"I'm not a target. People don't target me." Which, Crowley figured, didn't strictly speaking have to be true and wasn't really either, but it kind of seemed to be working for him. That belief in no longer being a target. There were probably a lot of factors at work, such as how tall he'd gotten recently and the persistent rumour that some of his fellow goths really did sacrifice virgins and maybe even just some boys who couldn't last more than a quick handjob, but whatever it was, he didn't get targeted these days.

How true that would hold once he regularly walked home someone everyone called a faggot, time would tell. But he didn't care that much. He'd just keep on believing he'd be fine. "I don't care about people that much. Just don't need anyone thinking I read, right? Do I look like I read books?"