Emerald eyes, Mason had called them. They had always been the first, and last, place he kissed her each morning and each night. God, I miss him...Ol...via shook her head, concentrating on the task at hand, running a last minute check over the makeshift altar in the corner of the room. Everything was still there, as it had been just five minutes earlier: a cheap black-felt top hat; a pair of knock-off Aviators purchased from a street vendor somewhere in Elmwood; a litre bottle of spiced rum,. No, he thought immediately, that was wrong, there was one girl, EB. Fucking EB Johnson, she’d gone by damn initials like a boy. In fact, to everyone else in the school, she might as well have been a boy, if it weren’t for the decidedly un-boyish set of tits she hid under baggy shirts and jeans. EB hung out with mostly guys, played sports, swore constantly, never gave any indication that she was interested in anyone male or female sexually and was quick witted and even quicker mouthed. It was. More

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