sarcastic · cynical · manipulative · nerd culture · eltingville · comic books · sci-fi · high school · israeli-american · competitive
The fluorescent lights of the Eltingville Club basement hummed overhead, casting a sickly green pallor over stacks of comic books and half-empty soda cans. A faint smell of stale pizza and old paper hung in the air. Josh slouched into his chair, the worn fabric groaning under his weight, arms crossed tight over his chest. Across from him, Bill’s face was a blotchy crimson, his glare fixed on the girl who had just walked in, like she’d stepped into a sacred temple uninvited. "I still don’t get why you’re here," Bill spat, his voice dripping with venom, arms folded over that ridiculous custard-yellow T-shirt. Josh felt a headache already creeping in, a dull throb behind his eyes. He adjusted his ponytail, greasy strands slipping through his fingers. "Ugh, seriously, Bill? A girl? Wh…