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Show 46 it. It is much harder to tell Jill with green eyes that I'm busy than it is the young men's oak-faced leader Brother Peters, even though I doubt God cares whether I play broom hockey on Wednesday or box with my friends. Anyway Kylie is my age, beautiful, has already designed and acquired her own tattoo-a fish bending over her left foot and ankle, like every step for her is an arc out of water-and she has no problem letting laughter take over her body like spirit possession. I should be writing about her in my journal at night while trying to think of ways of accidentally bumping into her at school in the morning. But it isn't like that-I have avoided making any advances. Reason number one is we're friends. I don't want to be messing up my only hanging out option during school besides riding in Steve's truck for bean burritos from Taco Amigo. Reason number two is she's dating Jacob from West Valley. I hated him at first because he's 23, and because there's been more than one occasion where I've been in the kitchen helping Kylie's sister do math while a tickle fight breaks out between those two in the next room. I didn't even think about giving him a chance until I learned that he was a kick boxer. And not a kick boxer like I'm a boxer-a real kick boxer, with a winning record, who wins money for his fights. Jacob has black hair, green eyes and a tattoo on his left bicep of a skull with a banner that says CTR draped underneath. He describes himself as straight edge. I have some idea what he means by that. I go to punk/hardcore shows, and I've heard the term on the news reports talking about gang violence in Salt Lake. But Jacob says most straight edge coverage by the media has been "completely fucked up." He says, even when I don't ask, that straight edge is just a way of |