Buck Teeth
By Kathy Garr
The first time that I fell in love with the flag twirlers was in Junior High, when the local high school visited our assembly. As the band played the music, the flag girls marched in from the back, up both sides of the halls with their flags. They twirled, and tossed, and caught their white and blue flags right to the beat of the music.
I was so impressed. OHHHHH, how I longed to be one of “those” girls. It seemed an impossible dream since those girls stood so tall. Poise and polish were evident in every toss, catch, and turn. I had two problems that awakened me from that dream: a protruding bucktooth and its identical twin. These teeth dominated my entire life. The mirror showed me my teeth daily, so smiles and joy were almost non-existent. I could barely face myself let alone take on a public role of a flag twirler.
Tryouts for the next season would occur at the end of spring, the end of my freshman year. My older sister, Tracy, encouraged me. She said, “Kathy, you can do it. Those girls are no better than you are. I will help you.” I had 4 months to prepare.
We practiced every single day, on the small grassy area in front of our apartment. Tracy coached me, “Point your toes, don’t look down. Smile.”
We laughed, I had to smile, I couldn’t close my mouth with my two buck teeth. She was there to keep me positive and to be sure when I tossed my flags high in the air I didn’t break a window or one of my teeth. The only thing worse than two buck teeth is one buck tooth and an empty space beside it.
Here it was, the day I was waiting for: tryouts in the gymnasium. Five girls, all vying for one open spot. No one made a sound as the judges wrote their final notes. I slid my shaking hands under my legs on the bench and tapped my foot.
A judge handed a folded piece of paper to the leader: the secret ballot. “Our new flag girl is… Christine Benson.”
Christine? My shoulders dropped.
The girls were jumping up and down and hugging Christine, screaming in that high-pitched girlie-girl voice, “Oh, congratulations.”
Christine shrieked, “Thank you, I’m so excited.” Jump, jump, jump, her pleated skirt bobbed up and down as she danced the “goofy-chick hop.” It was disgusting.
I thought to myself, What did you expect? Did you really think they would pick you? The cheerleaders and flag twirlers are the popular girls, the ones with personalities. You know the real reason… those big-ass buck teeth.
I looked for my sister in the audience. Our eyes met. I thought, All the lessons, practicing, and carrying around those heavy flags on the long walk to and from school, for nothing.
Then I heard the crackling of the loudspeaker: “Kathy Garr, YOU are our new Banner Carrier!”
Yeah! The Banner Carrier. Even though it is second place, it is a steppingstone to becoming a real flag twirler. I popped up off my seat. It was my turn to dance the goofy-chick hop, “Oh thank you, thank you!” It was disgusting, but this time…, it was disgustingly delicious.
I will gladly be a flag girl “in training,” and I will proudly hold the big heavy banner with our blue and white school colors in front of our squad during the games and parades. High School will be so much better now that I get to be friends with “those girls”.
Just because I made the team, I was not one of “those girls.” This reality hit me when a fellow flag twirler, Bobbi, said she would pick me up to go to the beach with her one Sunday.
I thought in a panic, Oh no, to our family apartment? Where I live? Our tiny two-bedroom apartment where we cram in six kids and two parents?
Bobbi lived in a two-story house. Her older brother was the quarterback of the football team. She was active in government at school; everyone loved her. Who wouldn’t, with her tall stature, soft blond hair, and blue eyes?
My plan was to cut Bobbi off at the end of the driveway- before she could come in and witness our mess, but she arrived early. I was upstairs in the bedroom I shared with Tracy when I heard the patio gate open downstairs. Darn, she is early. I grabbed my beach towel and purse. As I rushed down the stairs, I could tell by my dad’s laughter that he was smitten by her beauty.
“Well, hello young lady,” my dad charmed her. Luckily, he was sober that day.
Bobbi sucked up the admiration and yet was humble at the same time. She already knew how to handle men falling for her. As I turned the corner, Bobbi said, “I tried to call you to tell you I was on my way, but your phone said it was out of order.”
My dad answered before I could, “Oh, you know that damn phone company. You don’t have to call, come over anytime.”
Please don’t, I thought.. He motioned to Bobbi, “Come, have a seat.”
Oh man. He is never going to let us leave.
Bobbi thought fast on her feet, “We are meeting some friends, so we have to get going.”
Dad answered, “Well, Bobbi, it was such a pleasure meeting you. Come back when you can stay a while. You’re alright in my book!” He always said that. He could be charming when he wanted to be.
I stood in the doorway with the door open, I could not get out of there fast enough. What was I thinking when I joined the flag team? I do not fit in with these girls.
As we got into Bobbi’s brown hatchback Pinto, I smelled her Coppertone tanning oil. She said, “Your dad is so nice.”
“Thanks.”
I was relieved that Bobbi was so easy to talk with. It was unusual for me to have to carry on a conversation, since most of my time was spent with my older sister, Tracy, and her friends. They did all the talking and let me just be there. Luckily, Bobbi asked questions and I was comforted. Would she be so kind about my smoking? I was craving a cigarette.
“Do you mind if I smoke?” I asked.
“Nope…, as long as you have one for me.” She looked over at me with a wink in her eye.
What? Bobbi, the most popular girl in school, a flag twirler, in school government and dance, a smoker! Oh, hallelujah. I loved this girl. I reached into my purse and lit a Virginia Slim for her. Watching her take a puff, I thought, She could be a model or on TV.
I lit a cigarette for myself.
She went on, “Now that you are on the team, you don’t have to quit smoking, but you do have to hide it. Mr. Bush (the band director), says we are the face of the school, and we want to keep a clean image.”
Hiding my smoking would absolutely not be a problem. I was a pro; I had been hiding family secrets my entire life.
Bobbi went on, “You should have won the flag girl position, you are better than Christine.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It is just that Christine is a senior and you still have three years. That’s why they picked her. You will make it for sure next year.”
I smiled, hoping that was the truth. “Thanks.”
She turned up the dial on the radio set on 93 KHJ. Steve Perry, of the rock band Journey, was singing “Lovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin” She cranked it up. We sang together:
“… ‘Cause he’s lovin’, touchin’ another,
now it’s your turn girl to CRY!”
Screaming out the CRY was always fun, then the most creative lyrics ever, the last of the one hundred fifty-four na-na’s:
“… Na na na na na na, na na na na na.”
We were two happy girls bonding with cigarettes and music, making our way to Huntington Beach. I forgot all about my buck teeth.
We eventually had to give up the Virginia Slims, but we never had to give up on our friendship.
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