I dyed my hair in streaks of blue, purple, red, and black, ruining yet another towel of my step-mom’s Martha Stewart collection. Who cares? The hair looks fab. I draw on black lips and eyes over my white face.

I dress in my favorite fishnet shirt, black zombie tee, black cargo shorts, striped purple and black leggings, and silver chain necklaces. I choose the purple tongue stud and the giant purple glass ring that covered my finger to the knuckle.

I shove past my little brother in the hall, just because I can.
“Where are you going?” asks the Martha Mom in her white tennis shorts.
“Out.” I say and slam the door. She has no control over me.

Thing is, I don’t know where to go. Crash and Izzy are at some geeky camp, Fandango is working the matinees, and Spike is in juvy. I check the secret stash in the clubhouse at Izzy’s but Spike had stolen it all for smokes.

I go to the Mall and pocket some CDs and gum and a new t-shirt I wear home under my vest, but I feel empty inside.

I finger the razor.