Cal is sitting with Abby. Talking about who’s with who. About the mating rituals. The animal rutting.
“She’s way out of his league,” Cal says. The girl has long blond hair, an objectively pretty face. He is already balding.
“Maybe he’s nice?” Abby says. Cal laughs. She sees Abby’s pale arms.
“Come on,” her friend defends. “It’s not so hard to believe.”
“Not for you,” Cal says. She sees red. She sees animal rutting. She sees Abby in the sheets. “And that’s fine.” Abby shrugs.
“Hey, look who it is!” She doesn’t look. Her other friend does.
“Oh my god. That guy got so drunk last night. He went home with some random person.”
Cal looks up. His eyes are bright blue. She walks away from her friends. He has a red solo cup.
She takes it. He looks down.
“They like to talk,” she says.
“Yeah…I know,” Silas says. They are standing close. Someone else walks up.
“This your next one?” she asks Silas. She doesn’t look at Cal.
“What?” he says.
“Can’t help yourself, can you? Two dates and onto the next shiny thing.”
He steps back. Eyebrows pulled together. Hurt.
“How did you…?”
“She told me,” the girl says. “She told me how you’re good for nothing but a quick fuck. And not even a good one at that.”
“I-I…” His voice is pitched. Close to breaking.
“What,” she smirks, “you’re gonna cry now?” But she is talking to Cal who is between them now.
“You were saying something?” Cal says. Her voice is soft. Dangerous. Animal rage.
The girl never answers. It turns out. Cal’s fists move against her face, and she falls down. Blood patterns her face as the fists move against her face. She is on the floor. Supine. Helpless.
Supine. Helpless. Red.
Nihilistic Porcupine 