“Oh yeah? What have they come up with?” I asked, actually curious. He tucked his hair behind both of his ears as we walked, showing five silver hoops running up his right earlobe. “The usual, you were in juvenile hall, you were expelled, drugs.” Ethan shrugged. “Nothing original.” He raised an eyebrow at me before adding, “There is contemplation floating around about whether your hair color is real or not. And whether or not you have a soul.” I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Those aren’t new,” I told them as we went down a few cement steps.
