Another girl sat between Blanda’s legs, leaning back on her chest, like they were all on a bobsled. Weaselmug grinned and stroked Blanda’s greasy hair. Blanda said, “C’mon and smoosh, Paris!” I was like, Oh, hell no. No, no, no, no, no . . . Three girls cuddled up with Hippie Mess, cooing and giggling. Some dude who was in the room when I was strip-searched tried to drag me onto his lap. He opened his legs and tried to bobsled me, for Christ’s sake! I was like, “Get off me!” and tried to twist away, but Blanda grabbed my wrist and shook her head.
