Sunbound

☀ My Own Private Lesbian

C H A P T E R  7: My Own Private Lesbian

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    "Do you think he has a big dick?"

    A mouthful of vanilla milkshake and saliva shot across the orange, cracked dirt of the parking lot of Santan Valley Diner — which just so happened to be number fifteen on Scout's hate-list; just because the town was called Santan Valley did not mean that every single one of its goddamn establishments had to bare the name as well.

    "WHAT?" Scout shouted, wiping the white driblets of milkshake from her mouth with the back of her hand. Spitting was another one of her pet peeves, but she was too rattled to pay it any mind.

    "I said," Bo Benson went on, shielding her dark eyes from the late-noon sun, "do you think Skylar has a big dick?"

    "First of all," Scout snapped, shifting her bottom on the pavement to stare hard into Bo's face, "the size of his junk is neither your or my business, and second of all, don't you like vagina?"

    Bo shrugged, batting a dark curl from her field of vision, of which the breeze only blew back into her face. She took a long sip of her strawberry milkshake. "I still think penises are interesting," she said.

    Scout sighed, and focused her attention straight ahead of her. She and Bo had been sitting on the curb outside of Santan Valley Diner for an hour, and the only thing she could fathom talking about was Skylar. It was pissing her off, and her best friend's interest in the size of his dick wasn't helping the situation at all.

    Bo knocked a knee of half Iraqi and half black complexion — the most exotic thing to ever happen to Santan Valley, according to Scout — against Scout's leg. "What are you thinking about?"

    Scout shrugged—a habit she adopted from Bo,—and watched as an army of ants swarmed around the river of white milkshake in the dry dirt.

    "Well, I think you should try to be less of an asshole to someone that you don't even know, SJ."

    Scout found it hard not to shove Bo's navy Panama hat down her throat. "Well, I think you should be on my side, but I guess we all can't get what we want, can we?"

    "I am on your side," Bo prattled on. "I'm always on your side, but I'm also a firm believer in Karma, and your sour attitude is attracting some bad juju right now."

    Scout rolled her eyes. Bodhi "Bo" Benson was one of those spiritual weirdos — as Scout liked to call them — that believed in Karma, supernatural beings, auras, and humanity's metaphysical connection to the universe. It was entertaining some days, especially when Bo went off on a tangent about chakras and absorbing positive energy, or when she talked about her sixth sense for detecting fluctuations in the magnetic field, which she often attributed to the presence of ghosts, of which she tried to communicate with. But most days, like this day, it charted as number sixteen on Scout's hate-list.

    "Your negativity is corrupting my aura," Bo muttered, sipping loudly on the straw of her near-empty milkshake.

    "Your aura is corrupting my life."

    Bo chose not to dignify that with a response.

    Scout sighed for what she felt was the umpteenth time that day. She laid back against the hot pavement of the sidewalk, staring up at the sun. The golden fireball burned into her retinas, but she was too miserable to care. She wondered what horrible thing she did in her life that had a punishment of having her heart ripped out of her chest and ground into hamburger by a manwhore of an ex-boyfriend, and then have a near carbon-copy of said ex-boyfriend hurled at her like a wrecking ball. And then, not to mention the fact that she had been punished by having Satan's spawn as a cousin. That just made the whole situation impossibly worse.