Rant

crazy people to be very attractive.
    LouAnn Perry: Buster didn’t never get me pregnant, but he gave me rabies plenty often. First time, standing under the mistletoe at the school Christmas pageant, fifth grade. One kiss, me wearing my red velvet jumper with underneath it a white blouse, standing in the middle of the front row onstage, and singing “Oh Holy Night,” singing notes sweet as any angel, my hair blond as angel hair in curls going halfway down my back, me the picture of sweetness—and I had rabies.
    Courtesy of Buster Casey.
    Dr. David Schmidt: In all fairness, I can’t blame all the infections on that one boy, but we haven’t had a single case of rabies since Buster Casey left town.
    LouAnn Perry: Loads of girls went rabid my exact same way. Maybe half our class, freshman year. Brenda Jordan blamed her rabies on bobbing for apples during a Halloween party, taking her turn behind Buster, but fact is—she kissed him.
    Buster Casey was for some girls what snakes was for him. A kind of place your folks tell you never to go. But a kind of small mistake that’ll save you from a bigger mistake later on.
    Mistakes like kissing Buster, most times it’s a worst mistake if you don’t make them. After a good-looking boy gives you rabies two, three times, you’ll settle down and marry somebody less exciting for the rest of your life.
    Echo Lawrence: For our second date, Rant wanted to rake up leaves in a park. One of the surefire ways to contract rabies is to mess with bats. Look under enough leaves and you’ll find a bat to bite you. Keep that in mind the next time you go to jump in a pile of dead leaves.
    LouAnn Perry: History is, that boy was very popular. Except maybe with his daddy.
    Shot Dunyun: How weird is that? A sexually conflicted thirteen-year-old rattlesnake-venom junkie with rabies—well, it’s safe to say that’s every father’s worst nightmare.
    LouAnn Perry: History is, Buster Casey was the kind of mistake a girl needs to make while she’s still young enough to recover.
    Bodie Carlyle: Us out in that desert, three horizons apart from the rest of the world, Rant’s still looking into my eyes, saying, “You feel a heartbeat?”
    Me, feeling fur. Petting fur. Underground. Buried. That hand of me still pale as bone. Slippery with the smell of meatloaf grease. Me in the sun, sunburned, I still nod yes.
    Rant smiling, he says, “Don’t pull out.”
    The feel of that fur, soft and warm, until—kah-pow—the punch of something pushing through the slack between my thumb and next finger, that web of skin there sunk through with something sharp, and my arm shaking so hard it hammers the tunnel walls already tight around my elbow, far up as my shoulder, me collarbone-deep in pain and trying to pull out.
    Rant’s hands around my chest from behind, hauling me out of the ground.
    The hole in my hand, not two punched marks. Not the little horseshoe of a coyote bite. The blood’s pulsing out just one hole, big and straight across.
    Rant, looking at the blood and the dripping straight-across hole, he says, “You been bit.” He says, “Jackrabbit bit.”
    Both of us trickling blood out of little holes in our hands and feet, watching our blood leak out in the sand under the hot sun, Rant says, “This here,” he says, “far as I’m concerned, this is how church should feel.”
    8–Pacing
    Wallace Boyer ( Car Salesman): Your truly effective car salesman, he hands you his business card, first thing. That salesman says hello, tells you his name, and gives you his card, because human behavior studies show that 99 percent of customers use the business card as their excuse to exit the dealership. Most car buyers, if they hate you, even hate your cars, they still feel bad for wasting your time. If they can ask for your card, the customer feels better about bailing out. You want to trap most shoppers, you hand them your card the minute you meet them: They can’t escape.
    In the first forty-three seconds you meet a stranger, experts in human behavior say that, just by looking at them, you decide their income, their age, their brains, and if you’re going to respect them. So a smart salesman wears a decent suit. He doesn’t scratch his scalp and then smell his fingernails.
    A landmark study, out of Cal State LA in 1967 and proved a bunch of times since then, it says 55 percent of human communication is based on our body language, how we stand or lean or look each other in the eye. Another 38