And what if Lolita had a pen? What if she had brushed aside her pigtails, put down her lollipop, and felt its power in her hand. Oh, of course, she’d felt power in her hand before. It was thrust into her palm one day, the same way royalty is thrust upon you. It’s violence, cloaked in advantage. Confused? So was she. Was she a princess? Was she a whore? Which one of them holds more power,
Cold wind off Lake Michigan. Leaves falling in Empire. Maple oak birch. Sun behind purple clouds down on the horizon. Jared’s car pulls into the empty beach parking lot and the four teens get out. Jared and Scott carrying six-packs of Budweiser, all of them with bottles already in their hands.
Kristen runs out on the sand. —Maybe we could make a fire!
Scott tosses his empty across the lot.
I’m full of shit. This is a confessional, but you can’t trust anything in it because I am a liar. You know I’m a liar because I’m also a thief, and lying is one of the three rules of the shoplifter. You might know them already, but here’s the set for the ignorant: