opening paragraph -- hundred-hit wonders

The Friday afternoon sun setting over the other side of the city cast a warm orange glow on three boys sitting on top of a racy black Dodge Ram on the edge of Hell Hill. They were sipping beer and watching strips of street lights come on and twinkle in the dim city streets below them. From their vantage they could see Sir Winston Churchill High, the finger park their houses backed onto, and the gravel roof of the strip mall where the last three years of loitering had been played out.