I'm a normal teenage girl. Was a normal teenage girl. But that was before I met Slit. Lizzie and Gordo had gotten together; our other 2 best friends Kate and Ethan go together, and then there was me. And then there was Slit.

He admitted openly to being a self-mutilator. He dared to be different; a normal outfit, for him, consisted of tight plaid pants, 5-inch-high combat boots, some band shirt, and various spiked necklaces or bracelets. When I first saw him, his shaggy black hair hanging over his nose, he was giving me my daily caffeine fix at the local Starbucks. He looked at me and went, "Triple shot Venti Latte?" And if I were a cartoon my eyes would be popping out with the word "LUST" written upon them, directed at him, whose nametag said Mike. He had this deep voice, weird for him cuz without his boots he's this scrawny 5'5". I went, "Uh huh," in this trying-to-be-husky-sexy porno voice. He looked at me and was like, "Hey, you go to my school." I was like, "I do? I mean, yeah, I do."

With that my coffee was done, so I thanked him and sat down. It was early; it was one of those days where I had to drive my lil' sis Ana to school. My school didn't start for another 45 minutes, so I sat down in one of those old ridiculously cushion-y chairs they have at coffee places, and read my newspaper.

Suddenly there was a shadow blocking my light, and he's standing there over me, smiling. "I've taken my break, you wanna tell me something about yourself and I'll do the same?"

Taken aback, I nodded. "I'm Miranda Sanchez."

"Slit."

"That's it? That's your full name?"

"Nah, the folks call me Mike, but I was named Slit by my brother who saw me doing it a year ago."

"Doing what?"

"Slit."

Then there was a dramatic pause.

"This is awkward," I said, and took a sip of my coffee.

"Should it be?" He asked, thoughtfully.

"Should it not be?" I asked, in the same tone.

We both laughed at the ridiculous things we had just said. Suddenly I felt a ka-boom! connection with this guy. He looked at me and I looked at him, and we both felt the same way. Sounds tacky, I know, but it's actually what we felt. I told him about Gordo, Lizzie, Kate and Ethan; he told me how his parents were both alcoholics and he lived with his older brother in an apartment. He also told me that he was 19, that he had started school a year late. His brother was 23 and worked in an office. I told him how my parents had separated, and how I was usually responsible for taking Ana to school. I told him that now all my friends were hooked up, I felt kinda alone. And we shared another bonding moment.

"Slit?"

"Yeah?"

"We're late for school!" I cried, looking at my watch.

"No way," he said, and looked at his own.

"Yes way," I replied, and got up.

"You have a car?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Nope, I usually take the bus."

"Come with me!" I cried, and took his hand and lead him to my old beaten up '93 Honda Accord which I had hand-painted in this crazy tie-dye pattern.

"Nice car," he said, grinning.

"Thanks," I said, and put my foot on the gas.

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The next day he was working in the morning, and I came and got coffee again. Then, I asked him if he could show me a bit of what goes on behind the counter. He obliged, and I found that I was quite good at doing it. He got me an application form and urged me to apply for a job. A week later I had a job, giving out coffee at the same Starbucks.

And that's when Slit became different. And I changed too.