Michael Malone - Weebly

flesh in her mouth, so when it sprang away from her,
she grabbed it without thinking, pulled the head inside,
and sucked.
Something funny was happening to her, something
she thought she ought to get away from.
"No," she said. "No, I won't." But "Yes," he
laughed. "Yes, you will. Yes."
chapter 7
Along the low, tidy shelves of Sammy Smalter's
pharmacy, whose entire stock the boy had long since
memorized, Luke Packer scuffed his tennis shoe. Just
now that stupid Polly Hedgerow had scored on him,
had spooked him into the clearly uncool move of diving
through the screen door of a drugstore while Joy was
there to see it.
Gable would have stood his ground and grinned.
Luke Packer had sought a self in the movies for half
his sixteen years. He watched the old ones on television
and went to the new ones at the Hope Street Cinema
which Mr. Strummer owned. He liked the old ones on
television better because he sought a large self—heroic,