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It was full. ‘How’d you manage that?’ I asked. ‘Friends,’ she smiled. ‘They got my books from each of my classes since I was home ‘sick’ yesterday.’ ‘You have friends?’ Tiffany interjected. That was weird. I almost forgot she and Brad were still standing there. That was obviously part of the reason why Tiffany was being such a bitch. ‘Ouch,’ Tara said, looking at my girlfriend. ‘That hurt.’ ‘You look it,’ I grinned. Her delivery was perfect. It let Tiffany know just how little Tara cared what my girlfriend thought. ‘On the inside,’ Tara explained. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. ‘John!’ Tiffany snapped. ‘I don’t see what’s so funny!’ ‘Dude,’ Brad said. ‘What’s up with you?’ ‘Funny is funny,’ I shrugged, and then changed the subject. ‘Let’s get to gym before the bell rings.’ I took that moment to pull my gym bag from my knapsack before shoving the latter into my locker. ‘See you later Tara.’ ‘Later Johnny,’ she said, causing me to frown. No one called me Johnny. I hated the name, but. Sitting on a bench on the midway, Steve could see the trash all around - candy wrappers, drink cups, a few religious brochures, and, looking directly down, a used condom. *Not Great America.* he thought. Tinny music came from the cracked speakers under the Tilt-A-Whirl across the way. Looking at the chipped and faded paint, marred here and there by rust spots, Steve, who fancied himself a poetic soul at times, likened it to a pathetic attempt at a song of seduction sung by a wrinkled whore, long past her prime. *A whore,* he thought dejectedly. *That's what I'll have to find.* He had tried all of his own lines on the girls here, and then the ones his friends swore always worked. He'd even tried Joey's "How YOU doin'?" that always worked on Friends. Nothing. Zero, zip, nada. He had thought that maybe the carnival atmosphere might make the girls more receptive to his charms, but that had not been the case. Like every other Saturday night since puberty, Steve found himself womanless..
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