Young Adult Fiction
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He opens his hand, and there's this little plastic bag of powder. White powder. He reaches into his pocket again and pulls out a short straw. "Voila," he says. "Care for a toot?"
I stare at the cocaine, and while part of my brain wants to say, "No, jerk, get out," another voice inside me is saying, "Why not?"
Excerpt
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Ralph looked away from me to another guy.
"What do you think, Scott—a seven?"
Scott looked me up and down.
"Seven? Maybe."
"Maybe on a good day," said another guy.
"A really good day? Like last Friday?" Ralph replied.
They were all laughing again.
"You guys are pigs," I said.
