“Marty Wrannaman smashed his car into the St. Michael’s Bulldog statue. Bendo was the first EMT there, said there were no skid marks .”
Luke Byro drummed his fingers on the counter of Volicchio’s.
The new girl, the pretty one with the lisp, was taking too long putting his order together.
“Marty have a stroke behind the wheel or something?” Luke asked.
“No, drunk,” Pysik said.
“Marty don’t drink,” Byro said, in a manner that sounded like he would not be challenged on it.
Pysik challenged anyway.
“Bendo said Marty was doing 50 down Rectory Lane, polluted.”
“That poor boy,” a shaky voice said.
Pysik turned. Byro was still staring at the new girl, trying to will her to finish making his shake.
Behind Pysik was Mrs...the fuck was her name? Mrs. May. Taught Pysik’s older brother Social Studies at St. Michael’s. Retired when Pysik was a freshman.
She must be 112, Pysik thought.
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