"Facts like what?"
"Like..." A final brush of tears like accepting skinned knees. "Like, our gang of girlfriends. We can be awesomely close but we can't get married or be romantic."
People, young and driven by raging against time, came and went from cabanas and closets snorting powder off trays and furniture. "They'll get away with whatever they can," another woman maybe a decade out from teenager plopped a pillowcase of cheap cameras on the stone and cement slant siding the staircase. "And I've brought these." Hands removed a box of condoms and a bag of film from big pockets. "Yeah, that'll help. We'll just give every female condoms and film as security."
"Wait a minute, you were there the other night," a young girl came over from peeing in the bushes. "IT WORKED! WE,
Ssssssh, shuush
"had almost no fatalities."
"People have been dying?"
"Yah. Happens everyday. Don't they even teach you that in schools here?"
"We call it a fatality when some asshole makes a girl do anything against her will." Crossed her arms over well endowed only with breasteses.
"And we're the party crashers," one guy said as a few joined the talking.
One ripped open a can of beer and drank it in one gulp. "Belch, TO THE ISLAND."
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