The modern parts of the book were inspired by my worldview of high school as pure, unadulterated Hell. “What the devil do you mean by coming for me like that?” Ennison exclaimed, glowering down upon him. Rain changed to hail, then 154 sleet, then snow. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. And also she didn’t like them. What would happen to her? Would her soul be shaken, twisted, hypnotized?—as it had been those other times? Music—that took out of her the sense of reality, whirled her into the clouds, that gave to her will the directless energy of a chip of wood on stormy waters.
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