Whenever she spoke she somehow gave the expression that she wasn’t finished, so Mark listened on, silent, his grin growing as she talked on. She knew his name, that was a mild surprise, but altogether likely, it was just strange when his infamy lashed back upon him, preceding him by, in this case, a day or two? Then again, if she listened around, she could get an biography of everyone in the school who had ever had enough balls to tell anyone they did anything. By her tone, he also guessed she knew why he was famous. However, by her expression, although it looked as if she was trying to hide it, he turned her on. With years of experience, he guessed he could read this intention in any chick. Either that, of course, or he turned every chick he talked to on. Either one would have been logical.
She liked dead people apparently. He had dealt with that kind before, and on multiple occasions. Morbid little girls, very similar to one another. Listened to slipknot, wore black coats, all that crap, stereotypes wouldn’t exist if there weren’t so many out around in the world. This one seemed different, however, as if she was fascinated by such a morbid subject matter for a different reason. If she wasn’t like the stereotypes, there was a potential for a pretty good time. Take off all that makeup and all those clothes, he figured, and most chicks squealed the same way. Maybe she really was as she behaved? It would be interesting to find out…
Now did he have a problem with it? Cute. His grin broadened, of course there was a problem, if you walked around with these pictures, you could find half of these people a few cities over, and living very interesting lives. He looked over the pictures, Southridge, Brekenhill, Oklahoma, Mexico, dead, and actually kidnapped. He could never figure out why the runners decided to break for it, they would have been so much comfortable living town life. It was really too bad for them. She might have been interested to know that, but he decided to keep a few secrets, they hadn’t wronged him enough for him to give them away. The dead kid though, that was an interesting story, as he himself was personally involved. It was recent, only a year ago that he saw it.
The dead kid was always on ends with Bobby Cole, and even the highshcoolers heard about their legendary battles. Eventually, they were both suspended, and for about two weeks each. Just long enough. He and some friends were smoking in the woods, and had been for quite a bit when they heard someone coming. There he was, the dead kid himself, walking in some kind of bloody mess, expressionless, and groaning as he tangled himself in the spiked vines hanging from the trees. He had a good collection on him, so much that they eventually stopped him, and he hanged there, motionless and dripping blood all over the ground. And there they were, a mile in the hell of the town park, high, and watching a bleeding corpse wrapped up in spikes. There wasn’t much to do, Mark knew that if he confessed anything, they’d find a way to pin it on him. Looking back, he was probably a little high paranoid, but the three ended up digging with their bare hands, the work taking years in a single minute, and untangled the corpse, careful to keep their clothes clean. And it was there they buried him. Nowadays, Mark had no idea as to where that spot could have, been, or if it had actually happened. Still, he concluded, he would rather be high or drunk when something like that happened.
Yes, indeed he had had fun that night. But he was curious as to how she knew that, she definitely didn’t hear it from anyone. Perhaps she even figured it out, what a bright girl. And fun with Stacy, two for two, she was on a role. Not very tight? Right again, but it was to be expected. Good for a spell? And she was doing so well. No, it was priceless, every time. Of course, it was only Stacy on occasion, but she had a way of simply revolting it, dreading it, that he could find nowhere else.
Games? Stacy knew better than that. Slap her? She wished he had, but he really didn’t want to at all. What he did want to do, however, he did, and slapping was certainly a great deal tamer. It was true that he didn’t like Stacy, but that’s where he got his kicks. If only he could feel that way with someone he did like. Just maybe.
Yes, this was a chick that was used to getting what she wanted from guys. He grinned again as she stared out the window. She was now probably making the mistake that many girls before her regretted even thinking about, getting to know the real Sade. It was fun to watch their processes, their tactics, their effort, all focused on the singular objective of finding out what made him tick. It wasn’t an easy one to answer, and the path to enlightenment wasn’t real clean. He’d humor her.
“A burger? As long as we’re going to McDonald’s, I’ve got a better idea, you’ll think I bought you Reims Cathedral.” He smirked as he gave a jerking direction towards their destination, and put his hand on the small of her back to lead her out of her own territory, it was no longer her choice.
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