Page 121 of Stabby Little

It was basically the worst way to spend my twenty-first birthday. The bartender wouldn't let me purchase any more drinks, because I couldn't prove I was twenty-one. Becca let me sip hers, but my night was ruined. I had to go to the DMV the next day and wait five hours to speak to a representative to apply for a new one. The woman was rude as hell, too. She stared at me over an enormous pair of black glasses and demanded my personal information. I understand that's her job, but she got off on it way too much. DMV employees irritate me. They're like flight attendants who get a surge of adrenaline whenever they correct someone for violating the “rules.” Power trips are second nature to them, and the one who pressured me until I told her how I lost my ID wasn't any different.

Now, it's been weeks since I've had my ID. The new picture I had to take was horrendous, too. My last picture was perfect—my blond hair was tucked underneath my baseball cap, and my black wayfarer glasses were adorable as hell. This time, the photographer forced me to remove my hat and I felt so naked. I'm going bald on top of my head even though I'm only twenty-one, so the experience was humiliating as it was triggering. I wanted to die on the spot and crawl into the nearest hole, because there was a super sexy Daddy in the waiting room staring at me.

I've always liked older men. Now that I don't even have my ID to prove I'm old enough to date them, it sucks even more.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I accept the call when I see it's my best friend, Becca.

"Hey, bitch."

"Hey yourself," Becca singsongs. "How's your morning?"

"I'm walking to class and enjoying myself for once."

"Has your new ID arrived yet?"

"What do you think?"

"Judging by your sassy tone, no."

"I'm not being sassy," I snap, my voice coming out way sassier than I intended. I'd better dial that back by a factor of ten. "I'm just annoyed the DMV hasn't sent my new card."

"I don't think the DMV sends cards. Pretty sure that's a different government agency."

"I didn't realize how much I hated bureaucracy until some asshole took my ID. Why would they do that? It's not like they can access my bank account with it. And they returned my wallet to my back pocket after they stole my ID. It's the most bizarre robbery."

"You have papers, though, right?" Becca queries. "The ones that officially prove you're twenty-one?"

"Yes, but those won't get me into a bar."

"I'm pretty sure they will." Becca is nothing if not an optimistic queen. "You just need to explain what happened and point to the official signature on the bottom. They have a legal obligation to let you in."

"This is pointless. None of this would've happened if some jerk hadn't robbed me."

"You need to move past that. You're letting this consume your life."

"I looked so cute in that picture." My voice borders on a wail. "My new picture is terrible."

"Why?"

"The employee made me take off my ball cap. You know I wear that to cover up my bald spot. I was so embarrassed standing there letting her photograph me."

"I can't tell if you're joking."

"My bald spot is my biggest insecurity. It'll probably be visible on my new ID. Every time I hand it to someone, they'll think I'm a freak."

"You're not going bald. You have mild hair shedding from your high stress levels, but you could solve that by going on finasteride."

"I don't want to go on finasteride. It destroys your libido."

"You don't have a libido. You spend every waking hour in the animal shelter playing with puppies."

"Rehabilitating, but thanks. And I might want a libido someday… namely if that hot guy from Hollister ever texts me."

"Did you give him your number?"

"No. He gave me his."

"Then you need to text him first," Becca snaps. "Take initiative, Kobe. I'm sick of you waiting around for the world to give you something."

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