"This is the kind of life I never had in Goth," Sherry said, smiling as we entered the hospital. Her fingers were warm and tight around mine. "I think this might be the best night of my life, Bram."
We were holding hands, Sherry bumping into me the way she always did, a gentle, playful shoulder check that never quite stayed in a straight line. She had never once walked in a straight line in her life.
"Quiet," I said, voice low. "It's a hospital. They'll know we're outsiders."
"Aren't we?" she said, grinning up at me, eyes bright under the sterile hallway lights.
"Yes," I said. "We are."
She looked at me and couldn't stop smiling, the expression pulling at the corners of her eyes and making the short brunette hair frame her face softer somehow.
"What was in that red drink?" I asked. "Because I don't understand this much excitement."
