A faster runner
With more control
Than anyone.
I’m sure
Even if I have to stay up all night
While my brothers party
Lifting
Until there’s no more weight to add
And I’m holding up
The whole world
And I’m so much better
Than everyone else
That they can’t even
Touch me.
thirteen
Harper Apple
“So, can we talk about… You know,” I say as I wait for Dynamo to unlock the gate and let me in. “Real life? Or is that one of the rules ofFight Club?”
“Best movie ever,” he says, swinging the gate open for me to pass.
“No arguments here,” I say.
“And yes, it’s one of the rules, Appleteeny,” he says with one of those slow, empty smiles. “We suffer all week for this. Why bring the bullshit here?”
“Fair enough,” I say, hooking my thumb into the strap of the tiny duffle where I keep a change of clothes, pepper spray, a knife, and a box of tampons to stash my money in. “Want to hang out after?”
“Are you asking me out?” he says, his smile growing wider.
I shrug, sparing a glance at the handful of dudes waiting impatiently at the gate. “Sure.”
“Ah, now, that wasn’t very convincing,” Dynamo says. “Aren’t you gonna butter me up a little first?”
I thumb the rough edges of a cigarette burn in the nylon of my bag. “You have that whole tatted up, smoking under the bleachers bad boy thing going for you,” I say. “I’m sure you get plenty of pussy.”
“Which is why you’re going to have to work a little harder to convince me,” he says.
I sigh. I knew it would take some work to get in with the Dolces, but I naïvely forgot it would also take work to get any info. But nothing in life is free or easy.
I wait while Dynamo goes to the gate and lets the guys in. Then a group of couples comes in, the guys with trucker hats and shirts with the sleeves torn off to show their tats, their big-breasted girlfriends wearing T-shirts with roses and rhinestones, their roots growing out and their thick makeup trying to hide their age. These are my people, the ones who’d rather watch me beat the shit out of someone than go to a football game.
Dynamo closes the gate and comes back over to me. “Thought up anything you could tempt me with?”
“Greasy diner,” I offer. “I’ll pay.”