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“Well, trust me,” I said. “I’m more intense than I look. I’m intense like a lion is orange.” “So, like…medium intense? Since a lion is kind of a tannish color?” “No, they’re orange.” I frowned. “Aren’t they? I’ve never actually seen one.”
The sun sank down like a giant golden pat of butter melting onto the corn of New Jersey. Or…wait. That abandoned city was kind of more like spinach than corn. So the sun sank down into the spinach of Jersey.
I hadn’t been a nerd, mind you. I’d just been the type of guy who spent a lot of time by himself, focused entirely on a single consuming interest.
The sudden and abrupt removal of my all-consuming goal…well, it was like I was a donut, and somebody had sucked all the jelly out of me. But I could stuff new jelly in there. It would just get my hands a little sticky in the process.
This time, when she’d pointed it at me, she’d flicked the safety on. If that wasn’t true love, I don’t know what was.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered over the line, “I’m an expert on stupid.” “You’re…” “Like, I can spot stupidity, because I know it so well. The way an exterminator knows bugs really well, and can spot where they’ve been? I’m like that. A stupidinator.” “Never say that word again,” Prof said.
“That’s an answer in the same way that ketchup can be hair gel.” She raised an eyebrow. “You see, it’s technically true, but—” “I understood,” Tia said.
“You sound like one of them.” Them? And then it hit me—she meant the Faithful. Sparks, it was true. Where there are villains, there will be heroes. Just wait. They will come….My father’s words, on the day he died.
“I’ll be quiet as a buttered snail sneaking through a Frenchman’s kitchen.”
Without the glowing fruit, the place was as black as the inside of a can of black paint that had also been painted black.

