Upper Middle Class

No one dies in the suburbs.

Nowhere to drive to.

I traded secrets for chapstick until my lies weren’t believable.

Sixteen: Let’s compare cars.

Instead of wearing miniskirts, I roll up the fabric, so I can have something to pull down.

We made the pack of cigarettes we found in my father’s glove box last almost two months.

I don’t like ginger ale. I drink it at parties.

Girls’ gemmed fingernails and foreheads: Arabian Nights.

My great grandmother died in a nursing home. Her roommate didn’t allow pictures on the wall.

Not all legs can open.

It was easy to sneak lipstick from the Macy's makeup counter, but we stole earrings instead.