A snippet from this month's column:
Lindy arrived at school breathless. Her hair, normally parted according to stringent standards and combed to a lovely smoothness now lay tossed about her head like a cyclone had hit. She had to pee. Again. She'd just left the house and yet there was the urge nagging at her. Slipping inside, the cool dark school interior embraced her, inviting the girl into its quiet privacy. She rushed down the hallway to the restroom and slipped in swiftly along with the dark currents she rode on.
In the tiny bathroom, the air was suffocating. Cigarette smoke assaulted her throat, burning and choking. The startled faces of her classmates snapped her to reality.
"Lindy, what the hell? I guess you're going to report us for smoking in here." Brenda Longshore waved the ciggie through the air as she spoke, using it for emphasis. One angry blue eye made its way glaring through the haze.
"I won't tell."
"Yeah, like we believe you. The biggest goody two-shoes in the school."
Lindy flushed with embarrassment. Why did people call her that? "I'm not gonna tell. I promise," she stammered. Read more