  Somehow Anna and I have convinced our parents that skipping class does a teenager good. With state-testing comes block schedule. What well-intentioned parent could stand to have her daughter huffing and puffing for two hours in PE (Anna D.) or trying hard not to ignore Leigh in Creative Writing? Not ours! Third period was bliss. Without money and very hungry, we were at a loss as to were to go for lunch.
With my Spokane Club membership, I can charge anything I want, including meals. Mmm... all the fruit plates, saltine crackers, and diet sodas we could stand! (There is literally nothing else Vegan on the menu) We chatted with a crazy looking woman with a Louie Vaton gym bag and a small, pristine-looking child. The little girl kept trying to under the barrettes in her hair, and the mother looked mortified when she burped. I can't wait to see what happens with those two in about ten years. Hey, crazy mother-- meet a little something called adolescence.
However nerdy it makes us, we went to the downtown public library next. It is the best branch in the city. I found a book with zine exerts and Anna photocopied Vegetarian recipes. The woman checking out my book squealed. "My friend has a zine! I'm being reviewed in the next issue!
It's called..." Her excitement struck me as girlish. I never did catch exactly what she was reviewed for. But the image of a thirtyish Asian woman squealing re-vamped my desire to zine. I really want to do this. We hopped over to Starbucks and it served to prove Anna's theory of Coffeehouse Hotness. The men serving were pretty edgy as far as corporate-Starbucks in concerned.
They had the styled down look of a college students who'd rolled out bed just in time to not piss off his manager. There was something so adult about stopping by Starbucks during lunchour, something so wonderful about flirting with these men with their adult physiques and boyish good looks. My zine book was still in arm, which I didn't realize must have given away our age. "I had a zine once. " said the twentysomething making my chai-tea-with-soy. He smiled in the same wistful way I must when I talk about SkyDancers or American Girl Dolls.
His fellow coffee-fellow, clearly the less hip of the two, asked what zines were exactly. "Oh, you just write about whatever you want. Underground stuff. Music. Movies.... Angst . " There was something so pure and honest and lovely about the way he said 'angst'.
Like it was romantic and youthful. Affectionately... Anna 
