Six Like the Number
Just as I’m about to take a bite from my sandwich, a girl with blue hair wearing a leather jacket plops herself down beside me, straddling the bench so she’s facing me.
“So you must be the new girl.”
“Uh, yeah I guess so.”
“I’m Cleo,” she says, sticking her hand out.
“Six,” I say and take it.
“So, rumour is you went to WestSide.”
Before I can answer, a girl with platinum blonde hair and several layers of makeup walks up to the table with another blonde and a brunette, both with just as much makeup on and says, “Hi, you must be new here.” I don’t reply. “Well, I’ll let it slide for today, but you’re in our spot.”