The Serpent King(14)
Dill thought for a moment. “Seventy-five percent hotness discount.”
“Oh damn. That’s Dollar General pricing.”
“People at this school confuse a tan and perfect teeth with hotness.”
“But not you.”
“Not me.”
Lydia gave him the you-passed-the-test smile again. Her teeth were as chaotic and imperfect as her tights. And like the tights, Dill thought she pulled them off in style. She refused to let her dad fix them, just like with the bumper sticker. She explained to Dill once that it was similar to the way makers of Persian rugs would intentionally leave a flaw in their work, as a reminder that only God is perfect.
They kept up their red-carpet commentary until it was almost time to head inside.
As Dill was about to ask Lydia what she had first period, he heard laughter off to the left. He saw Tyson Reed and his girlfriend, Madison Lucas, approaching. His heart sank. Here we go.
“What up, Dildo? Senior year!” Tyson said with mock excitement, raising his hand for a high five. “Come on, player, don’t leave me hanging!”
Dill went into defensive mode. He shut off and turned away, ignoring Tyson. He prayed in his heart. Bless them that curse you, bless them that curse you, bless them that curse you. And another thought ran parallel: God is punishing me for dishonoring my mother and going to school. He won’t allow me even an hour’s peace.
Lydia laughed a braying, sarcastic laugh. “Wait a minute, hang on…I see what you did there! You said ‘dildo’? Like his name! But you add ‘-do’ to the end! This is fun with these good jokes.” She applauded.
“Glad you appreciate my joke, Lydia Chlamydia,” Tyson said. Madison snickered from behind him.
Lydia’s mouth dropped open. “Wha—Lydia Chl—You did it again! You made an extremely hilarious joke by rhyming my name with a funny sex disease! Tremendous!”
“You’re tremendous,” Tyson said. Another snicker from Madison. This one was louder and more pointed, as though he was finally treading the territory she hoped he would.
Something surged through Dill. Not courage exactly. More the realization that he had nothing to lose by getting kicked out of school. Maybe that was what God wanted for him anyway. He might be able to land a punch on Tyson before Tyson could react. He wouldn’t be expecting Dill to do anything. Even Christ had chased the moneylenders from the temple, and Lydia’s friendship was a temple to him.
Dill rose. He felt Lydia’s hand, warm on his arm. He sat, his head spinning with adrenaline, trying not to visibly shake.
“Yeah, Dildo. Do it. Bring it,” Tyson said.
Lydia crossed her legs, holding her knee and rocking back casually. “Tremendous, huh? Let’s go with that and say I could lose, oh, twenty pounds. I can easily do that by not eating chess pie or bacon or any of the other things that make life worth living. But you”—she pointed at Tyson with an elaborate flourish—“are dumb. And there’s nothing you can simply not eat that will make you any smarter. You’ll die an idiot.”
“You’ll die from too many french fries, fatass Lydia Chlamydia.”
“Do you really want to do this?” She wagged her finger between them. “A battle of wits? It’s not even fun to destroy you because you’re too dim to understand you’re getting destroyed.”
Madison lunged forward, her face resembling a spray-tanned fist. “You’re an ugly person. Inside and out. You think you’re better than everyone here because you’ve been interviewed in the New York Times and you’re famous on the Internet.”
Lydia studied Madison with the look she’d give a clogged toilet. “Since I know that you don’t equate ‘smarter’ with ‘better,’ I’m going to say that that’s not true.”
“This is why no one can stand you,” Madison said.
“Fabulous. I’d hate for it to be because of halitosis or something.”
“Nice witch tights, by the way,” Madison said, her voice dripping with scorn. “They come from the trash?”
“No, they were a gift from the Rodarte sisters. They’re last season, but I hoped no one at Forrestville High would notice.”
“All your fancy friends,” Tyson said. “You gonna go cry about us on your blog now?”
Lydia gave Tyson a condescending smile, furrowing her brow. “Oh. Bless your heart. You think you’re important enough to talk about on my blog. You are still very important, though, you special widdle guy.”
Travis walked up, looking exhausted. “Hey.”
“Tyson, do one of your name jokes for Travis,” Lydia said with a wicked grin. Travis’s fight with Alex may not have raised his social status, but people still feared him. Travis had at least eight inches and almost a hundred pounds on Tyson.
Tyson grabbed Madison’s hand. “Y’all can blow me. We’ve wasted enough time with your queer asses.” They stalked off. Madison flipped Lydia the bird over her shoulder. Lydia, Dill, and Travis flipped them the bird to their backs. Dill’s heart still thumped from the encounter, but he breathed again. Maybe God had a different message for him.
“They’re really not over that interview, are they?” Lydia said.
“You did call Forrestville High a ‘fashion wasteland,’?” Travis said.