In for a penny, in for a pound
'C'mon guys, this is serious!'
'Shut up, Tara,' Robbie said, pausing mid-noogie from his position atop Samuel. The latter struggled in vain amid the distraction.
The sun hung over the western horizon, resting on the business towers of central Graceburg, although the five of us were wallowing deep in early evening shadow beneath the East-Side Bridge--and even deeper in the filth that had become the Shanduc River.
'Uggh, I still can't believe the smell!'
Chelsea, rich snob. Mind as empty as her old man's vault is full. Her only desire is to get her M.r.s. degree so she can have a Mexican nanny raise her flock of clones while she spends days in fashionable boutiques and nights at fashionable parties.
'I thought that was your perfume.'
Robbie again. Or 'Rob' as I'm sure he calls himself while hanging out with the nowhere crew in the parking lot during classes.
'Hey, shut it butt wipe!'
Enter the knight in shining armor, Matt; Chelsea's number one. By which I mean that she was stringing along at least five and Matt was currently leading the race.
'And get off of Poindexter. Some of us would actually like to leave this filth today.'
Yep, we had one of those here too. Poindexter, aka Samuel, the stereotypical geek. Cute in a kind of coke-bottle glasses, would rather program than go out, pocket-protector way. Okay, yeah, I have a thing for him. A little thing. But it would never work. I'm too much the tomboy, the outdoors, love-life-and-leave-the-planet-for-next-generation type.
Oh, by the way, I'm Tara, the only one who cares about this project.