I remember sitting in a junior high classroom, learning about the French Revolution. Or the Russian revolution, or something. I remember this kid rolling a safety pin over his forehead. Back and forth, back and forth. He was strung out on drugs. This cute girl is sitting beside him, jotting down notes about the Tsar or Napoleon, minding her own business. He opens up the safety pin. He jams it into his eyebrow, through it, piercing it. A great red stream spurts from his eye straight onto the cute girl’s notebook. She looks up to see this kid with blood streaming down the side of his face and this safety pin lodged into his skull. He clips the safety pin back together. She turns to her left and throws up her lunch of French fries and Tahiti treat into her friend’s lap. What happens next isn’t like Stand By Me at all. The other girl doesn’t throw up in the lap of somebody else, starting a vomit chain reaction. She just sits there and laughs, then looks at her friend with puke dripping down her chin and this punk with a safety pin in his eye.