Typical Library Talk

“Damn,” the teen murmured, taking an appreciative nibble at his cuticle. “You’re doing good.”

“Yeah, no shit.” His friend sighed and fluffed her bangs. She glanced over the bookshelf behind her, as though to ensure that their conversation, and her forthcoming comment, remain hush-hush to the rest of the library. “My brother showed me.”

“No kidding.” He leaned in. “So then… where does it go?”

Oooh where does it gooo,” came her sing-song tease.

“Seriously.”

“Please,” she smirked and stuck a strand of yellow-gold hair back behind her ear. “Couldn’t trust that with a pleb.”

“You said.” He leaned forward toward the computer on the table in front of them and tilted the screen towards his new adversary, encouraging her. His eyebrows stood at attention. His frown was beggarly. “When you figure it out, you said.”

“Sure.” She drummed her fingers on the table, prolonging their standoff.

“Oh! A rainbow!” A second girl giggled at their computer screen, having approached from the library entrance. She was a glasses-wearing mushroom, all in brown. The boy squirmed in his seat.

“Yeah, she’s not helping me out,” he sniveled. “I don’t know where the gold goes, or like, the arrow.” He scratched at his thumb. “I’m on level five,” he explained. “You play?”

“No,” she unbuttoned her dark coat, “not my thing.”

“What color is that?” The blonde reached out to the new arrival’s scarf. “Ew.”

“It’s like insults and unhelpfulness are the only things you know how to do,” the boy fired at her. “Besides being annoying.”

“Pathetic,” the bespectacled mushroom laughed at him. “And it’s red– no, maroon. It’s classy.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” conceded the blonde, dropping the issue. “Here, I’ll show you the trick.” She pulled the screen toward the other girl. “It’s not even hard,” she simpered at the boy. He glowered from across the table.

“Nah,” the mushroom replied. She draped her scarf over the back of a chair. “Really– I’m not that interested.” She gave the boy across from her a pointed look: “Sorryyy.” He scowled back as though she really were a fungus.

“Whatever,” he attempted.

“Dude” the blonde scolded. “It’s just a video game.”

“No,” the other girl corrected, “it’s his life.” She shot finger guns at him from across the table.

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