The first thing you've got to know is no one really shows up at the Dump. That's just a bunch of make belief lies the big shots up at Newton like to tell you, with their big fancy cars and real, real big cigars. My brother says their lungs are so bad, they would wither up and turn to ash if you punched them square in the chest But I wouldn't know, I never got to try it out yet.
I mean, not like I would, I am a well upstanding boy, and I am offended that you'd even think I would.
So, shame on you.
Soc shrieks and pushes the bucket against his face, frantically shouting "Don't throw up, don't throw up," As Owen chokes on his own vomit. Marlow squirms beside me, and Lucas tries crawling over me to get to the window, his face getting darker by the second.
"We shouldn't go to carnivals anymore," I huff out, and Mary lets out an agitated amen.
I think this is the last letter I'll be writing for a while. I'll see you when I see you.