Walking Disaster

have given it to them.
    I winked at America, who seemed satisfied, nodded to Shepley, and then took another bite of whatever was on my plate.
    “Nice job last night, Mad Dog,” Chris Jenks said, flicking a crouton across the table.
    “Shut up, dumb ass,” Brazil said in his typical low voice. “Adam will never let you back in if he hears you’re talking.”
    “Oh. Yeah,” he said, shrugging.
    I took my tray to the trash, and then returned to my seat with a frown. “And don’t call me that.”
    “What? Mad Dog?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Why not? I thought that was your Circle name. Kind of like your stripper name.”
    My eyes targeted Jenks. “Why don’t you shut up and give that hole in your face a chance to heal.”
    I’d never liked that little worm.
    “Sure thing, Travis. All you had to do was say so.” He chuckled nervously before gathering his trash and heading out.
    Before long, most of the lunchroom was empty. I glanced down to see Shepley and America still hanging around, talking with her friend. She had long, wavy hair, and her skin was still bronzed
from summer break. She didn’t have the biggest tits I’d ever seen, but her eyes . . . they were a weird gray color. Familiar somehow.
    There was no way I’d met her before, but something about her face reminded me of something I couldn’t put my finger on.
    I stood up and walked toward her. She had the hair of a porn star, and the face of an angel. Her eyes were almond shaped and uniquely beautiful. That was when I saw it: behind the beauty and
fake innocence was something else, something cold and calculating. Even when she smiled, I could see sin so deeply ingrained in her that no cardigan could hide it. Those eyes floated above her tiny
nose, and smooth features. To anyone else, she was pure and naive, but this girl was hiding something. I knew only because the same sin had dwelled in me my entire life. The difference was she held
it deep within her, and I let mine out of its cage on a regular basis.
    I watched Shepley until he felt me staring at him. When he looked my way, I nodded in the pigeon’s direction.
    Who’s that?
I mouthed.
    Shepley only responded with a confused frown.
    Her,
I silently mouthed again.
    Shepley’s mouth turned up into the annoying asshole grin he always made when he was about to do something to piss me off.
    “What?” Shepley asked, a lot louder than necessary.
    I could tell the girl knew we were talking about her, because she kept her head down, pretending not to hear.
    After spending sixty seconds in Abby Abernathy’s presence, I discerned two things: she didn’t talk much, and when she did she was kind of a bitch. But I don’t know . . . I kind
of dug that about her. She put on a front to keep assholes like me away, but that made me even more determined.
    She rolled her eyes at me for the third or fourth time. I was annoying her and found it pretty amusing. Girls didn’t usually treat me with unadulterated loathing, even when I was showing
them the door.
    When even my best smiles didn’t work, I turned it up a notch.
    “Do you have a twitch?”
    “A what?” she asked.
    “A twitch. Your eyes keep wiggling around.” If she could have murdered me with her glare, I would have bled out on the floor. I couldn’t help but laugh. She was a smart-ass and
rude as hell. I liked her more every second.
    I leaned closer to her face. “Those are some amazing eyes, though. What color is that, anyway? Gray?”
    She immediately ducked her head, letting her hair cover her face. Score. I made her uncomfortable, and that meant I was getting somewhere.
    America immediately jumped in, warning me away. I couldn’t blame her. She’d seen the endless line of girls come in and out of the apartment. I didn’t want to piss America off,
but she didn’t look angry. More like amused.
    “You’re not her type,” America said.
    My mouth fell open, playing into her game. “I’m everyone’s type!”
    The pigeon peeked over at me and grinned. A warm feeling—probably just the insane urge to throw this girl on my couch—came over me. She was different, and it was refreshing.
    “Ah! A smile,” I said. Simply calling it a smile, like it wasn’t the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, seemed wrong, but I wasn’t about to fuck up my game when I
was just getting ahead. “I’m not a rotten bastard after all. It was nice to meet you, Pidge.”
    I stood, walked around the table, and leaned into America’s ear.