I was at my friend Michelle’s house after school. She called her friend Jon to see if he wanted to hang out and he said he’d be over to pick us up. He arrived in his black Sunfire—complete with sunroof. His friend Wil was in the passenger’s seat. We drove off, on our way to do what most Indiana kids did on a weekend night—we drove.
We drove to a steakhouse where the guys said their friend Adam works at a bus boy. For some reason, they thought Adam would be able to hook us up, read: get us food or beer. But Adam told us he hasn’t worked there very long and didn’t want to ruin his chances. The waiter, a chubby girl with curly blond hair, was pissed.
Although it was the first time I met Adam, I’d heard things about him through one of my girlfriends. They’d gone to the same private Lutheran school together.
As the summer wore on, I spent more time with Adam, Wil, Jon and Michelle.
The Bitter Lemon 