He is here today.
I’ve never seen him with her before. Three months of having this knowledge nagging in the corridors of my brain, and I have never seen them together.
His name is Alessandro Romano. If you haven’t guessed, he’s Italian. He is also our school’s biggest dealer.
And apparently Lola is sleeping with him in exchange for ecstacy.
That is what she was doing that night she didn’t come home. And, according to Neleigh, several times since. I highly doubt that her parents know what she was doing, but it seems that everyone else does. She doesn’t seem to care about the rumors though. She’s probably too smashed, I guess.
She walks through the hallways, too dazed for school and too pretty to be dazed. Just like Alessandro. Neither of them should be addicts. Lola’s a total brain, even though first impression tend to savor a ditz. She’s book smart — she’s been two years ahead in math since the sixth grade and scored a 33 on the ACT without cracking book. Neleigh and I were naive enough to think that encompassed common sense as well. Unfortunately we were wrong.
Alessandro is proof of that.
He’s a nice guy, I guess. Probably less “nice” than just too stoned to expend the energy required to be rude. And my image of him is tainted by that fact that he had slept with the majority of the girls deemed “sluts” at our school. And, now, apparently turned a former friend of mine into one of them.
On Tuesday, Lola isn’t at school. This should come as no surprise because Lola very rarely deigns to show up. Alessandro is gone as well, something that is overwhelmingly clear to both Neleigh and I — and we both try to keep it from ruining our whole day.
There is one week left in our junior year of high school. Just one week.
Then Lola has all summer, unsupervised, to get into trouble.