“Let’s do this forever,” Jane said. She tore bits of stale bread into the manicured grass.
“What? Feed birds on fancy lawns?” I laughed.
“You know what I mean, Hannah.”
I turned the stereo up. The decibel meter read way above county ordinance.
An old man in a robe opened his door. He screamed to his cell about the noise.
“Whoops. Spotted. Time to jam,” I said.
She drove. Squealed tires, drove exactly 8 mph above the limit. Our lives had changed so much since we read the book.
Have You Considered a Life of Petty Crime?
Well, have you?