The lot was filled with rows of parked cars packed with teens, bored and hungry. Two carhops roller-skated by with trays of cold dogs, soggy fries, and flat root beer. Georgianna Deats dropped a tray onto the ground. I knew from working a few shifts with her that it would be one of at least three dumped during her shift. Feigning exasperation, she’d bend over, showing off her black lace panties underneath a too-short pink uniform so she could slut it up with any guy who hadn’t had her. Georgianna was also the reason my ring finger was empty. Up ’til six months ago, I’d been wearing Tripp Seacat’s friendship ring. He’d given it to me on Liar’s Bench over a year ago and asked me to go steady with him. Promises were made and white lies were told. We’d shared our dreams and secrets, and talked about going to college together. We’d even talked about marriage. But then it changed and got ugly when he started hanging with the boozehounds. Six months ago, I’d tossed the pearl ring in his face after I caught him sitting on Liar’s Bench, trying to wriggle his way into Georgianna’s pants.
