Genre: Young Adult
Title: Hashtag Witness
I eyed them each suspiciously. “Do you guys want me to completely nut up over this? You’ve both been up there. Nothing remotely exciting ever happens—that’s kind of the point. It’s a place to just go and relax.”
Sanjay waved a hand. “Forget I brought it up.” He immediately switched gears, leaning in close to whisper, “1985 called and asked Laurel to return that big hair!”
I laughed, agreeing that I’d seen Delta jets with a smaller wingspan than Laurel’s hair—but not completely forgetting the unnerving conversation about the serial killer's proximity to the very place we’d be heading in just a few days.
Pantyhose? Really? Even my own mother calls them stockings, and she’s cool with me not wearing them. It isn’t 1922 anymore, and I seriously doubt my bare legs offend any normal un-snobbish person under the age of seventy. So I just smiled, thanked the woman for her concern, and went on about my business in my bare legged glory. But still, it completely gets on my last nerve.
Why doesn’t she worry about her own son Edwin, who grabbed my hand and pulled me into an empty room on our first here to ask me for a blow job? It seems to me that propositioning the new minister’s daughter for oral sex is a bigger disgrace than a lack of hosiery. But of course, I didn’t work up the nerve to tell the woman about her son’s special interest in me—even when she asked me in her fake syrupy voice if Edwin was making me feel welcome. Oh, he made me feel welcome, all right.