That evening, I sat by the bird's-nest girl again in the packed dining room. Though most people offered apologetic smiles or small waves that morphed into awkward hair patting, no one seemed to want to join us, even though every other spot was taken. I was the social pariah, just as I had been at the church. Or maybe it was the girl's ripe smell.
"Sorry," I said before she'd taken another bite of vegetable stew. "What's your name again?" Though there was no again about it, because I'd never asked.
"Jeni." She took a big bite, but most of it slopped off both sides of her spoon.
"Hi, Jeni. What's your favorite smell, like of all time?"
She chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "Spicy. Spicy jalapeno hot. Why?"
Yeah, no. If we were to be table buddies, I didn't want to be choking on her spi
