From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
I’m slumping in the back of the car, the stiff denim of my low-rise jeans digging into my hips while I obsessively click the glossy white plastic of my Wii Remote. My thumbs are raw from *Wii Sports*, but I’m too busy trying to ignore my mom’s boring voice as she reads aloud from the paper about some drama at a railway coffee stand, a battle over what’s fair or whatever. I just crank the volume on my iPod to drown her out with Beyoncé, feeling the cold metal of the click-wheel against my palm. She starts asking about my plans for New Year’s, but honestly, it’s total tmi—I just want to text my peeps on my Razr and fade into my oversized fleece hoodie until we get home.