From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
The scratchy denim of my low-rise jeans digs into my hips as I sprawl on the carpet, trying to brush the tangles out of my new Bratz doll’s synthetic hair. I’ve been humming that Janet Jackson hook all morning, checking my pager every five minutes while the dial-up modem shrieks in the next room. I’m supposed to meet my peeps at the theater, but some newbie in my chem class spoiled the gadget twist in *Spy Kids*, and now I’m too annoyed to even move. My fingers trace the smooth, cold plastic of my Discman as I contemplate just staying home and burning a CD instead.