Published Feb 22, 2006
One blonde freshman, in a white sweatshirt, in a white Corrolla, with the windows rolled up, teasing her eyelashes with a little round brush while looking in the lighted visor mirror, and listening to Ashlee Simpson’s La La at top volume, bopping her head the whole way (yet never mussing a lash). I grabbed my book bag, my gym bag, and my lunch bag from my car, put on my jacket and my iPod, arranged everything, and walked all the way to the stairs; she was still in her car.