Page 17 of Signed, I'm Yours!
“Why?” I ask.
“Because you were gonna call security.”
“I’m supposed to call security.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Jay Walking, you look like a decent enough guy, except for, you know, the whole infiltrating this place and all. But I still need to alert people so they can seize you, make you pay for your crimes, if any, and all that fun stuff, okay?”
A look of disgust scrunches up his face.
“What?” I ask.
“Why are you saying all that with a smile?”
“Because I’m trying to be a nice guy.”
His face tightens again, and he crosses his arms. “If you were a nice guy, you wouldn’t report me.”
“Ah, so you admit you’re not supposed to be here.”
“I said nothing of the sort.”
“Look, it was fun talking to you, but…” I start to walk out, closing the door behind me. I have every intention of locking him in here so I can get Mortie and Karen myself.
“No! Wait!” he shouts and grabs my arm before I can do so.
“What?” I ask.
He stares at me for a second. Then another. I pull my hand. He growls and takes something from under his coat. A black Sharpie. He bites the cap off and puts the tip on my forearm.
And surprise, surprise, he draws his signature again.
“You can’t go anywhere. You’re mine,” he says.
I open my mouth to question him when I feel a warmth where he’s touching me. From there, it spreads to the rest of my body, leaving me slightly lightheaded.
Jay Walking lets me go.
“There. You’ve been signed. By the Sinister Seomyeong.”
I grimace and pull my hand to my chest.
“I’ve been signed by the what somyong?”
Jay Walking winces. “The Sinister Seomyeong. Wait, it’s the Sinister part that tripped you up? Not Seomyeong?”
“No, that part did too, but…it’s just…you don’t look sinister, is all.” I shrug.
Jay Walking gasps.
“Excuse you! I am the most sinister. I’m a supervillain!”
I jerk back and scan him from top to bottom.
“You don’t look like a supervillain. You barely look like a villain.”
“Why? Because femme boys can’t be supervillains? Are you a homophobe on top of being a CREEP?”
“Whoa! No, I’m not.” I put my hands up. “Some of my best friends are queer.”
He scoffs. “That’s what homophobes say.”
