BAGS by CLAIRO. Story by Jennifer Manoogian.
My name sounds different when she says it, and often, I ignore her the first time so I can hear her call it again.
My name sounds different when she says it, and often, I ignore her the first time so I can hear her call it again.
Craig Kirchner takes us to the drug store corner of his teenage years in Baltimore.
Fishing, though, was what brought most of us lads to the dam in the first place. Going out with our fathers and uncles back in the days when fishing was more about catching and eating, catfish and even carp.
Iām reading about an outbreak of laughter, /that broke out at a girlās school, /ended up involving the whole town,
Itād be almost another year of blasting it out on repeat though til the song actually got into my bones, got in there so deeply, that it took me by the hand and transported me into my new life.
Thereās nothing the policewoman can do. My witness is the cloudless sky, and I know heāll lie about it.
From Strauss to the Stones, I jammed my classroom with music, matching songs and symphonies to subjects, activities, and transitions.
The boys dare each other to read out loud the titles of the X-rated movies showing down the road, some claiming to have been snuck in there by mysterious older mates.
I heard a squeak from the seat beside me and looked across. Jen is pressed back in the burgundy velvet, eyes wide, a look of absolute horror on her face.
My initial impression of meeting Pete: older than me by a few years, he had a lean and hungry look and the physique of a whippet. His hair was cropped to a quarter of an inch, opposing the excessive locks of my brother and I, and, most dramatically, he wore an oversized metal safety pin through his ear.