Baby & the Bone: Vol. I

He wouldn’t sell me the pills, instead, Val raises an eyebrow asking me “That’s your little sister?”

And cue Lilian crossing her legs and re-applying fuschia pink lip balm to her perma-pout. Across the cafeteria, surrounding her are all the other babies in circle formation.

Unlike the others, I still remain stuck with the bitch once summer’s ended and everyone’s gone home from camp. So after a while, you become desensitized to every one of Lil’s calculated and careful moves: for example, her beanstalk legs crossed neatly so her Burberry check skirt just barely curtains over white cotton panties.

And for your information, her pubic hair is waxed fresh in the shape of a heart, only something a 15-year-old girl would pick out.

You’ll also realize Lil’s a fake, acting as if her ink black hair, freckled pink skin hasn’t stolen the attention from every baby and counselor here. I know she knows, but the thing about Lil is she doesn’t care.

Except about Val. You see, I’ll never get what made him different.

I answer him, “Yeah, but she’s worth way more than a few anxiety pills.”