We’d study through the day and maybe take a “disco nap” to help us stay out late. At around nine in the evening we’d start getting ready, and we’d waltz into the bars with barely any ID checks, in boy jeans and chunky black shoes, a mess of choker necklaces, and thin straps of leather bracelets. We’d hear stories of a girl who never made it home. I thought that was just the nineties. Before cellphones to check in and to call for backup from your friends, or to call the police with a few buttons.
