cigarette daydreams

/2

"No way, Connor," Karden retorted. He glared at his friend. "No way am I talking to Lydi."

The chocolate-skinned boy shrugged in return. "I dunno, bro. You've been looking at her all class."

"She's shaving her pencils with a Swiss Army Knife, that's why."

"It's called being resourceful."

Karden sat back in his seat. "Then why don't you go talk to her, if you find her so 'resourceful'?"

Connor shrugged. "Not my place."

"You're insane."

"That's a legal term. As I have never been tried for insanity, there's no way you could possibly prove that." Connor grinned, and poked Karden with a pencil. "Talk to her, man. What's the harm?"

Karden shot a caustic look at his friend. Thankfully for Connor, the bell rang. Karden grabbed his things and pushed through the students to the door. They allowed it; he was the student body president, lacrosse and soccer captain, and any number of other labels the masses decided to give him.

Connor didn't let it drop. "I've heard she listens to your kind of music."

"So? Amber Delaney does too. And she's actually human." Karden gave Connor a look. "That's a plus."

"Lydi's human." He frowned. "Or, I think she is. Could be wrong."

"Connor, you're always wrong. That's how your life works. That's why you're the captain of football, not the chess club."

They reached Karden's locker. Connor leaned against the one beside it, giving Karden an encouraging look. "Admit it, bro: you're interested in her."

"Why would I be?"

A soft voice intruded upon their conversation. "Because I'm so unpredictable. Isn't that right, Connor?"

The boys froze, then turned to see Lydi standing behind them, books held to her chest and head cocked to one side. She looked like a bird: thin wrists, spindly ankles, bright red lipstick.

She didn't smile, or frown, or do anything but raise a narrow eyebrow at them. "Expect the unexpected, boys."

And she walked off.

Karden swallowed tightly.

He looked at Connor.

"Yeah. I'm interested."