"One of us has got to die," he panted. "I am twenty," said the girl. ” Lucy looked at the small shelf which was jammed with thick paperbacks by every major horror novelist of the twentieth century. She tipped his mouth towards her own and kissed him. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. The Oriental waterfronts were rank with the stuff. What a pig she was. She looked in the rear-view mirror. She crawled over and caught at the skirts of this white woman who understood. The father would be all steel.
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