I’m shoved into the backseat, the scratchy spandex of my neon leggings rubbing against the cold vinyl as Dad rants about paying **$1.19** at the pump. He’s obsessed with the Padres making the World Series, but I just want to drown out his cheering with my Walkman before I have to go to school and deal with more pep rally garbage.
The rough cotton of my oversized sweatshirt feels like a security blanket, though the way my scratchy wool leg warmers keep slipping is enough to make me say **"gag me with a spoon."** I distract myself by clicking the stiff plastic joints of my new Transformer, the sharp edges digging into my palms while Stevie Wonder’s latest hit hums through my foam-covered headphones.
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The Headlines
PADRES AGAIN OVERCOME CUBS AND GAIN THEIR FIRST PENNANT