Sublime

She began feeling an even finer-tuned rage against material East Coast diamondy objects.

No matter what was in fashion, Janet Wilton was a step beyond. She was the one everybody was trying to become, except that the minute they became Janet Wilton, a curly brunette with blueberry mascara and rapist-slash cheek toner, Janet had turned into a French blonde with a simple powdered nose, and was suddenly pink instead of pomegranate.

Up close, her expression—when she wasn’t smiling—gave people the impression that she was brand-new—a child, almost. When she smiled, her perfect white teeth slashed the air with sudden beauty, giving her a glow of confidence that smacked of rude invincibility.

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