What does Tuesday mean? I remember hearing that Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday are all named after the Norse gods, Odin, Thor, and Freya respectively. Sunday and Monday are named after the big balls in the sky.

I could probably find the answer if I looked it up, but for some reason, I’m… apprehensive?

I feel a bad juju coming from that day, a lot of stuff has happened on a Tuesday. Elvis died, Constantinople fell, not to mention, more recently and personally for me, the Gator fell on a Tuesday. Usually, I’m not one for superstition.

I suppose anything can happen, considering I no longer know how the world works.

When I was preparing myself to become a super hero, I never even considered the possibility of gaining super powers, I just worked out and tried to learn about how I could help homeless people. But I did get super powers, and I have fought super villains.

I used to understand, or rather, had a loose grasp on how the world worked. An objects output of force is proportional to its mass, an object of a large size and mass if not distributed over a large enough area, will collapse. Physics, or whatever.

That all made sense to me, until I witnessed a killer robot float into the sky.

But you know, after giving it some time, you get used to it.

Is what I would say if it was just killer robots, but it isn’t. There’s witches, and monsters, and extra dimensional beings. If it was one concrete set of rules, just sci fi, or just magic, cool, but I don’t know how to make heads or tails of this situation.

I like marvel. But does the multiverse make any cosmological sense? No! That’s fine for a story, but being completely unaware of the simplest facets of reality is sort of unnerving.

So maybe Tuesday is cursed. All I have as proof is a bad feeling in my gut, but that’s enough.

Last Tuesday I hung out with a drug dealer. Much like the last time we were together, we just walked around, and talked about random stuff. What food we like, what the grime on Mullet’s car was (It was blueish?), and what our parents do for a living.

“They both work in property development.” she started, “There’s big money in the foreign sector, which is where they are now. They probably aren’t going to show up until July. That’s when there’s a little less on their plate. During June- Never mind, you don’t care about the specifics, and I’m going on and on.”

She left me a space to speak. “My… dad’s dead. And my mum-” I moved my arms subconsciously, the way I motioned made it look like I was trying to coax out the words.

They never came.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I didn’t mean to bring up your dad.” She went silent.

I recognised the expression on her face, not because I’d seen it before, but because I’d made it. You get a certain feeling inside you when you lie to somebody, and when that lie leads to serious places for them.

I'd made it last week when i forced Adonis to lie.

Most of what she said was probably true, Bastard probably owned tons of properties globally. He probably did have a lot going on, too much to visit Ireland. But she had lied to me about how she got the money. Who she was.

I eventually pushed out, “I didn’t know him. Not really. I live with his mum on the weekend, but she doesn’t talk much about the past.”

I suddenly asked, “Where is the giants causeway?”

She furrowed her brow, “You’re going from your dad to a tourist attraction?? Little fucky isn’t it??” I slowly smiled, she did too.

“I don’t think you can look at the dead with reverence for too long. I did when I was a kid, but I’m sure the perfect picture I made of him wasn’t right at all. Let’s just move on, tell me what county the giant's causeway is in.”

Rather than my dad, I think it was actually my mother I didn’t want to talk about.

Saoirse took a few seconds to think, “Must be Meath.” I looked at her, “Meath isn’t even in the north.”

She pointed a finger at me, “No, the causeway’s in the south. That’s why tourists talk about the rocks when they visit Ireland.”

I shook my head, “Pretty sure tourists don’t know there is a north and south of Ireland. It’s just the tiny island beside England. Not to mention, why would anybody try to build a bridge to Scotland in Meath?”

She snorted, “What are you talking about?? Hahaha! There’s no way you believe that shite. I had you figured as the practical sort.”

After thinking for a second, I reaffirmed, “I am. I don’t think Fionn Mac Cumhail was real, but the people who made up that myth might have. Like, why would they say it was a bridge to Scotland, if it’s closer to England.” She laughed harder, “Because they were sheep herders living in mud huts? How would they know enough about geography to tell you which hill across the ocean is which??”

After she stopped, she commented, “I’ll never get tired of the accent down here.”

I guessed as to what she was talking about, “You don’t think that those 'farmers living in huts' actually called a mythological giant Finn McCool, do you?”

She considered my logic and her eyes went a little wide, “Holy shit…”

After walking a little more, climbing over a wall, me calling her a fat ass for struggling to get over the wall, she asked me, “Why do you know so much about Irish mythology Sam?”

I answered, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because… I am Irish?” I let out a mock gasp.

That was a lie of course. Despite being irish, I don’t think I would know anything about those old myths if I hadn’t done some research after meeting Feoli. I’d thought the most common threat I’d face would be banshees or goblins or whatever, but no, it’s machine gods.

“Ok yeah, but you’ve only told me stories from places you’ve never even been to, tell me something about Kerry, or Tralee.”

“I honestly can’t think of anything. Not everywhere has stories about ghosts or monsters.”

She rolled her eyes, “I can’t decide what’s more shite. A place that believes in ghosts, or a place where nobody does. It’s like, either these types oftowns are crazy or they’re boring.”

I smiled a little, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Nope. I just think it’s fun to go to places where people see ghosts. Or rather, it’s funny.” I considered that it might be better to actually do something.

So, like always, I lied.

“Now that I think about it, there was a story about weird noises coming from an old building not far from here, it’d be 15-minute walk.”

She spun in front of me, wide eyed, “You knew about something like that and didn’t say anything?? We’ve been doing nothing this whole time and you never even mentioned the haunted house?!?”

“Sorry? I didn’t think you’d be in a ghost hunting mood. Usually, people do normal things like get fast food, or get drunk, but seeing as I don’t have any money, here we are.”

She looked at me sadly, “Is that the extent of your social interactions?? God you’re pathetic.”

My confidence shattered, I was at a loss for words, “I- that is completely besides- let’s just go to the stupid hut.”

We both laughed about it after some time.

I thought about the places I could feasibly take her, parts of town that could give a spooky aesthetic.

I settled on a part of town that was really run down, even more so than where I live. It was an under developed area on the fringe of the city, the opposite side of town from Clover’s mansion. There was a small residential area between it, and the proper country side. There might have been thirteen or fifteen houses on the street we were going down. I’d been here as Shamrock quite a few times, it’s a popular place for dealing and doing illicit substances.

I’d be worried about bringing somebody here, if it wasn’t for the fact that Clover, the probability altering superhuman was looking out for Sam.

Although I was sure she could handle an armed thug, make them slip on a banana peel or something, I’d still like to avoid that possibility.

“Alright, alright, let’s play a game. We’re getting close to the place, so let's play a game. I’ll… I’ll try and make the ghost angry if you can guess which of these hut it is.”

She looked at me blankly, “I thought that was what we were going to do anyway.”

“Ok, whatever, I’ll sing the dick-ass song, that good enough for you?”

She still looked blankly at me, “The what?”

“It’s a song you sing when- uh, when you want someone to dick you in the ass.” She stretched the corners of her mouth down.

“Pretty sure there’s a name for wanting to get dicked by a ghost Sam, and honestly, I’m not sure I want to watch that. Didn’t one of the ghostbusters have sex with a ghost? Not in the movie, one of the actors or something.”

I tried to steer her away from the whole spector sploodging thing, “Just point at a house and if you get it right, I’ll make an ass out of myself.”

She shrugged and pointed randomly at a house, “That one. That’s the ghost house.”

The house, or rather, the large shed she pointed at, was a fairly boring pick. It was third from last on our right-hand side. There was a slight hole in between the front facing wall and the hanging roof that was either created or worsened by water damage.

Walking up to it, I imagined the interior to have an earth floor, sadly, once we forced open the door, we came out on a damp, brick red and brown carpet.

I stuck my tongue out and made a ‘bleugh’ noise. Clover commented, “Now you know how I feel.”

I got a whiff of the air soon after.

“What’s the story behind this place?? You never said.” I answered quickly, trying to keep the story brief.

“A few years back, a 17-year-old boy killed himself. He left a note somewhere around here, just underneath his limp body. When the Garde found the note, they were so shocked by its contents, that they kept it from the public, and even the family themselves. They didn’t really question why he did it, he had always been distant, dark, and with the unexpected passing of his little sister, they didn’t blame him for doing what he did. But the mother wasn’t convinced, she pressed the Garde to release the letter, her son’s final words. The Garde did not, but they did let her read it."

"They felt she deserved to know what really happened to her children. As it turns out, her daughter’s accident wasn’t an accident after all. It didn’t seem strange for a girl so small to have drowned in that river, she never was a good swimmer. After the Garde found the note, they placed an investigation on the girl’s death, and found there was evidence of foul play. The note served as a confession, not only of the son’s involvement, but of more occult involvements."

"THEY had told him that there needed to be a sacrifice, for power in the next life. At least, that’s what he wrote down for the authorities. ‘For him’, the Garde explained, ‘it must have seemed logical in his state of delusion, to take his own life, to enter the second life sooner.’ But of course, many doubt the boy was deluded at all, passersby had reported inhumane cackling from this. Very. Shack.”

I looked back at Saoirse, seemingly uninterested in the story judging from her expression.

She had tied her hair into a bun, to keep it from touching the peeling walls while she had a look around. “That’s not the story, is it?? Reaks of American pop culture. I’m pretty sure the Police wouldn’t keep that information from the public because it was ‘scary’.”

I made up a new, more plausible story.

“A tourist got lost one night, and she was passing by this shack. She claimed to have seen a ghost peaking its head through the door at her. Not like, phasing through the door, just looking through it.”

I looked back to the flimsy screen door, turning back to Saoirse, she was gone.

I’ll admit, I was a little spooked for a second, after noticing a doorway that had gone unseen in the dim, damp, room.

I slowly and quietly peaked around the corner.

“Can you help me with these chairs? After walking around for like, an hour, I’d like to take a seat for a few seconds.”

I was a little startled by her voice. Did I scare myself with my own story? No, I think it was more so that this was a seedy area, and I decided to take a teenage girl here. Not to mention, this hut felt like it was about to fall at any moment.

The other room was about a third of the size of the first, more comparable to a large closet, just about fitting two people, and the dirty crap cluttering the place.

Among the junk, we found 5 folding chairs, one of which was fairly clean. I would have offered it to Saoirse, but she took it before I could. Unfolding the second cleanest chair we sat down opposing each other, in case a ghost crept up behind us. I sat facing the exit, more worried about the living.

We sat there for a few minutes, I thought about going to sleep, but decided not to, in case there was a chance of rubbing my leg in the white stain on the chair. I looked across at Clover. It wasn’t a school day, so we were in normal clothes, I had a baggy hoody and track suit bottoms on, clover was in basically the same thing she was wearing when I met her at McDonalds a few months ago, with the padded jacket being excluded.

I guess it was warming up a little, but we’re still in Ireland like. So, she was probably a little cold, sitting in a damp room with nothing but a tiny white tank top.

I’m only now thinking, that top was probably more expensive than all of my shirts combined. Not to mention that purse she was carrying around.

As I’d mentioned earlier, she had her hair tied back, only leaving her bangs and whatever you’d call those little strands of hair that go past your ears. She had one leg on top of the other, on top of that, her elbow.

“Well??” She pulled a shitty smile, and I realised what she meant.

Solemnly, I stood up. She unfolded her legs and looked up at me.

It was time for the song.

“This goes out to the dumbass ghost causing paranormal activity to occur in the Irish county of Kerry.” She laughed a little at that, before I tried to think up some rhymes.

“Oh, I’ve got an ass, the greatest ass that you will ever see,

An ass that’s built like Jupiter, and I’m giving it to Thee.

And when your dick is crushed, under its enourmous gravity,

Don’t go blaming me,

Cause I told twice, its visible, from the bottom of the sea! Hey-o!

Round and red, a fat ol’ maw,

Tight and firm, it’ll make ya caw!

Bouncing balls, fat and full, prepare to make your draw!

My cheeks will pull, upon that bull, till it’s rendered raw

Because there’s neery’ a greater ass you have ever-ever saw!

Oooooh- this is the ass I’ve spent my life, grooooowing juuuust foooor yooooooou, heyy!”

I was honestly impressed by what I had thought up in the five minutes walking over here, didn’t think I had the brain capacity to sing it all in one go. Proud with my performance, I grinned.

“Is that it??” My smile slowly faded, “Uh, well I guess there’s another verse from the other guy’s perspective…”

She looked at me with a blank face, “Sit back down Sam.” I did.

“I’m going to give you something. Don’t say no.” She toughened her lower lip. I thought about what was happening with this mood change. She reached into that little purse and took out a phone. Her big green eyes met mine.

She stretched her arm out to me.

“Surprise!” She started to smile again, “Now you can’t say I don’t do anything for you. I have it set up and all-“

“I can’t take that.”

Her smile squiggled a little, “Don’t be difficult. Can you think of a single reason not to?? Other than it hurting your pride??”

I could think of one major reason not to take it from her, but Sam doesn’t know that Saoirse’s money comes from dealing drugs. “Uhm…”

I tried to think of something, but came up short.

“I know you’re not supposed to say how much a present costs, but this thing cost £450- that’s I don’t know how many Euros, but it’s an even bigger figure.”

“Bleugggh.” Making the sound was involuntary. Saoirse just laughed, “Ok, maybe I went a little overboard, this probably costs a lot, huh??”

I raised my head back up to look at her.

“Listen Sam, I want to talk to you. About… anything. And, that’s actually challenging to do, when I only see you at school with Mullet creeping, and you- not existing socially.”

She wasn’t being very convincing. “Let’s watch a movie! Or GO to the giant’s causeway! Or we could find a haunted house that doesn’t smell like piss.”

That was pretty convincing. I’d-

There was a rattling in the thin walls of the shack. I looked at the roof, expecting rain to leak through. It didn’t. It stopped after a while, I chalked it up to heavy wind at the time.

“Can you just take the damn phone?? My arm is getting tired.” Despite her tone she was still smiling. Before I reached out to grab it, I thought about her, how I felt about her. Despite the sudden chill in the room, and what I was about to do being morally ambiguous, I felt just a little warm inside.

There was something weird about how she was looking at me, she hadn’t really made a face like that before.

She took her eyes off me for a single second, looking over my shoulder. I heard her scream, and was blinded by the phone being thrown at my face. I heard the scuffling of the chair on the carpet while I tried to catch the hundred-dollar piece of aluminium.

Once I did, I looked at Saoirse who was nearly pressing against the wall flat, slightly moving for the door. “Sam. Get up. We’re leaving. Right now.” I smiled, thinking of the perfect, cheesy line to describe the expression on her face.

I turned ever so slightly, once I felt a tickle on my neck, I knew she had actually seen something.

There was a sound in my ear, like the foaming of the sea, but with a guttural pulse alongside it.

Despite the surge of goose bumps every time it rumbled, I kept that smile on my face.

“I… aggghhh-I do-c- I don’t have aaaa ‘bull’. Ahah… I don’t have a ‘bull’…. Aheheheh. Ahahahhahhahaaaghh.”

It wasn’t a sound, not in the traditional sense anyway.

It was speaking, but no breathe came out of it, though the whole air felt like it had become even more mired, thick. It was more so an understanding, the concept of the creature speaking, you might say through telepathy, though I don’t know what that would feel like.

I tried to keep the illusion of being ignorant of this supernatural phenomenon, Sam doesn’t deal with ghosts after all.

Without thinking twice, I rotated my neck, curled my spine over the seat.

Not even a millimetre’s distance. Just like there hadn’t been any ‘noise’, something about it told me it wasn’t actually there.

Its head looked like a caricature, the way it bloated in some places but compressed in others, like some strange deformed fruit grown in unnatural conditions.

One of its eyes was as big as my jaw, just from the portion that was visible between the arching eyelids. The other was empty. If it was there, if it was physical, I could probably stick my open hand in it without any resistance.

It smiled, gurgled, upon meeting eyes with me.

I turned back to Saoirse, who was now grimacing.

I couldn’t manage a smile anymore, so I wore a blank expression. “What, did you see a ghost or something?”

I laughed, and rose from my seat, “We probably should get out of here. It’s getting pretty cold out.”

Walking over to the door, I could feel it moving at the exact same pace as me, like its head was somehow connected to my neck. Once I got a foot away from the door, I could feel it moving, the air getting increasingly thick as I approached the exit.

I could vaguely make out four fingers and a thumb closing around my entire head. Rather than being blinded, it was like being under water, I could see a little, but it was blurred and contorted, like the thing itself.

Saoirse shouted, “WAIT! WAIT WAIT! Uh, let’s stay here just a little longer, ten minutes, ok? I- uh, have a friend who knows a little about this stuff, maybe she can make something cool happen, huh?”

I thank God that Sam isn’t really a regular person, if he was, then Saoirse would’ve been too late.

I’ve been crushed before, and if this is how rough the thing got when I was about to leave its haunt, then I can’t imagine how hard it would get if I actually left it.

Stepping back a bit I was able to speak, as the ghost released its grip. I said to Saoirse, with a little smile to try and get her to calm down, “Fine. But just for a little while, ok? This place is as gross as…”

I couldn’t think of something to finish with.

My nose began to bleed. “Oh…”

“You must have thrown that thing pretty freaking hard, huh? Haha.”

She laughed awkwardly before excusing herself.

She was able to leave the hut just fine, I could hear her talking on the phone, I couldn’t make out any specifics though.

.

.

.

I let half an hour pass by, pretending to sleep at the ten-minute mark, of course I couldn’t actually sleep, not with this thing attached to me. I was now sorely regretting getting the luck girl to point to the 'haunted house' for me. Though I am starting to understand how her power works a little better. I think. Maybe not.

Apart from crushing me with the atmosphere, or whatever this thing did when I tried to leave, I didn’t feel like anything was wrong, apart from the weird noises, they made me uncomfortable. Saoirse was standing outside, occasionally checking in on me.

Eventually, when I was actually starting to fall asleep, Saoirse ran outside, and started talking to somebody. I opened my eyes, curious to see who this exorcist was.

I couldn’t think of anybody I knew anyway.

The light peeking through the small screen door was blotted out by a shadow that seemed to contest the mire. His frame was so wide, he not only needed to crouch to get through the door, but had to come in sideways. That’s not to say his side was much thinner; his torso was about twice as thick as mine.

This giant man, seethed with rage, barely able to keep it from boiling out, it seemed. That much was clear from his physical annoyance and discomfort at squeezing through the door, into a space just as tight a fit.

I couldn’t make out his face; he wore some sort of plastic helmet, with some sort of material falling over the majority of his face, but in the irratic spasms of his muscles I could tell he was tense.

Despite the lack of light, and my clouded vision, I could clearly make out the expression etched into the sliver of his face.

I’ve known people who seem to always be angry, but this man made me believe someone can go their entire life filled with nothing but hatred.

He shot a glare at me, and then the spirit.

It didn’t seem to mind, cackling still.

He moved to the corner on my right, and I watched him, waiting for him to say or do something.

My focus was taken off him when I heard the two girls come through the door.

Saoirse came in first reassuring me, “Don’t worry about that guy Sam that’s just my friends- brother. Yeah, that’s her brother. Don’t mind his weird mask, it’s a little chilly out after all.”

He was shirtless.

A familiar face followed after her, one I wasn’t expecting, but made a lot of sense. Seong-soo Ae, or Ae Seong-soo, (I’m still not sure on the correct ordering of korean names), carried a large red pillow under her arm.

She laughed heartily, “Did you let him fall asleep?”

Saoirse turned to her, “You said it was better if he slept.”

Ae laughed again, almost matching the cackle coming from behind me, “No I said it will do no good if he falls asleep. I can’t even see his soul anymore, we’re either too late or nearly out of time.”

She smiled wider seeing Saoirse’s wide-eyed expression. My classmate looked back between me and her, before letting out a weird squeak.

“Just ask him some ‘soul search’ questions while I get ready, see if he’s still all there.” All of this was pretty worrying, but I didn’t mind much at the time, I was too tired to care.

Come to think of it, that might have been an expected affect, seeing as falling asleep was supposed to be a bad thing. I also considered that it was weird that the person saving me was laughing while I was getting my soul eaten or whatever.

Saoirse bent down to talk to me slowly, “Sam, what’s your favourite thing?? What keeps you going?? What makes you want to live to see tomorrow?? Or next week?? Answer honestly, and if you can’t think of anything…”

She actually choked at the end.

What do you do when you don’t have a reason to live?

I suppose that’s the epitome of the phrase ‘going through the motions’, when somebody is so miserable, they have to switch their brain off to keep going, because life is such a slog, so thick with crap, that they can’t find a reason to live.

Sort of like every day being an unlucky Tuesday.

I looked over to the masked man, then back to Saoirse.

“Yo- um, no… I guess, there’s a really good run… of moon knight- running… at the minute. The comic... not the show. The show’s bad, but the comic’s cool.” Saoirse laughed at me.

“I don’t even know what that is.”

Ae was kneeling on the pillow, she had it placed in the door way. “Spirit, soul and mind that has lost its body untimely, unjustly. Essence of the remainder, will and feeling, without action, or…”

I couldn’t understand what she was saying at this point, she might have been speaking in korean a little, or it might have been the growning growing louder in my ears.

“Let’s play a game. You and me. And Han Chul-moo, over there, he will be our table. That’s not his real name, in case you’re the type that values that sort of thing. I’m sure you’ve noticed, he is flesh, mind. But I have his soul. I propose that you forget the boy, take Han, or rather, try to. He has far more mass, and has experienced more than your current target. Though that alone wouldn’t be much of a game. If you can kill him before we get off- What’s this place called again?”

I answered, “Kerry?”

Saoirse leaned over to her, “Ireland, but it’d be Irish soil.”

Ae giggled. “Yes, if you can kill Han before we get off Irish soil, then you can cannibalise my soul, his soul, and if you feel like it, the boy.”

I looked over to the masked man, his eyes sill dark. He had at some point pulled up one of the folding chairs and was sitting uncomfortably on it. This guy would have to be more durable than me, enough to keep him alive until… what, when they get to the ocean? When they get to Britain? They were willing to literally bet on it?

“AAaauuugGhh… Ahhhahag…” If you’re willing to play, under these rules, you may begin… now.”

Han rose from the seat.

The spirit, whatever it is, it didn’t leave, it put a finger around my neck. Ae thought for a second. “Did you do anything to get its attention? Like call it ugly? Say it deserved to die?”

I admitted, “I sang a dick-ass song.”

She laughed a little turning to Saoirse, “What is a dick-ass song?”

Saoirse cringed, “A song he made up about… getting dicked in the ass.”

Ae laughed wildly, “HAHAHAHAHoh oh- wait, so, so I tell you not to mess with ghosts, and you decided to have sex with them instead?”

Saoirse didn’t answer, just pointing accusatorily or perhaps in an attempt to remind Ae of me.

“Ok, ok. Han, tell the ghost you want it to dick you in the ass.”

I think I heard his neck crack as he turned to her. She answered with glee, “Go on, just make something up.”

I’m not going to type whatever he eventually did sing, because I didn’t really hear it over his mask and rage, but the spirit must have caught his intentions because it latched onto him quickly enough.

I felt- well, I didn’t feel different at all, actually. Chul-moo must have felt like shit. Once that miasma left me for him, it wasted no time in crushing him. His fingers curled in pain, incapable of putting his physical strength to use.

As he was screaming, Ae commented curiously, “Hmm, your friend must have been really close to the edge there, he might be suffering from a soul sickness now, I can’t see anything. It’s either a really serious case, or he already lost it.”

Saoirse’s mouth was wide now too, Ae just laughed, “I’m sure it’ll turn out fine. Look at Han and and that green guy, they don’t have souls, and they’re perfectly normal.”

She laughed.

It was a joke.

But I matched Saoirse’s expression now.

Was I greenie? Was Shamrock Greenie?

Was she saying…

Little freaked, but I’m sure it was someone else. Plenty of people wear green, Clover wears green, uh, that Brigs guy wore green trousers. Green arrow, green lantern, tons of people, yeah.

I looked to the man scratching at thin air.

Boiling with rage.

Masked.

“We’ll go soon Chul-moo! But listen Clowie, I’ve told you before, do not mess with ghosts. I can’t clean up all you spirit problems, it’s expensive getting out here. Ha, especially at night.”

It was 2pm, was that supposed to be a joke?

Saoirse apologised, “Sorry, time zones, always confusing… But not as confusing as that kid in the Mladenets, Huh??”

She was smiling playfully, which Ae matched, “He’s in Korea now. None interference agreements. Maybe a little more.” They both cooed, until Han-

“FFFRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!”

Ae got off her cushion and started to run, “Alright, I’ll tell you how it goes. Byyye!”

I’m sure Sam would be mentally destroyed by today’s events, thankfully, he doesn’t entirely exist.

“Saoirs, can we go now?” I played dumb.

She nodded her head, “Yeah, let’s go.” She went over to the door, I followed after her.

Remembering something, she stopped me.

“What is it now?” I asked.

She looked at me, a little concerned, “You have the phone, right??”

I looked down at it in my hand, only now remembering how thick my skull is.

“Oh.”

I lifted it up to show her the cracks, “Well at least… now we know you’re a good pitcher.”

She smiled crookedly, “What does that even mean??”