“I think I love you, Leslie.”
She considered this as she took a long drag of the cigarette they were sharing. It tasted foul, but her mother had forbidden her to do it so that seemed reason enough to try it. “We could run away,” she suggested.
“And get married?” Jeff asked.
Leslie shrugged. “Sure.” She was certain her mother would never want her to marry Jeff, the skinny kid who had the appearance of the drug addict but was really intelligent. He liked listening to Mozart. If that wasn’t smart, Leslie didn’t know what was.
“Then let’s go tonight.”