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My Way or the Highway.


"Sawry Jessie."


The girls each grabbed an arm and lifted me up onto my feet.

"Thanks, doll," I said as I flipped the back of Jessica's skirt up, exposing her butt to the air.

"Are you sure you picked the right guy?" asked the brunette, patting her dress back down before sticking her tongue at me.

"I have my doubts now and then, but he's alright."

I break off from the girls to head over to the men's entrance of the barn. My high had mostly worn off now, and it was no longer math, but literature class, which I had a much easier time following.

Our fathers had hit quite a few bookstores and libraries during their trips El Pecado and Greenville proper, and it was easy to take as much as they wanted because books weren't a popular item during the hard years. We had plenty of fiction novels for our reading classes. The only problem was keeping them safe from worms and moths.

We had moved past Lowry and Rowling and the young adult series (god Twilight was just pure tedium), onto Steinbeck and Hemingway and much more difficult fare. The font was smaller, the words were difficult to read or understand, and we had to constantly pass around dictionaries. The guys would laugh whenever the girls started crying during a particular passage, but everyone at least slightly enjoyed the escape reading provided from our boring lives.

There weren't enough copies of each book for everyone to have one, so we'd have to split into groups of two or three to share. If the book was a classic, or a translation, or had undergone revisions, we'd all have different editions which made it harder to discuss the material.

"So, is Abra some kind of floozy? I mean, going after a guy's brother right after he leaves to fight in a war is hall-of-fame whore stuff." Vinnie leans back and taunts the girls.

"No!" responded more than a few annoyed female voices.

"She likes Cal because he struggles with his conscience. He has a dark side to him. Aron's only been good because he's too afraid to be bad."

"I ain't afraid to be bad, baby. Why don't you come over to my house this Saturday?"

"Why? So I can wash the spaghetti sauce out of your pants?"

Everyone started laughing at Vinnie. That was good. Everyone knew Vinnie's mother used to beat him when he was a kid for getting marinara on his clothes, which only made the girls tease him for it even more.

"Now, now, fellas. Let's get back to the book. We're almost finished," Farley interrupted, posing as the voice of reason.

"Shut up, Dirty-Shirt!" the girls yelled back at him. Dirty Shirt shrank away and stopped talking because he was a fat nerd who was terrified of girls. The name seemed like it was going to stick.

The girls could be terribly vicious and they would usually band together as a single team.

Luckily for me, once the girls knew Rachel and I were an item, they laid off of me (the same reason they left Magnus alone), though Jessica could bring them back for a round of heckling if I cheesed her enough.

Miss Fitzsimmons was pounding back whiskey in her rocking chair. It had something to do with migraines. As a result, she always had a big drop-off in energy from the morning to the afternoon, so the second half of class was a lot more structureless and chaotic.

Often, once Miss Fitz passed out, someone would drape a blanket over her and the rest of us would file out of class early.

The rest of the week followed much the same as all the other weeks, except the gang and I would hit some spliffs before class started, and I'd do more lovey-dovey stuff with Rachel during breaks. She invited me to dinner with her family.

This Saturday would be the first time I went over to her house since we got together. My mom was fussing over me non-stop before I left the house.

"Just be back by tomorrow morning!" She cried in the distance. She had given me permission to stay overnight since Ms. Turner was obviously not going to let anything happen to her daughter. Or daughters. I was the fox being let into the chicken coop, not Rachel.

I had on my cleanest shi