“So, baseball or football?”
“American football?”
“Obviously.”
“Ew, neither. Benfica Lisbon is my team. Real football.”
“What? Oh, you mean soccer.” Tox faked a snore.
“I’ll take you to a match, and we’ll see if you’re bored.”
“Fine. And I’ll take you to an NFL game, and it’ll kill you for soccer forever.”
“What’s your team?” she asked, trying to keep the quiver from her voice.
“Go Pack Go!”
“What does that even mean?”
“Packers. Green Bay?”
“If you say so.”
“You think I’m making it up?”
“It just doesn’t sound like a real place or a real team.”
“I think I’m going to enjoy proving you wrong.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’m heading into the station. I hear a train. I’ll stay on the line until the call drops.”
Calliope just then realized Tox had been having this entire conversation at a flat-out run and wasn’t even short of breath.
“Okay.”
“Tell me something weird about you.” Tox’s voice was fading in and out.
“How long do you have?”
“I’m guessing about three minutes.”
She sighed. “We won’t even scratch the surface. Let’s see. I can lie on my stomach and pull both my legs over my shoulders so my toes touch the floor by my face.” She thought she heard a groan over the line.
“You’re a freak. What else?” he asked.
“Patterns in nature freak me out. Like beehives or nautilus shells or algae.” She shuddered.
“That’s a thing. I read about it. Next.”
“Uh-uh, your turn. Show me your weird.” Calliope heard the squealing brakes of the subway and the rumble of the cars.
“Hmm, let’s see. Where to begin? I’m friends with a trans prostitute.”
“That’s pretty good. You owe me one more.” The call was starting to break up.
“I have an involuntary tattoo.”