She was seventeen years old. A young woman, her grandmother would say. Her light hair – it was almost white – was bound back in a pony tail. Green streaks flowed into a black tail-end that touched the middle of her back. She wore sunglasses to protect her over-sensitive eyes from the light. Her gray sweater spelled “DH” for Dinston High in red capital letters. Since it wasn’t Friday, she had to wear a khaki skirt and her red knee-highs. The green streaks and the black army boots were her ‘statements’.
She got a tablet out of her backpack and turned off the music she was listening to. She dialed her friend’s number and waited for the light to signal she was online. Then she pressed “Link” and a round face appeared on screen.
“Do, you’d better hurry up, man, or you’re gonna be late!”
“I know, Seychel. The subway isn’t going to move any faster just because I’m in a rush, you know.”
“Right. Do, you have to hurry! He’s standing right here right now.” Seychel did a literal 180 and adjusted her tablet so that the camera could capture what – or rather who – was standing right behind her.
“What’s up with you and that guy you keep bothering me about?”
“Ah, Do,” she said batting her eye lashes, “you know how I am with new bait.” She laughed. “I can’t wait to get my hooks into it.”
“Just talk to the guy, Sey,” Do sighed, “I’ll be there in five.”
