then she showed me how to tuck the blouse into the pantyhose so that they smoothed out the blouse, and how the silver clasp above the zipper in the back made the skirt stay on. Once we were done, she stood back and looked at me.
She whistled.
“Not bad, not bad,” she said. “What do you think?”
The skirt was tight around my waist and the pantyhose felt like someone was squeezing me. AK47 said that was good, that was how it was supposed to feel.
“It’s the burden of our sex,” she said.
As a treat, AK47 paid for the clothes and said it was a loan when I tried to tell her that I had my own money in my hoard. “But if you really feel bad, you can pay me back with your first paycheck.”
“It’s a deal,” I said. “Vikings always pay their debts.”
We walked out with the shopping bags, and instead of leaving the mall AK47 took me to another store. It was a special place, she said. It sold underwear only, which was confusing, since I did not understand how you could have a whole store for something that nobody ever saw.
“Well,” AK47 said, “that’s not entirely true. Some people see the underwear, besides just you.” She said to trust her. “Come on,” she said, pulling me past naked mannequins who had only bright-colored bras and panties on. “We’re going deep.”
I had never been to a fancy underwear store. All the clothes were in small stacks. Pictures and posters of beautiful women in their underwear hung on the walls. It was weird, since the people shopping acted like they didn’t actually mean to be in there. Why did they act like they were in the wrong store? If you wanted to buy nice underwear, why would you pretend you don’t?
“Because people are afraid of sex,” AK47 said.
“I’m not.”
“No, but you’re not a complete Puritan either.”
“Marxy’s mom said they weren’t puritan-something at dinner.”
“It means prude. As in, uncomfortable with sex.”
“Like Gert.”
“Ha. In no universe is Gert a prude,” said AK47. She held up some underwear. They were bright red and lacy, which means you can see through them, sort of. “What do you think of these?”
She handed me the red lacy underwear. I stretched them and I could almost see my fingers right through them.
“Why would someone want to see through your underwear?”
“Because it’s sexy,” AK47 said.
“Did you wear sexy underwear for Gert?” I asked, and she laughed.
“Zee, your brother didn’t like me wearing any underwear.”
“Oh.”
She folded the underwear and put it back on the table. There were so many stacks of underwear and bras and other things I didn’t understand how to wear. It was like a zoo of underwear and sexiness.
The saleswoman came over and asked how we were doing. “Are you finding everything okay?”
“We’re not Puritans,” I said. “But we don’t want underwear we can see through.”
The saleswoman looked at AK47, who shrugged. “We’re looking for something not too slutty, but kind of provocative.”
She showed me a lot of different panties. I was surprised at how many types there were. At home, Gert had boxers, and I had panties that were either white or blue or green. Nothing lace or red or sexy. I could not imagine Gert finding any sexy underwear while doing our laundry. He would be very confused.
I took the underwear we found into the changing room.
I stared at myself in the mirror. The light above me was powerful and shone down on me like the sun. I patted my stomach. It was very hard from my Viking training. All of the women in the advertisements of the underwear store were tall and had big breasts. I tried to make my lips like theirs, pushing them out. Then I put on one pair of the underwear that the store woman gave me and the bra that was the same red. I turned around and around. Using my hands I tried to make my hair flat and turned to show the mirror my sexy pose.
“How’s it look?” The saleswoman knocked on the door. “Need a pair of eyes?”
She meant did I need someone to see. I opened the door and stood in front of her and told her I felt powerful.
“You look great,” she said.
AK47 was standing beside her and nodded. “A bit on the marm side,” she said, “but I like what I’m seeing.”
When we left the store, we decided to go to a movie together, to celebrate shopping. The movie was about a soldier who is not in a war anymore and has a lot of secrets that the Army doesn’t want the world to know. The Army kills the soldier’s family and he gets revenge. There was a lot of action and shooting and I did not like watching it and had to leave the movie theater.
AK47 found me in the parking lot outside of the theater. She sat down next to me on the curb, where it was quiet.
“Hey, I thought you liked action movies?” she asked.
I shrugged. I did. “Why do people buy guns if they aren’t going to do battle?”
“It gives them power, you know?” She put her arm around me. “Hey. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I said. But she gave me THE LOOK and I started crying, because I remembered about Toucan and Gert and the gun and the Midterm Exam and everything.
“Something’s going on. You’re doing the thing you do when you’re stressed out.” She touched my hand. “Come on. You can trust me.”
AK47 gave my hand another squeeze, and I felt like if I didn’t tell her I would explode.