There was no loser boyfriend. There had never been a loser boyfriend. Antimony had fabricated him from whole cloth, a rough, slightly disreputable character who went to a different high school and had been portrayed—on the few occasions when he needed to be seen by her classmates, from a safe distance—by her nerdy cousin Artie in what he insisted on calling “jock cosplay,” driving her Uncle Ted’s 1969 Camaro and sneering. Thus far, she’d managed to keep any member of the squad from meeting him face-to-face, which was for the best, since Artie’s pheromones tended to scramble the hormones of
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