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Danielle

“Then Tim’s like ‘big nasty teeth! Like this!'” Annie lets go of the wheel to demonstrate; Bruce and Deshaun yelp.

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes, “babies. And he goes ‘and big nasty, uh, ears–‘”

“Nasty claws,” says Bruce.

“This is the zenith of nerd humor?” says Deshaun, thoroughly dubious.

Danielle smiles and crinkles down into the borrowed jacket. The warm car smells like french fries and teenagers. The music’s too loud, and the thump of its bass is in time with the seams in the concrete: together, her secret pulse.

“And then!” says Annie. “The bunny rips out his throat!”

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