Gooning
“Feet should be recategorized as a private part,” he said, wiggling his toes in his new sandals. The ones he claimed to want every summer but rarely wore. He looked down at the sandals doubtfully. Exasperated by his ever-growing feet, I’d gotten him Fakenstocks this year. “I don’t want someone gooning to my feet.”
“People goon to everything,” I said, “Mascots. Dog buttholes. Women’s armpit fat. You can’t make all of it private.” But probably not men’s size 11 feet, I thought dryly. At 13, he already had man-sized feet. He was a puppy with overgrown paws.
“What do girls goon to?” His eyes peered at me quizzically. I shifted uncomfortably. I want him to feel like he can ask me things, but this skirted the line.
He answered for me. “It’s hands, isn’t it. Veiny hands,” he said confidently. Elena, in his class, had said once that she liked strong hands, veiny hands. And Elijah, another classmate, immediately sent her a picture of his hands. “I have veiny hands!” He said excitedly to the boys around him. The 8th grade version of a UDP.*
“And forearms,” I said, remembering that scene from The Other Bennet Sister, where Mary is scandalized and intrigued when Mr. Hayward rolls up his sleeves. A Victorian thirst trap. “Strong forearms,” I added, deciding that being specific was important here.
“Gooner forearms!” he said.
“What?” I started to laugh.
“Gooner forearms,” he repeated. “I’ll have to tell Ethan (our neighbor and classmate) he still has a chance with the girls,” he said as he wandered away.
*UDP: Unsolicited Dick Pic. The bane of every single woman’s existence on dating apps.