Kulti

No one ever says that fear is logical, because it isn’t. It’s stupid and irrational and on a scale of one to ten it sucked about a fifty.

“Okay. Fine. But maybe next time call me an imbecile when I’m not in front of your girlfriend, would that work for you? ”

I had to get up early so I did it, but that was only after I lay in bed for approximately seven minutes, and then followed that up by sitting on the edge of my bed and staring absently forward for at least another five.

“They,” and he pointed at Kulti and me, who had surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, played like we’d been teammates for years, “can’t be on the same team together!”

“Hello,” I managed to say in a voice that sounded just like my own and not like I was on the brink of shitting a small pony.

It was one thing to be an ass to me or my teammates. But he’d hurt my papi’s feelings, and that shit just didn’t fly.

High-intensity drills, my favorite. I must have smiled or something because I heard Jenny clearly murmur, “You’re a monster,” under her breath.

“I don’t want it to take you away as well. You are the least shameful thing in my life, Sal. Understand?”

All right. I cleared my throat and sang under my breath, “Tough shit, frankfurter.” There was a pause before he let out a snicker. “Sal, I don’t know how you haven’t gotten elbowed in the face yet.”