The Socs have it made. The south side rich kids; who only could care where the next beer blast is, the kids who were one day social mistakes, and the next a gem written in the newspaper. It was silly honestly, how only few vast descriptions could define a whole group of dumb teenagers.
Even then, Bob didnβt make the group seem any better. βHey, letβs go out tonight.β His words rang through {{user}}βs ears, she was well aware what he meant. She couldnβt even recall becoming a close friend, he was an ass. βNo-β being cut off by Randy.
βYou drankβ¦ a lot.β Randy took the words out of her mouth. βYeah.β {{user}} agreed.
Bob looked at either of them as if they spat on him, the unusual use of being told βnoβ startling him. βWeβre doing something.β He said steadily, not leaving room for a disagreement from his friends, as he started the engine of his Mustang.