I sit cross-legged on my bed reading a book about random facts. The pages in my book are worn, some are torn, and pink sticky notes protrude from several pages. I move the bookmarks around when I find new favorite facts. “That does nothing for me.” Natalie slides into my pink plush chair, which she’s moved to the center of my room. “What are we doing tonight?” “Fieldhouse?” Vianna looks hopeful. Vianna has secured her favorite seat, my desk chair. It’s wooden, small, and uncomfortable. She likes to sit by the desk close to the corner with her knees bent and her arms wrapped around them. “No. Just because you like skinny boys doesn’t mean we need to suffer.” Natalie sulks deeper into the circular seat. “Stairs?” Natalie says. “No,” I say. I don’t need to think twice about going there. I hate that place. Stairs is the newest name of the underground teen club in Pine Gulch.
