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“If you don’t wanna be my punching bag, then quit asking me small-talk questions.” She opens her book to the page where the bookmark is sticking out and says, “It’sThe Handmaid’s Tale.”
“Ah. Is that the one about the dolphin with the prosthetic tail?
With a pinched expression, she narrows her eyes. “No, Crew. It’s not.” Her head shakes in annoyance. “What do you want?”
“From you? Many things—compliance, less sass, and maybe even a blow job. But I also want my key.”
“Well, you get none of those things. Now get lost. I already gave you your stupid keys.”
“Shhh!” a girl sitting alone at the table to the left says. When I look at her and she realizes who she’s shushing, her eyes shoot down to look at the table, and she tucks her head between her shoulders.
“No, Scar. You gave me some of my keys. My master was not on the ring and I need it back.”
Scar dabs her finger to her tongue and while she’s only wetting it to turn the page, I find it quite alluring. “I don’t know what to tell you. You must’ve lost it.”
Her words, however, not so alluring.
“I definitely didn’t lose it and I know for a fact that you have it.”
“Oh yeah?” Her head lifts. “What fact is that? Let’s hear it.”
“You had my keys and one is missing. That’s the fact.”
“That’s not a fact, Crew. That’s an assumption and your assumption is wrong. I don’t have your key, so please leave me alone.”
She turns another page.
“Did you even read that whole page, or are you skimming?”
Her chest inflates as she draws in a deep breath. “Actually, I’m not even reading right now because someone is chirping in my damn ear.” Her shrilling voice turns heads again, but, this time, no one says a word about it.
“Well, if you keep turning pages without reading them, you’ll lose your place.”
She sighs. “Why are you still here?”
“You’ve got five seconds, Scar. Do the right thing before you ruin study time for all these students.”
She continues to ignore me, flipping another page. This time, I’m positive she didn’t read it. Who reads that fast?
“Five.”
Still reading—or skimming lines.
“Four.”
Her head lifts.
“Three.”
“Quit it, Crew. I don’t have your key.”
“Two.”
“Don’t you dare make a scene.”
“One.”
I stand up, and she grabs me. Her attempt to pull me back in the chair is laughable.
