SarahYesterday's Photos

He entered the scene of the spectacle, but it was already too late; the floor was littered with empty cups and all the women had been whisked away. All that remained were boys revolved in a game of dice and wet cheese pizza from across the street.

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They'd been knocked out in the finals, but they'd played hard. Stranded in a strange place until their 2 o'clock flight tomorrow, the Boston Outer City Junior Girls Basketball League intoxicated their lamentations.

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"You're not supposed to go side-to-side" she told me with bared teeth. "I never knew, but I'd been brushing wrong. It's all up-down. I never knew." Before that rainy night in May, I never knew either.

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"I think I may still have a fever" she said as she touched her cheeks. "I feel like I'm on fire."

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"Johnny Boy, I think I'm about to hit the floor." he said as he stumbled out of the chair. He really should have eaten breakfast that day.

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"Ramona!" he hollered at the ceiling fan. "Ramona..." he said in a mangled voice, falling upon himself, slowly digressing into the fetal position.

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"I've got a secret to tell you," he whispered hoarsely, voice raw from rain, grain, and serial malnourishment. "What?" she giggled. She giggled at her giggle; life was hilarious; breathing was orgasmic; drugs were indulgent- she was Queen.

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When you're young, everything is exceptional. There's no neutral to the hot-blooded- there's only too fast and too slow. There were those moments, though, where it was hard to tell which you were dealing with. When we thought back to the night of the accident, none of us could really recall how it happened. When did we reach the point of no return? Were we doomed at that first step down, or was it when we turned the corner at 42nd?

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Miriam spent the summer in parts of Spain and Boston. She was mostly on her own, except for a cousin that stayed with her for eight days in Boston. The cousin was two years her junior and kept snapshots of her dead tabbies in her wallet. Coming home in mid-September was a change of pace from her life of independent soul searching, but it didn't take her long to get comfortable.

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It was hot the night Danny lost his thumb- too hot; rabies-hot we called it- so hot you lose your mind. Danny never said how he lost his appendage, but the story goes it was bitten off.

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Josh and Vaughn had been in the corner all night. Vaughn had drank a pitcher to himself, while Josh was on his fifth beer. The conversation had changed pace as the liquor was dissolved- revelations met and discarded; ideas shared, collaborated and sabotaged. They spoke of the energy crisis, of Nevada, of the Chicago Bulls and of love.

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Bethany Belinda Button was always mocked for her name. Her parents had met in a children's literature class held at the community college annex and they'd always had an intimate yet quietly burning flame of passion for the neglected art; her brother was named Willy Waldo Button. To overcome the teasing Bethany constantly overexerted herself. She always worked hard in hopes of one day being taken seriously. She was top in all her classes and had won the county science fair three times out of four (and only because the judge was sexist, her mother assured her). She volunteered at the foodbank on Saturday and the grief hotline on Sunday. She had perfected Chinese ribbon dancing and was constantly told she could make it to the Olympics, though her passions lay elsewhere. Yes, poor Bethany had it rough- she could never outlive her name, and the giggles and tickles always followed her. Fed up, she eventually legally changed her name to Jane Goodwill.

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