“When Billy first laid eyes on Edie McBride, she was sucking down an ice-cold Ale 8, with her sweet seventeen-year-old rump squished up against the hood of his cousin Duke’s rust-splotched ’71 Nova. The glass bottle was pearled with sweat, and she wiped it across her neck in slow motion. She was a thick-legged girl in a purple pencil skirt, wrinkling her nose at the brutality of bare-chested boys…”

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