We were so bored that day. Jenna still in her cut offs and bikini top, refusing to let the Summer end. Under the bridge, smoking weed, pretending our senior year didn’t start in 2 weeks. SUMMER STILL BURNS she wrote. Spray painted graffiti to join the others. Blue, the only can she had.  “What the fuck does that mean?” I asked her, laughing out smoke. “Dude, “she drawled, “you know what the fuck it means!” We both doubled over laughing, and I dropped the joint. It had been burning my fingers anyway.  It joined the pile of garbage by my feet. I knew I had to get home before my Mom or there would be hell to pay. I was supposedly grounded.