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Byline: Darcey Steinke
I was all dressed up, but in Roanoke there was literally no place to go. The one disco on the highway was in a steel warehouse, but I was too young to get in. On Friday nights my girlfriends and I would drive to Tanglewood Mall and hang around the Orange Julius. We'd sit at one of the orange Formica tables and talk about the boys in our class. We drove around aimlessly; I'd be dropped off in front of my house. I'd walk down the gravel driveway to the side door of our redbrick ranch, feeling stupid and unsatisfied. My mother was always waiting for me, sitting on the couch in the dark living room in her nightgown. To her eyes I must have been ...