Free Divergent Parody: Avirgent by Maurice Hill, Michelle Hunt Page A

either.”
    Al nodded at TB4, and walked out along with Lisa. There was six of us now. Me, Limp, Lisa, Christine, Hailey and Al. It was as if everyone was dropping like flies and hopefully Limp would go down as well.
     I was never a huge believer in God, but when I saw Christine putting her hands in prayer, making the holy trinity, I imagined myself doing the same.
     Steven's eye and bashed in nose twitched, and so did his legs, as if he were some dead bug laying on the floor. I hoped to God I wouldn't end up like that.
     But of course, all it took were staring into TB4's deep blue eyes to swell my emotions back into a happy place. He was so mysterious and so calm. I needed to know more about him.
      
     
     
      
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
      CHAPTER 5: PLEDGE
     
     The district looked like Hell to me. There were hundreds of dirty working class people with sullen faces pushing shopping carts and trying to keep their kids from stealing things from the lit up stores. I saw prostitutes constantly walking up to Limp, Al and my future husband TB4. Damn those whores. TB4 actually took their number. I felt sad, and
    Christine let out a “Mhm. See?”
    I looked up at Al and he shrugged. “Told you. Guy's a dog.”
    I shook my head. “I don't care. I can change him. Watch, you'll see.”
     Al shrugged again and whispered, “Yeah, you probably can. Then again, that's what OJ Simpson's wife said before she got her brain's bashed in like a melon. That guy is as much, if not a worse psycho than Limp. Do yourself a favor and go out with me. At least you won't be walking on eggshells then. You'll be walking on scarlet carpets.”
     I grimaced. “Scarlet carpets? Stained with your mob money? No thanks, I don't want to face the FBI.”
    Al frowned. “Hey, it's my friend Joey Two-Tone that's in the game. Not me. Just because I'm Italian doesn't mean I'm in the mob. I find that racist.”
    I scoffed. “Please, whatever.” I walked to the front of the line and tapped TB4's shoulder.
    “Hi!” I said excitedly, putting my hand on my mouth, barely able to contain my excitement. TB4 looked up and down, and threw his head back chuckling. I heard Al  a few steps away trying to flirt with Lisa.
     TB4 said, “Hi!” mocking my small voice.
    “Hey! You don't need to do that.”
    He nudged my shoulder. “I should. You're always making such a fool of yourself. Seriously, what compelled you to dress so tacky?”
    “This isn't tacky it's-”
     
    “It's tacky. Let me tell you what, the girl I know at the tattoo shop is good at the latest Tricker biker wear. Her and the other Asians know their stuff.”
    He smiled. “They know everything. Math, English, chopsticks...” He imitated holding a pair of chopsticks and using them to pick up some food. “No, no, no. I kid, I kid.”
    He made me chuckle with that joke.
     “I love them, I do. They're good people, and you'll see. The best Trickers around if you ask me.”
    I gulped. “Is one of the Asians a girl who speaks as if she's bored all the time and smokes even though she coughs too much?”
    “Yup. She's real cool. I wish I could have screwed her once though, but she's too uptight. She'd rather suck on that cancer-stick than suck on my...well, you get it, right?”
    I nodded lightly. “Yeah, I get it.” I imagined what his you know what looked like. I wondered if it was as veiny and vascular as his arms. I got hot just thinking about it.
    “So...” I said, thinking of something just as we passed a 'McGreasys' restaurant.
    “What do you like to do TB4? Dance around your room with your theme music?”
    He notched a brow. “Yeah.”
    “Really? I was just joking.”
    “No, I really do. It's a wonderful experience, that doesn't come cheap by the way. I pay a band at least $1,000 to perform that live every time. And every time they never disappoint. Next time, they'll be in person, but for now, loud speakers it is. It costs