Uncharmed ones

Chloe's been slightly favoring one paw so we took it slow on our walk tonight. We ambled down to the park and strolled around in the playground for a few minutes. A group of teenagers was clustered in and around a car parked on the street next to the park. Their voices carried across the park. "Oh, quit it!" screeched one girl. "Just stop hexing me!"

I casually led Chloe a little closer, interested in hearing more about the hex. The girls kept up their chatter, bits of it carrying to me across the street. "...I bet she was a total virgin..."

"...Ohmigod, I turned soooo red..."

"...Right, that's when it started, like right after we had sex in the car!..."

Chloe snuffled in the grass at my feet. I decided "hex" was probably one a them newfangled slang words I'm too square to understand, when I heard the girl say it again. "Dude, I told you to stop hexing me!"

I glanced over, curious. "You've already hexed-ed me like eight times already!"

Oh, texted. Well, that's a disappointment then.