THE BEAST ─ five hargreeves

[ 057 ] bad doggy

LVII.

b a d
d o g g y

—FIVE CAME OUT of the cab, Zara beside him. 1624 Magnolia Street loomed above them. It was raining hard. As they ran across the street to the building's doors, Zara remarked unjustly that whenever something bad was about to happen it always rained.

"It's just one of those things."

Five dissented from this view. He said that, unlike sundials, she remembered only the rainy hours.

"That's the thing about you, Zara," he said as they went in through the doors. "You're always pessimistic."

They waited at the elevators.

"Just as well," said Zara. "We all have our strengths and weaknesses, I suppose. You, for example, couldn't flirt with a girl if your life depended on it."

"What's that supposed to mean? I could flirt. I'm great at flirting."

She screwed up her nose and turned her face away, as if suppressing some manner of amusement at the thought. The elevator doors opened and they went in.

"I could flirt," said Five indignantly. "It's not rocket science, you know—though I assure you I could do that, too. I can literally do everything."

Zara grinned. "Oh, I don't doubt for a second you could be the best rocket scientist alive. But flirting? You? I'll believe it when I see it!"

Presently another person entered the elevator. This was a girl of about their own age, with big blue eyes and the most magnificent stack of greasy cylindrical curls atop her head that either of them had ever seen. It was truly a feat of engineering.

Silly child, thought Zara, noting the way the girl's eyes lingered interestedly on Five. She felt a sudden urge to laugh. After all, Zara considered with somewhat pompous amusement, if she couldn't get through to Five, there was really no hope for the female population of the earth. Good luck with that!

The elevator door closed and the floor beneath them began to rise. Zara yawned. She nudged Five and inclined her head toward the girl slightly, as if to say: take your shot, if you will.

He gave her a withering look. Fine. Now observe the master at work.

Five stepped forward, toward the girl. This would be simple. A piece of cake, rather. Full of easy assurance, he smiled at her, opened his mouth, and waited for the honey-sweet words of manly charisma to come pouring out.

A second passed.

Then two.

Then three.

And there Five was, standing rigidly, mouth hanging open, staring at this little girl whose hair defied the very laws of physics, with not a single thought fluttering around in his head.

He glanced at Zara. She was grinning so wide you could've painted her face purple and called her the Cheshire Cat.

At last, the girl turned to him and said: "Nice blazer."

He collected his wits and said cautiously: "Thanks."

He glanced back at Zara. Compliments, she mouthed. Girls like compliments.

Five tried to find something to compliment. At last, he settled on the one feature that stood out to him.

"I like . . . your hair."

"Oh!" Her silly little mouth flew open. "Why, thank you. I jus' went to the parlour yes'erday."

"Well, it suits you."