ELEVENConnie gnawed pieces out of the end of a ballpoint pen while Sandie tried to explain the situation.
“I mean, I just don’t know what to do with him. He seems to have a thing for music, so I figure if he can figure out that guitar, I could maybe set him up with playing it somewhere, but I just can’t afford to support a... someone else...”
“So it’s a him, now?” Connie interjected, spitting a bit of plastic delicately into her hand. She shoved lavender fingernails through her mohawk and flipped the mass of blue-black hair to the other side of her head, making her earrings jingle.
Sandie made a face. “Well, once I tagged him with ‘John Doe,’ he sort of had to be a he. I never really realized how much people hang up on gender. So I guess it’s just as well, because he couldn’t have just
