Since this community is fairly inactive at the moment, since there are v. few members and the book is still new, i've decided to post quotes from the book whenever i feel like it...to keep things interesting. :D (if you feel so compelled, feel free to do the same.)
Church of Deb Scott
Before us, there was another.
Deb Scott sniffed modeling glue. She ate speed. She smoked hash instead of cigarettes. Deb Scott was the ultimate, the uber, the super badass bad girl.
Astrid and Juli talked about her all the time. All the girls from Sacred Heart Holy Angels did.
"Deb Scott got caught in the track shed, shagging a kid from Fenwick."
"She Frenched Father Flynn in his car once. Just to freak him out."
"Deb Scott boosted a pickup truck once and cut clear across Shumacker's field. Drove a crop circle right into the corn. Three thousand dollars worth of damage. I'm serious. For real."
Deb Scott danced late nights at the Metropolis with her skinny white arms over her hair. She gave a guy head during the middle of a midnight movie at the Oriental. Deb Scott spun herself in circles in the middle of the night at the all-night diner, like, out of her mind.
Somebody started spray painting. First the brick wall of the sacristy. Then the windows to the gym. Always outside, on the walls of Sacred Heart Holy Angels, in an embarrassing, public way. DEB SCOTT'S DEAD, it read, in a crazy, curzive script. DEB SCOTT'S DEAD, everywhere on the walls of Sacred Heart. Until Fritz, the walleyed janitor, painted over it with a roller and a can of weatherprood paint. "It took three coats," he said. Son of a fucking bitch. You know?"
"Deb Scott isn't dead," Astrid said. "Never."
Astrid worshipped at the altar of Deb Scott. Gave alms to Deb's memory. She tore her skirt as short as Deb Scott's, ratted her hair like Deb Scott's, ran fast, maybe faster, than Deb Scott, the baddest of all the bad girls. Astrid believed in her name. The Deb Scott she knew was flying cross-country on the back of a roaring blue Norton. Deb Scott of the black hair. Deb Scott of the blue smoky eyes.
DEB SCOTT'S DEAD, the graffitied walls said.
(from pages 32-35)
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