Evie

She thought about her first day of college. The apprehension, the insecurity, the terror mixed with elation that had washed over everyone. The freedom, the permission to reinvent yourself – to break out and explore...

And she thought about the way Sophie had tasted that first time, years ago, the way her snatch had seized Claire's tongue when she came then, spilling sweetness all over her face. It seemed so long ago. It hadn't been the last time. Nor would this be, Claire could see now, with an assuredness, a clarity, that only came with experience – from no longer fearing the fleetingness of the moment.

She smiled down at Sophie's cunt, ready to eat the Wow.

All by herself.

7.

Claire and Sophie headed to the parking lot with shopping bags in each hand.

"Obviously," Claire said, not surprised to spot Evie one last time, sitting on the mouth of a fountain, by herself. There were others, girls like her, sitting around. But none were from Evie's squad; none of them were her Sarahs.

What happened to the girls? Claire wondered (But of course, she already knew...).

"You want me to go over there," Sophie said, "Kick the crap out of her? I will, you know. Don't let my size fool you." She pinched her face and threw up her fists.

Claire gave her a smile, knowing enough not to be fooled by her size.

"I'm like Scrappy Doo," Sophie continued. "See, first there was this cartoon called Scooby Doo..."

"I know who Scrappy Doo is," Claire said with a playful nudge, her gaze returning to Evie. "I'm going over there," she decided. "I have to say something." And she was off, already in front of the girl before Sophie had a chance to respond.

"Hey, Yo..." Claire said to Evie, catching herself before she called her "Yogurt Bitch." For all she knew, that was Evie's nickname for her.

But there appeared no sign of recognition when she looked up into Claire's face. She brushed her bangs aside, allowing Claire to really see her eyes for the first time - pretty, but exhausted. Her cheeks were glowing, her hoop earrings missing, her dark lipstick wiped clean – all of which made her so much... softer. Gone, too, was her pouting, her disregard, her command; without a crew or a uniform, she was suddenly without context. Just another pretty face sitting on the ledge, far from being aware.

"'Hey yo,' yourself," Evie said to the shadow that Claire cast over her.

Claire opened her mouth to speak, but didn't, her eyes transfixed on a single torn thread on Evie's shorts, where a button used to be.