The parking lot was empty save for a row of school buses, no one for us to kill, and so Carol took an aluminum bat from the back seat and started walking down the row of buses, busting out the headlights, the cleats she still wore click-clacking on the glass that fell around her. There was no other bat, so I just walked behind her, nodding at each act of vandalism as if to let her know that I approved. Then, somehow, Carol's bad idea rubbed up against my brain and spawned another bad idea. I crept over to the first bus in the row and pried open the gas cover. Then I shoved my handkerchief into the opening. I flicked my lighter and got the cloth to start burning. I ran, grabbed Carol's arm in mid-swing, and pulled her towards the car. Less than a minute later, the back end of the school bus exploded, parts skittering across the asphalt. As we got on the highway back home, Carol took my hand, put it between her legs, and squeezed her thighs together. I had no idea what to do, so I just let my hand, dead tissue, severed at the wrist, stay there, rubbing against Carol's polyester softball shorts whenever she pressed her foot against the brake or accelerator.
Outside my house, my parents' asleep, Carol finally turned off the car and said, "Goddamn, that was good."
"It was good," I said.
"I'm going to do something for you and if you tell anyone, then I'm going to do something else to you and it will be awful."
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"I'm going to give you a blowjob," she said.
I got hard and then I got scared. "Wait," I said. "Have you done this before?"
"Well, I haven't. I'm nervous."
"You don't have to do much," she said.
"I've got to tell you something first," I said. Shut up, shut up, shut up, I told myself but I didn't listen.
"So my testicles..." I began.
She looked bored. "Okay?"
"They're not normal."
She looked not so bored. "Okay."
"They're spongy. Like nerf. Like they're not really there."
"I just wanted to tell you so you didn't freak out."
"I won't," she said. "But I am going to check this out."
After it was over, she said, "That is weird, but not weird enough that you should tell people when they offer to give you a blowjob."
"Not true," I said.
"Maybe," she said, smiling, "maybe not."
"Who told you?"
"Carol told Tonya and made her promise not to tell anybody, but Tonya told everybody."
She came at me and I let my arm go and connected right against the side of her head, one punch and done, knocking her dead into a coma. I had broken my hand, I knew, but as soon as two or three of the girls from the softball team came charging at me, I swung anyways, felt a pain travel into the roots of my teeth when made contact. I bloodied a nose and kicked one girl so hard in the gut that she made a sound like two babies had fallen out of her. Then, as I expected, more and more girls from the softball team swarmed all over me, knocking out a tooth, ripping a hank of hair from my head, punching and punching me in my ineffectual balls. I was buried under a mound of angry, crimped-hair, filthy-mouthed psychopaths and they knocked me out and then punched me back awake so many times that I felt like I was dreaming, that I was swimming in a sea of women, traveling from one body of land to another, hoping that I would not drown before I'd made it to the other side.