A picture of the Reds’ mascot—an angry, snarling chicken—was plastered on the wall just inside the door. Gid and Theo each smacked it on their way in. They both stopped dead in their tracks when I didn’t follow suit, and I nearly ran into them. We stood in silence for a moment staring at each other. “What?” I asked, getting antsy. I’d only been traded a few times, but it always felt like showing up to high school as the new kid after all the cliques had been formed. Theo scowled and pointed to the bird on the wall. “Pound the cock.” “It’s a chicken,” I argued. They shared an exasperated look
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