A published chapter from my working memoir, Raver Princess. Chapter titled, Supergirl. Page 61!
Clayton was wearing a big goofy smile when he plopped into my white '76 VW Beetle.
“Hi doll face,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. He tasted more like cigarettes than weed this afternoon.
“Hi! So, are you going to tell me where we're going? And what my second birthday present is?”
“We're going to my friend Dave's place. He wants to be a tattoo artist. We've talked about getting tattoos, and I really want you to be there when I get my first one. And if you want one, it's my treat.”
That morning I woke up more nervous for him than me. His first gift was a hand-drawn graffiti piece with my name in a bubble-letter style. All weekend I'd been admiring “Samantha” on thick, fancy paper alive in red, silver, and purple colored pencil. The art was polished, and the gift was thoughtful—I could tell it took him hours to create, and I was planning on framing it. It would be hard to up himself with another (affordable) present; he didn't have the money for the new pair of Adidas kicks I wanted, and Clayton's idea of dining out was a trip to Taco Bell.
“Oh really?” I said, gripping my furry zebra print steering wheel. I stared at the street ahead of us, unsure I wanted to move forward.
Read the rest.