I remember the walk over there, and playing 10 fingers on the porch. I remember Laura lighting his cigarette in front of me, and how it made my face turn red.

Then I chased down the ice cream man with Anne still tied to my waist while Laura and Brian stayed on the porch.

I bought her a goddamned frozen treat and she didn't even say "thank you." If you're going to be a nasty asscrack you could at least be courteous to the person you're stepping on.

Have a little class.

You're so needy.

I remember those 15 minutes when he and I were alone and being silly. Fighting with the Sharpie markers. That warm feeling you get when someone likes you. It's very, very nice.

I accidently stepped on his dog. He didn't mind.

She did.

Direct quotation: "Megan. I think Anne needs your company on the porch. Goodbye."

Slam.

Then she convieniently turned herself into the victim for 2 and a half hours while Anne and me sat on the porch swing, listening to the non-English speaking neighbors have a Spanish music party and dance and yell at each other and tried to forget it.

Then we played frisbee, and Antonia and Thomas wanted us to help them break in their new crowbar. I was tempted to just walk into that room and bust a cap.

What. She would've done it to me.

That whole night was so bizarre. I could picture myself remembering it.

Watching Natural Born Killers halfway through and feeling like I was missing out on something...

"Um, yeah, well things are kind of weird now I guess. What am I supposed say to you? Is it okay to laugh?" - shared inner monolouge

Coming back there alone at midnight and sitting next to her on the couch.

Why are you there? You've had your fun.

Lets try to stick it out. Who can stay the longest at Brian Johnson's house? It'll be like an old western movie, ok? Wouldn't that be a load of fun?

You can be the bad guy with the handlebar moustache who smells of cheap liquor and smoke and I'll be the squeaky clean all-American cowgirl.

Go lock him up with you and slam the door in my face while the overly dramatic music plays.

Anne and me tested our wits at Trivial Pursuit, Simpsons trivia and random word association while Thomas sketched something and stared intensly into space and whatever went on in there went on.

When the world around you is falling apart, remember, there are always board games.

Then I started to fall asleep on the couch to hardcore punk music, about ready to burst because I'm tired of feeling the same old feelings.

But then that song came on; that beautiful song. Lift up your skinny wrists like antennas to heaven.

It's easy to cry with your eyes closed.

I want to go home, but it can't end like this.

The time is 4 o'clock a.m. Mr. and Mrs. Boyle; do you know where your child is?

Messsage deleted.

Well, I guess this is goodbye.

"Great to know you."

Walking back with my tail under my legs and feeling a somewhat comradery with Laura; trying to dig out that part of me that liked her because it would make this whole ordeal so much easier.

Guilt. Humiliation. The feeling after they pull the needle out of your arm. It almost hurts more than when you're initially pricked.

Coming back empty handed to an empty home.

Everyone left already. There was no safety blanket.

I've never been in serious trouble before that. The authorities can't get ahold of my parents. I can picture them sleeping peacefully, looking forward to see me, with "unsuspecting" tattooed on their foreheads.

And I feel like a shit.

I remember that nauseated feeling you get from smoking too much and staying up all night. We were all shaking in the morning.

"Betrayal" written by the R.C. on our beloved hall message board; customized torn down decorations.

Packing, listening to Belle and Sebastian, too many thoughts, too many emotions. Residual overload.

There is nothing more depressing than watching a tightly knit group fall apart. What with us being the only five left on the hall, and on sour terms to boot.

All over a boy. A boy who doesn't know how lucky he is.

It was the world's longest rollercoaster. Because it did somehow turn out nicely.

How did any of that happen? Was that just a dream?

Once upon a sunroof on the freeway...

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