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Satan

Satan’s new nametag says SATIN.

“It was probably one of those accidentally-on-purpose typos,” says Aaron. “He doesn’t want people coming into the store and thinking you’re some…”

“If he was going to do that,” says Satan, “why wouldn’t he just go with ‘Stan?'”

“I like it,” says Rosaline, through quesadilla. “Sort of a cool drag vibe.”

“Rosaline,” says Aaron with great concern, “no one ever says ‘vibe.'”

Rosaline defies him by stuffing more quesadilla into her face. They’re all sick of the quesadilla, but it’s so cheap and so good, and where else are they going to hang out?

Jeremiah

Jeremiah is the only fifteen-year-old boy in the world who understands about girls.

“I didn’t get her anything,” says Aaron, sweating.

“The flower shops are already closed,” says Jeremiah, counting Aaron’s money. “Go to the dumpster behind the closest one and pick out seven rose petals. Wash them with soap and water. Put them in a jewelry box.”

“Are you sure?” asks Aaron. Jeremiah is.

Jeremiah doesn’t have a girlfriend, not because he’s gay, but because he understands about girls. Maybe that means he can’t be bothered? Maybe that he’s too in love with all of them to choose.

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