| OCR Text |
Show 145 "At least at first." He is disgusting me and he knows it. He is making me sick to my stomach and making me hate him even more than I already do, but he won't let me go. "You can pick them up with your nails," he says, "and if you look real close you can see that they look just like what they call them. Little tiny crabs." One of his hands is in front of my face, and he is wiggling all of his fingers. "You're crazy," I say. "Leave me alone." "Of course if you don't get rid of them they get worse, and if they get bad enough they chew up your skin, make it raw." "Don't talk to me about skin," I say. "That girl down the hall, the one with the big birthmark on her face, she's got them. She told me." "Let me go, goddamnit." "Okay, okay, don't get all worked up. I just thought you might be interested, that's all. Crabs are actually kind of interesting. If you'd ever had them you'd know what I mean." "I've never had them," I say. "I know." He was grinning with all his teeth, like something was terrifically funny. "I'll never have them," I said. He was laughing. "Don't be so sure, even the best people get them. One day you just start itching and then on about the third day you discover them." "You're a jerk," I hissed in his face. |
