238 < 30 > IN BED John drove her home after school nearly every day. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. She fled. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. Berserker, Spurlock rose, head down, and charged. My, um, my curfew. He walked on for an hour longer, till he could scarcely drag one leg after another. God must love me, for he has guided me here.
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