From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Tactile
I’m slouching in the passenger seat of Greg’s beat-up sedan, my palms sweaty against the rough, synthetic upholstery as "Low" thumps through the cheap speakers. I stare at the neon gas station sign, groaning because **$3.27** a gallon is straight-up highway robbery when we’re just trying to get to the theater to see *Vantage Point*. Greg just smirks at me from under his choppy, jet-black bangs, looking totally "scene" in his tight hoodie, and asks, "**Why so serious?**" I just mess with the velcro strap on my bag, wishing I had enough extra cash to grab that robot Wall-E toy I saw earlier instead of blowing it all at the pump.