I've told her. I've warned her more than once. I could see the signs, Her daughter running with the wrong crowd, and I've seen her smoking in the alley after school. Her mother won't listen.
The chubby girl is in her dad's shop behind the garage, getting plowed by a older boy in a ski hat with silly ear flaps and a heavy-metal t-shirt. He's smoking a cigarette she rolled for him. While they're entangled, he admires her dad's antique wood plane on the pegboard by the bench.
The boy listens for her mother coming down the back stairs. If she's coming, they will hide behind the empty boxes near the back wall, still out of breath. Giggling.