Young and Loaded

Chapter Seven

   The ride back to the diner was completely and utterly silent.

   A part of me was grateful for it. Had the three killjoys that had come to pick us up tried to push a conversation with the two of us, I probably would've lost it. And considering the murderous look on Ghoul's face that had settled there because he'd been forced to sit next to me indicated similar feelings.

   At least that was something the two of us had in common.

   But our definitive, angry, and mournful silence didn't stop them from talking to each other. And neither of us was feeling asshole enough to stop them or tell them to shut the fuck up on the spot. That, and it turned out that Zone gossip actually can be interesting when it's told from the point of view of one of the killjoys sitting in front of us.

   Rumor had it that this and that and so many other things in store that I practically devoured it all. I got lost in the juicy gossip of it all, listening silently as the other two asked questions to the one killjoy telling the story. I had to resist to practically beg for details with everything that the one girl was saying, her long, dark brown hair swaying from side to side as she looked back and forth between her team mates, sending the occasional flitting glance towards the two of us in the back.

   She was the only out of the three of them with a natural hair color. One of them dressed in dark greens, her hair a similar story, contrasting greatly with her pale skin. The other had a shock of purple hair and a vibrant pop off all sorts of pinks, greens, and purples. She hurt my eyes just by looking at the colors that layered over her dark, radiation ridden skin. But the girl speaking all the time was a balance between the two. Her voice was also considerably less grating than neon girl and the evergreen tree sitting beside her.

   I had to especially suppress my urge when she started talking about Kobra and Jet's ghosting.

   She knew a lot, I'll give her that. But she seemed to know almost nothing when it came to that specific topic. And the fact that the girl driving and the girl in the passenger seat or even Ghoul didn't ask shit about it kind of bothered the fuck out of me. Bothered me greatly. The silence was heavier than the guilt plaguing my mind, sitting on my chest and crushing me like a boulder. So I settled for staring out of the window as the killjoy continued from one gossip topic to the next, sometimes jumping from story to story and connecting them like a master story teller.

   And as much as I despise books, if she ever wrote one and it sounds like the way she talks about stupid gossip, then to hell with my unofficial book ban. Of course I'm going to buy it for who knows how many carbons she'd charge for it. And of course I'm going to read it. Because. She was an absolute master at drawing people in with her voice. Like a modern day siren, crafting and stringing words together like a master storyteller. I wish I was a master storyteller. Maybe then my teammates would actually listen to me. 

   And once again, my award-winning nick name skills pulled through as I decided to call her Eyebrows. Because of the fucking fullness of her eyebrows that rested like furry caterpillars over her practically pitch black eyes.

   I think it was then that I realized that I needed to get better at nickname giving.

   I knew I was absolute shit at it. That, and one of these days, I'm gonna use that nickname out loud and probably get ghosted. 

   I was on edge with intense curiosity by the time we got to the Diner, about an hour or so later. An hour or so where I'd spent the majority of my time listening to the pointless rambles of a teenage girl and contemplating the death of Kobra and Jet. And if Grace was still alive, of course. Because I had no idea if she was at that point. Thanks a lot, Eyebrows, for your lack of information on a topic that actually kind of matters right now.