They were something like a gang, fiercely loyal and combative and secretive and united above all by a hatred of society. And I wanted to be one of them.It was a miserable day in June when I gathered up my courage. Rainy, but the hot, sticky kind that only serves to make you sluggish and anxious and maybe give you a headache. College had let out, but I was killing brain cells all the same as a grocery store cashier. I pushed myself through morning with the thought of my midday cig break, but it was hardly a relief once it came, slumped out back behind the store in the sticky heat, dumpsters festering beside me. I felt sick and dizzy, and the cigarette was like a cheap knock-off of nepenthe, just barely enough to dull the urge to slit my throat with my “Hello, my name is” pin. I felt anxious and uneasy and uncomfortable, like there was an itch stuck underneath my skin that wouldn’t go away. I kind of felt like jacking off behind the dumpster, too, but I’m not sure if it was more. Her face was pale, and she crossed her arms to hide her trembling hands. Ron looked up, realized she’d heard everything he’d said, and started to sputter. ‘Oh, Connie, I didn’t . . . I mean, I–‘ ‘Just get out!’ ‘Connie–‘ Ron tried one more time. ‘She said leave.’ Simon stood up. At six foot two, he could look pretty intimidating when he wanted to, and right now, he wanted to. ‘Get out of here, and don’t ever talk to her again.’ ‘Fine.’ Ron snarled. ‘I was only doing you a favor, anyway. Not many guys want a fat chick, let alone one with a deformed leg.’ He turned and stalked out, slamming the door behind him. Good riddance, Simon thought. He looked like a ferret. Not to insult ferrets. x-x-x-x For a few moments, Connie could only hear her own heart beating in the silence. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even think. She kept her arms crossed in front of her as though they were holding her body together. ‘Connie.’ Simon started over to her. That snapped her back. She shook her head, backed.
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