![]() ![]() Percent of surviving with Steve as your neighbor. Sometimes, if you ignored Steve for a minute, he moved onto someone else. ‘Drunken-monkey style, man, it’s a real f**king thing. ‘It so f**king does,’ Steve shouted back. ‘That doesn’t exist,’ somebody shouted behind him. Once he started driving to school, he could listen to whatever he wanted or nothing at all, and he’d get to sleep in an extra twenty minutes. His parents had already said Park could have his mom’s Impala, and he’d been saving up for a new tape deck. He could get back to New Wave in November, after he got his driver’s license. ![]() Or maybe he’d make a special bus tape with as much screaming and wailing on it as possible. Tomorrow he was going to bring Skinny Puppy or the Misfits. ![]() Park pressed his headphones into his ears. XTC was no good for drowning out the morons at the back of the bus. Making everyone else seem drabber and flatter and never good enough. Lying next to him just before he woke up. Standing behind him until he turned his head. Then he’d see that the girl’s hair was more blond than red.Īnd that she was holding a cigarette … And wearing a Sex Pistols T-shirt. ![]() Like, he’d be driving to work, and he’d see a girl with red hair standing on the corner – and he’d swear, for half a choking moment, that it was her. She only came back when she felt like it, in dreams and lies and broken-down déjà vu. ![]()
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