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than ,the door to the hallway, with smudges along the bottom

whe re it had probably been kicked open by shoes similar

to my Pizza Hut ones. The Spot was created by the near \
{
intersection of two wings of the mall at a forty,-fivedegree
\
'angle: Opposite the door, the vertex of this angle lay
I
'open, four or five feet wide, leading 'to the parking lot. It

occurred to me that if a quick escape was necessary, I would

probably be the last one out that narrow gap, and t~erefore;

the one caught. The walls extended upwards two stories, so

that a triangular' patch of sky floated between them. The ,;~

walls and conc ret.e i noox were 'gray, 'wi1:hblack ellipses of '
squished gum and smeared ash from cigarette butts.

The,S,pot was .probab Ly ,popular among mall, employees as

'a place for a smoke break, but we never stumbled on them

'there. Ni'ck and Kayla contributed to the black smears of 'a~h'

on the ~oncrete ~y lighting cigarettes for each other with

long fingers, nails stubby and bitten to the quick. We sat

down and leaned against the wall, Kayla and I facing Nick,

and my jeans seemed, to' set t Le into the thin layer of grime,'

or the grime settled into them. Legs stretched straight and

ankles crossed, they discussed punk bands like the one's on

their T-shirts: The White Drugs, A Static Lullaby, Avenged

Sevenfold, Atreyu. I crossed my arms over my pink and green

argyle shirt and stared at,the ground next to me. Kayla

matched much better. Her eyeliner was 'smudged like the ash/

the white parts of her shoes grayed Li ke the mortar between

the cinderblocks.

Now, when I see the Goth ki.ds at the mall, I see them

the way relatively self-assured adults must have seen,us.

I speculate about how .):heyfound The Spot, and what their

conversations there are L'i-ke . I imagine topic'sr range from

shoplifting to ;'hat t'ime their mothers wip be picking them,

up, or comparing tips on buying cigarettes despite being

under aqe . . " ':

The Spot >stands f~r that gritty, unpleasant t.Lme in

adolescence of trying to .fit; in, and of experimenting 'with

dangerous things. I remember my mom's comment when I"climbed

in the car after a few hours at the mall. '

"What,were you doing?" she'd s~id, ~rinkling her nose.

The grime, from the pavement, along with its smell, had

settled into my jeans, and it would be there for' a while

longer. 'Remernb'eringthe Spot is like finding a shirt in the

back of my closet I used to wear, constantly, and se'e i.nq it

the way it is: shabby and ill-fitting. The Spot was not my

COcoon; I never enclosed myself in it, and so the stench'

would n0t stay with me. I'm glad, because I dQn.'t know

whether things einerge from the'.spot;'or,whether they lie'

dormant.