You know Ben Pirrip Cobalt as the sixteen-year-old savvy environmentalist who makes friends easier than all of my family combined. He’ll even be your friend. He’s probably already followed you back on Twitter or Instagram, and he’s liked your pictures ten or twenty times. You think he’s one of the coolest Cobalt boys—with his accessibility, his windswept brown hair, baby blue eyes, and pretty boy charm—and you wouldn’t be wrong. I know him as Ben, sometimes Pippy, the youngest and most free-spirited Cobalt boy and my little cousin. A guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, who hurts over sad,
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