Money’s Worth
By J.M. Snyder
I’m outside the Bar Code downtown, standing
on the curb with my hands shoved deep in the pockets of my
sweatpants and trying hard to look worlds more interesting than I
really am, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I whirl around,
stepping back, but it’s only Ritchie. He’s drunk and there’s a wild
look in his eyes, a devilish gleam that excites me, though I don’t
let him know it.
Ritchie’s cool in a way I’ve always wanted to
be but can’t seem to attain, no matter how ripped my jeans are, or
how disheveled my hair, or how worn my T-shirt. He’s crazy, man,
craziest guy on our floor, and I know the only reason a lot of
other dudes in our dorm know who I am is because I’m his roomie.
He’s the kind of guy who will stage mattress fights at three in the
