Hair///Trigger

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it." I'm going to miss both classes today, but at least my friend will note or photograph the important stuff. He's not what I would call an A-Student, but I can fill in the blanks myself.

"No prob. Just stay safe out there. I heard what happened in District 1 last night. I don't know how you can put up with that stuff every day."

"You get used to the streets around here. You get a sense of what's safe vs. what's not."

My friend lives in District 11. Distribution of "borders" isn't exactly even. Coincidentally, District 11 isn't very far. My university is in District 7, which is another reason I really wanted that job last month. It would have been perfect. Convenience is a luxury too many people take for granted.

"By the way Felix, did you hear about the new girl?" My friend asks me a dumb question—which is a hilariously common occurrence.

"Nope. Didn't make it to campus today, remember? I'm just gonna study a bit, then head to work later. Too busy for that business."

"You're just a prude. But no, get this. She's a DEMON. You know the non-rogues? Yeah. I guess the government is trying some 'equality' stuff and we're the guinea pigs."

My eyes widen. Instantly, I recall the girl with the blazing red hair.

"Half the school is rooting for her, the other half is freaking out."

"I can imagine. Hey, I'll talk to you later. I'm almost home."

A demon on campus is bound to freak people out. But people often forget that only Rogue Demons are a problem.

The thing is, most actual Demons try to integrate into society. Rogues are technically the minority, but considering there are relatively few "reborn" to begin with, rogues are all that society sees. Normal demons do their best to hide what they are, supposedly even among close friends, so rogues get all the attention.

Well, none of that involves me. Today is enough of a mess as it is. I better get start—

The thud on the hood of my car signaled the start of an even bigger mess.

I frantically get out to check the scene. I was stopped at a red light. Ahead of me, there's a car in the middle of the road, facing the wrong direction. Beside my car is the girl that it hit. She's not bleeding, and she looks like she's still breathing.

"Hey!" The driver calls out. "Is she alright!?" I mean, he could come over and check. Too many idiots today. Part of me really wants to hit this guy. But first thing's first. I have to make sure this girl's alright.

"Hey. Can you hear me? Can you move your neck? Where does it hurt or feel numb? Does it hurt to breathe?" Wait. This is that girl from earlier.

She's coming to her senses. She doesn't seem seriously injured, thankfully. Still, I better leave the delicate things to the paramedics. "Try not to move. I'm going to call an ambulance, but is there anyone else you want me to call?"

That apparently woke her up. Fast. She grabbed my wrist when I reached for my phone and looked around her. "Uh. No! No ambulance. Please. I'm alright. I just have to get back to work."

What? You were just hit by a car.

In my head, I recall my own words.

Many demons try to hide what they are.

Then, there's this girl's unique, deep red hair.

Mr. Reckless Driver finally came to his senses and made his way over. "Hey, is she okay?" He stops after seeing her physical condition. And her hair.

"Thanks for your concern," she says, thanking the driver that nearly ran her over, "but I'm alright. Really. I'm not hurt at all."

"But that's impossible!" He shouts. You'd think he'd be relieved. Does he want her to be injured or something? "You... You were... What are you?"

His eyes widen in realization. Almost immediately, he ran back to his car and got inside.

"Hey! Wait! Don't you realize how illegal this is!? Aren't you even worried about her!?" I shout at him, but it's too late. He's already driving off. "Damn it. Hey." I check on our oddly calm and considerate hit and run victim.

"It's okay. I appreciate the concern, but I'm really okay." Her eyes seem to say 'I'm used to it.'

"I wasn't paying attention. It's technically my fault."

She's crazy.

"Except it isn't. Here."

"Huh? What's this? Your number?"

Did she hit her head too hard on my car? Or is she playing dumb? She can't be serious. But damn—everything from the curves of her waist to her lips make me wish that was my number. The fullness of her c.h.e.s.t is making eye contact difficult, too. Not to mention her unbelievably entrancing irises.

"No. That's his license plate number. If you ask me, this is now beyond a simple hit and run. Bring it up with the police and your insurance. He can't run from this."

"Oh! Thank you. I'll hold on to this for when I need it. I do have to go now, though. Thank you, again!" She says, plainly. This must be a common formality for her. Judging from her tone, she has no intentions of taking legal action or filing a police report.

As she turns around to walk away, I call out. "Look. I get you may not want to file a case for privacy reasons. I can't possibly understand what decisions you have to make in situations like this. But as far as I'm concerned, you were just hit by a car. Physically superior or not, I doubt it tickled."

She stopped and turned to face me. Slowly. This is how messed up our world is. She was perfectly fine with being nearly ran over, but she's cautious of me knowing what she is. Her fault for being so obvious, though.

"I can't really stop you from going back to work, or whatever it is you were really going to do. If you're going to just deal with it, do you want a ride so you don't have to walk all the way there in pain?"

"You knew?"

"I took a guess. Not many can get hit at the speed you were and just. Well. Stand up and walk away like you were just about to. Your hair is a real giveaway, too."

"I guess I should dye it, then. It just scares people." She says, in a considerably less pleasant tone than her facade earlier.

Way to go. Tell the inhumanly gorgeous demon girl how obviously demon she is. Good to know I'm just as bad as I am with humans.

"No, no. I didn't mean it like that at all! It's beautiful." Her reaction to the word beautiful wasn't exactly what I'd call pleasant, either. I went from nice guy offering help, to "nice guy" trying to get close. I should just get to the point.

"Hey." I say, abandoning hope of redeeming my idiocy, "You can be honest with me. If I'm giving the wrong impression, tell me. I don't know how much pain demons can take. If you're genuinely not hurt, then good." After several seconds of dead air, I give her an out. "Then I can be on my way."

"You're not making this weird. You're just being typical. 'Reborn' are different. Everyone knows this. But we don't like being treated differently. We don't want to be treated like animals, and we don't need to be treated like children, either. If I say I'm fine, then I'm fine."

I wasn't expecting her to chastise me. I already admitted I couldn't possibly understand her situation, but she didn't have to go making me feel like crap for it. Nonetheless, I'm not exactly innocent for thinking about hitting on her, either. Maybe I should have just let her walk away. This isn't going anywhere, so I should just go.

"Okay. I'm not sure how to answer that. I've never really spoken to a—" Her eyes narrowed halfway through my sentence. She's waiting for the "D" word again. "Uh, a different kind of person like this. If it's worth anything, I didn't mean to impose. I'm going now."

I get in my car and drive off, no different from the asshole from earlier.