The boy has black hair thatâ€™s clipped to be unkempt. From a mall bench, he eyes two girls, who wander past in the distraction of gossip and pre-ripped jeans. He wonders which he would prefer. But he stops himself, in curt distaste, when he sees them enter a store he would not go to himself.
Another girl closes a cash register and looks up at the boy from behind the canisters of mint chocolate chip and rocky road. But her hair is unkempt unintentionally, and her jeans are hand-me-downs from her sister. And she knowsâ€”smiling as she places her customerâ€™s change on the alloyed counterâ€”that she doesnâ€™t have a chance.