The cool girl grinds down a stair rail on her skateboard, spray-paint can in hand ready to scrawl her tag on the wall. Unfortunately, she doesn't have the hand-eye coordination to manage it at the speed she's going, so all she leaves behind is a squiggly line of teal. She makes her landing, though, 10/10, totally radical.
"Hellz yeah!" Latula shouts, pumping a fist in the air. "Did you see that, Paycheck?"
From the nearby park bench, Roxy claps her hands and laughs. "Hells yeah," she repeats, missing the necessary emphasis to turn that S into a Z, but it's okay. She tried. "You are the coolest coolkid, Pypes, it's you. Hey, hey, can you, what's the thing-- pop a wheelie?"
A sharp-toothed grin crosses Latula's face as she pops the most flagrant wheelie mankind has ever seen. Roxy's the only one to see it, but that just makes it all the better, really. It's like a private little moment between the two of them.
Latula beckons, and Roxy rushes over to jump on the back of her skateboard as they move on to their next destination.
Roxy is friendly with the owner of the convenience store down the block from her house, so she has no trouble waltzing on in and buying a forty and a pack of smokes. They know she's not a sting officer. Might as well take her cash.
"Cha-ching!" Latula grins as the two of them settle down in Roxy's living room, haul sitting on the coffee table, PS3 controllers in hand. "This is officially the raddest game of hooky ever, no lie."
"Fuck yeah," Roxy responds. She boots up a fighting game. She's nice and buzzed, neither too sober nor too tipsy, and all sorts of ready to kick her girlfriend's butt, virtually speaking. "Tell me why we never did this before? Mom's basically always out of town on signings and shit, we could make this a weekly thing."
"Damn. RX Lalonde always brings the prescription for exactly what ails." As Latula picks her character, her tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth. "That would be fuckin' cash, girl."
And then they beat the shit out of each other. Roxy wins, for once. A little bit of alcohol is enough to get her on her game, but it just makes Latula fumble.
"Best two out of three, homegirl." Latula pushes her shades up her nose.
Roxy wins again.
With a belabored moan, Latula drowns her defeat in alcohol.
They have to go out to the back porch to smoke. The one time Roxy tried smoking inside she'd spent a month grounded. No amount of air freshener can hide the scent of tobacco from Rose Lalonde, apparently.
It's not even that Roxy and Latula like cigarettes, really. Smoking is just what bad girls do when they cut school.
"So when do we want to do this again?" Roxy wonders in-between drags.
"How about next Friday?"
"Don't you have that sociology test on Friday?"
Latula groans and rolls her eyes. "The whole point is we don't care about that stuff, Paycheck! We're two rad, bad gurlz with tudes who don't give a fuq about skool."
Roxy laughs slightly. She sways to one side and Latula has to grab her arm to keep her from falling over. "Okay, but if you wanna go into law you definitely need good grades in those kinds of classes, Tulio. Plus I have a test in programming on Friday."
That brings forth a drawn-out, exaggerated moan. "Roxyyyy..."
"I know, homegirl." She sways again, this time leaning her head up against Latula's shoulder. "What about Saturday?"
"We don't have school on Saturday."
"We can still hang," Roxy points out.
Latula is about to protest that there's no point when there aren't classes to play hooky from, but then she glances down at Roxy, and. Well. Okay, maybe there's one good reason.
"Sure, babez. And next time I'm totes gonna show you how to kickflip without fallin' on your face."
Latula leans down to catch Roxy's lips with her own, but immediately pulls away with a grimace. Roxy loses her balance and falls over. "Also, I know it's kewl and all, but maybe we should ditch the cigs."
"No arguments here."