Dear Jack

Next week is the first day of school of the 1991 year, and I am dreading it. Me and Theresa are hanging out in the thrift store “Grandma’s Closet”, in the down town district. Last year we were the freaks of the school, wearing “grandma dresses” and penny loafers, but we liked it that way. Our clothes and our attitudes defined the new and up coming underground music scene. No suburban kid would understand that.

Me and Theresa went out the store with our new clothes and sat down on a stop at some city house. Theresa lit a cigarette and offered me one, which I took without hesitation.
“What do you think this school year will be like?” Theresa asked blowing out smoke.
I tossed my long brown hair thinking, “Ha. Like all the rest.”
“It’s a shame school’s starting, it’ll really take out in our band practice.” She said taking a drag on her cancer stick.

Me and Theresa were in a band called “The Record Basher”, we were so stoked on it.

“Yeah-’’ I responded sidetracked.

A boy with long blonde hair just stopped and looked at us.
He held a bag full of tapes from the record shop.

“Can I help you?” Theresa asked snottily.
“Um, can I have a light?” He asked.
Theresa sighed and got her lighter out of her bag.
The whole time he kept his eyes on me.
“Hey, I’m Jack”