Crank (Crank 1)

What could I do but ask her opinion?

In my opinion, you’ve got one nasty

infection. Did you sterilize the needle?

Thinking back, I wasn’t so sure.

But I said, “Of course he did.”

He did, huh? Your hard-bodied,

dark-haired dream boy did this?

So then I had to tell her everything.

Except I left out about the monster.

Well, I hope that’s the only infection

he gave you, in love or no.

So then I got my back up. Played

defense to her quarterback sneak.

No need to get your back up.

I was just kidding, and of course

girls can carry STDs too.

So then Bree felt much better, while

Kristina felt really bad.

I know you’re sorry. No worries.

Let’s chalk it up to jet lag.

Brain Lag

described it better,

synapses quieting, gray

matter shutting down, except

the pain center part, Leigh’s elementary

nursing—alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, and a

dab of Neosporin—had only managed to make

the aching mess hurt even more, although

she probably killed off a germ or two.

At least, lost in the center