I even thought I heard her giggle once, but when I went to the stacks where I had heard the sound, no one was there. The library was a lonely place to be on this day, and I was grateful when the door opened, even if it was Kennie who walked through it. We hadn’t seen each other since she had melted a little on my couch in July. “I see you’ve pissed off God. It’s a growing club.” “What?” The question was as much directed at her outfit as at her statement. She was dressed in head to toe leather, from the animal skin do-rag holding back her brittle platinum hair to the Bedazzled vest to the chaps-over-tight-leather pants that would make Cher feel exposed. I looked over her shoulder at the shimmering heat rising off the paved parking lot and back at her tightly sealed, oily body. All I could think was “mushroom farm.” She thrust a stapled sheaf of papers at me. “See for yourself.” Her outrageously orange lipstick curled in a smile, nearly colliding with her Anna Nicole fake eyelashes.
