My sisters and I are passing around a Gatorade bottle, red flavored, half full of vodka. I’m 16, and I didn’t know, I didn’t know that this would be the last time I would be happy. We’re all as naked as one could be, because this was New Orleans and we didn’t have air-conditioning. The taste, for me, my last moment of true happiness, is laying in my room with my sisters.
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