![]() ![]() He’s sitting on the table with his feet on the bench. “What do you know about artists?” Gus snorts, tossing half his egg and tuna sandwich at Blythe. It’s like the world is his oyster, but he doesn’t do seafood. But the fact Vaughn refuses to choose a table and affiliate himself with a crowd? I think that’s the cherry on his popularity cake. That’s the other thing-Vaughn can hang out with perfectly sane girls and turn them into bunny boilers. If he hangs out with a girl, you only know about it after he breaks up with her because the crazy bitch vandalizes his locker or desk or mansion. He never goes into the restrooms at school. I think that’s what makes him legendary between these walls. He doesn’t seem to do a lot of stuff other people do to exist. I mean, he obviously does-otherwise, he wouldn’t exist-but not in front of people. “Shit, Blythe, you even make sex sound sad.” Knight yawns. Sitting all by himself, he sketches his next statue on a pad. ![]() ![]() Across the room sits Vaughn, the unaware subject of her lecture. You need to be both the egg and the sperm to create a masterpiece.” Blythe stands on a cafeteria bench, delivering a theatrical speech. Only a true individualist can give birth to something of their own. ![]()
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