my Uncle Alfred-broad shoulders, big bones, a heavy jaw-and from my Aunt Martha the boys got their blondness, and their aristocracy. But the broad shoulders, the big bones, and the heavy jaw-these were less attractive on Hester, who did not receive either my aunt's blondness or her aristocracy. Hester was as dark and hairy as Uncle Alfred-even including his bushy eyebrows, which were actually one solid eyebrow without a gap above the bridge of the nose-and she had Uncle Alfred's big hands. Hester's hands looked like paws. Yet Hester had sex appeal, in the manner-in those days-that tough girls were also sexy girls. She had a large, athletic body, and as a teenager she would have to straggle with her weight; but she had clear skin, she had solid curves; her mouth was aggressive, flashing lots of healthy teeth, and her eyes were taunting, with a dangerous-looking intelligence. Her hair was wild and thick.
'I have this friend,' I told Hester that evening. I thought I would begin with her, and try to win her over-and then tell Noah and Simon about Owen; but even though I was speaking
quietly to Hester and I thought that Noah and Simon were engaged in finding a lost station on the radio, the boys heard me and were instantly curious.
'What friend?' Noah said.
'Well, he's my best friend,' I said cautiously, 'and he wants to meet all of you.'
'Fine, great-so where is he, and what's his name?' Simon said.
'Owen Meany,' I said as straightforwardly as possible.
'Who?' Noah said; the three of them laughed.
'What a wimp name!' Simon said.
'What's wrong with him?' Hester asked me.
' 'Nothing's wrong with him,'' I said, a little too defensively. 'He's rather small.'
'Rather small,' Noah repeated, sounding very British.
'Rather a wimp, is he?' said Simon, imitating his brother.
'No, he's not a wimp,' I said. 'He's just small. And he has a funny voice,' I blurted out.
'A funny voice!' Noah said in a funny voice.
'A funny voice?' said Simon in a different funny voice.
'So he's a little guy with a funny voice,' Hester said. 'So what? So what's wrong with him?'
'Nothing!' I repeated.
'Why should anything be wrong with him, Hester?' Noah asked her.
'Hester probably wants to molest him,' Simon said.
'Shut up, Simon,' Hester said.
'Both of you shut up,' Noah said. 'I want to know why Hester thinks there's something wrong with everybody.'
'There's something wrong with all of your friends, Noah,' Hester said. 'And every friend of Simon's,' she added. 'I'll just bet there's something wrong with Johnny's friends, too.'
'I suppose there's nothing wrong with your friends,' Noah said to his sister.
'Hester doesn't have any friends!' Simon said.
'Shut up!' Hester said.
'I wonder why?' Noah said.
'Shut up!' Hester said.
'Well, there's nothing wrong with Owen,' I said. 'Except he
s small, and his voice is a little different.'
'He sounds like fun,' Noah said pleasantly. 'Hey,' Simon said, patting me on the back. 'If he's your friend, don't worry-we'll be nice to him.'
'Hey,' Noah said, patting me on the back, too. 'Don't worry. We'll all have fun.'
Hester shrugged. 'We'll see,' she said. I had not kissed her since Easter. In my summer visit to Sawyer Depot, we had been outdoors every waking minute and there'd been no suggestion to play 'Last One Through the House Has to Kiss Hester.' I doubted we'd get to play that
