When I raise my head, everything around me looks different. The bar is darker, the faces of my friends are unsmiling. And I’ve made the decision to see what it is about Grindr that keeps everyone so stuck to their phones.
It’s Molly’s ‘go to hell’ attitude flowing through me when I tell off Rachel’s grandfather for misgendering her in public and refusing to accept her — for putting conditions on his love.
Nick was the Diablo to my Cain. Only the red skin, horns, and lordship over the underworld were missing. In their place was a skinny, hatchet-faced kid who was bigger and stronger than me and as mean as the Lord of Terror himself.
They let him die. They left a man without his father, a wife without her husband, and Amy and me without our Grandaddy Lee. It’s their fault he’s gone.
Diana Ross and Crystal Gayle had a Beautiful Hair Baby, and she has great clothes and the fierce confidence of a thousand 3rd graders. She is terrifying.
I have to be friends with her.
In the mirror, I’m a barely recognizable 98 pounds — “Olsen-twin chic” as I call it. But there’s nothing chic about this at all. I’ve been self-destructive, chasing pretenses of glamour — and for what? I’m disgusted with myself.
There’s that disorienting feeling again, and Dane and I are walking home from school. I remember this day well. The school bully, Mike, is following us. I know what happens next.
I’m not Arya. I’m Sansa. Many GRRM readers hate her; she’s stupid and naive. She is used as a pawn by everyone. But I understand and love Sansa deeply, because her story is my own.
Apparently the boys felt ripped off that the “Thank You for all your help” drinks they had bought me at the Clubhouse bar had not purchased my pussy. Or even a BJ in an empty stall.
