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

video games, and watch TV using the tax free money he raped from our government. The American dream if you ask me.” She pulled the drape back from our booth. “Get a move on, you'll learn more about him tomorrow.”
    I walked up to the exit, but just as I was about to leave, Juniper grabbed my wrist where the tattoo was. “You sure you don't want me to cover it up? Change it to something else?”
    I shook my head, and she sighed, with a string of her hair swinging back.
    “Whatever, you'll learn.” She pulled the curtain back and I saw Christine propping her head up with her elbow leaning against a table, watching Al and his sister giggle to each other.
    “Unique couple huh?”
    “What? Oh yeah, them.” Christine sighed and scratched the patch where I assumed her tattoo was.
    “So what did you get?”
     
    “The Tricker logo, a skull and bones crying blood. I couldn't think of anything else better. I've been sitting here for the past few hours wondering just how the Hell I got myself in this hot mess. I try to think positive, but I don't know Tumbleweed.”
     I leaned over the table with her. “Why? What's wrong?”
    She shrugged. “Oh, nothing...except for the incestuous brother and sister, douchebag instructor, psychopath that could kill us at any minute...and of course our society in general. What a terrible concept for... anything. ”
    She turned her head to me. “Tumbleweed, if you make it out of here, and beat all of us...although I highly doubt you will. I can whoop your ass. Let's make no mistake about that. I know I can and I will. Got it?”
     “Yes,” I said, shaking.
    “Good. But on the off chance, on the miracle that you do win...I just want you to promise a better future for our children. For I do believe the children are our future, and they don't deserve the future we have waiting for them.”
     I stared at her blankly. “What?” she said, standing up straight, hands on the counter.
    “Um...why do you call me tumbleweed?”
    She shook her head. “I bet my words were like air just brushing by your hair huh?”
    I frown. “No, I get what you mean, but why do you call me tumbleweed?”
    Christine smirked. “It's something I got from my grandma. She used to call us that and more. She'd call us tumbleweeds whenever we said something stupid, and whenever we did something stupid she'd call us little shits.”
    “Wow.”
     “Yeah. She would have called you a little shit from the get-go. Anyway, all it basically means is you're wandering around with almost no purpose. Like a tumbleweed. Hell, you think about it, we're all tumbleweeds in the end. Just rolling from place to place till we cant roll no more and our number's called up.”
    I slouched. “Sounds depressing.”
     
     “Yeah. Some are able to give their life purpose, meaning. You know, so that when they're on their death bed, they know people out there remember their name. Others...”  
     She paused and stared me in the eye longingly before continuing. “...just reap from the success of those who've already succeeded and are only proud of what they own, not anything they've produced themselves. All those types do is consume.”
    She patted me on the back. “Get what I mean Mika? Consuming is alright, but it's like eating a cake all the time. You eventually get sick. Consuming too much causes you to deteriorate in some ways. But producing, nothing's better than producing and creating something of your own that you can be proud of. Something for you to say...”
    She put her hands up to the lights. “I did it! They remember my name!”
     “Bullshit!” shouted Al, who was suddenly behind us.
    “How did you get there?” said Christine with a shaky voice.
    “I teleported, and I guess you could say, I was enjoying the rear view. Heh.”
    We rolled our eyes. He waved a dismissive hand and said, “Doesn't matter. What I'm concerned about most isn't your snatch but that little speech of yours about a uh...consumption