"Where is this law saying we can't sit there?" I turned to face Gretch. Gretchen Bernadette was my best friend. We're both what the cliques would cal... geeks or dorks. Gretch certainly was never afraid to dress the part. She had black hair that she rarely combed, wore thick black glasses over her brown eyes, was white skinned, and had the regular amount of pimples like everyone our age. She always had a smile on her face, even when being mocked by the other, more popular girls. I never. And, of course, my being blinded by greed for more sex, and eventually with men who were virtual strangers, must have seemed continually more and more repugnant to her.I still can hardly believe how thoroughly she bugged our bedroom suite. A lot of good those expensive locks did. I can’t rid my mind of that guy, whose name I can’t even remember, pounding me into the bed, all in high-def. You could count every drop of sweat on my forehead. And she had the scene from multiple angles. I must have. More

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