Glass (Crank 2)

pumps, make coffee and hot dogs. Three

weeks and three days of Kevin’s leers

[not to mention “accidental” gropes]

and semirude comments about

the growing appeal of my shrinking

behind. It even looks good covered

by a smock! A nasty green smock,

over looser and looser jeans.

Not that I’ve been into the monster—

not much, anyway. I only have a tiny bit

left, and I haven’t looked to score

more. I only take a quick toke or two

when Hunter doesn’t sleep through

the night and I have to be at work

by seven. Quarter till, actually, but I rarely

punch in before 7:03 or 7:04.

The job isn’t bad, actually. Not great.

Not life-changing. But not as boring

as I thought it would be. At least

it’s around people. Some I even know.

Old classmates. Old teachers. [Really

old, most of them.] Old party pals.

And hey. Tomorrow is my first paycheck.

How will I celebrate? Hmm.

I have definitely vacillated about

scoring again. I want to. Don’t want to.

Need to. Can’t. Bree is screaming

for the monster. Kristina keeps trying

to say no. But somewhere deep inside

she thinks Bree will win.