When I first met Jimmy, he told me what to do without talking. I just didn't get it.

I had been sitting next to some girl who had to be at least four years younger than me, and she was interested, which Jimmy pointed out later. Because, Jimmy says, she sure as hell didn't give a shit that Tunny wasn't there. She wasn't listening to me worry, he says, she was waiting for you to look down her shirt so she could laugh and ask if I liked what I saw.

I'm oblivious, he says, so I didn't look at her, and instead, I looked around the room. And that's how I met Jimmy, who was already looking at me.

He raised an eyebrow at me before nodding at the girl. But I didn't get it, and so when she gave up and walked away while I was still talking, Jimmy came to sit down where she had been.

It's intimidating when he looks at you, because it's impossible to understand just how much he's thinking at once. It's not that he's hard to read, really. It's that he's looking at you and thinking that you're pathetic and stupid, but he's strangely enamored and impressed.

When I looked away, he snickered and I tried not to tense when he grabbed my shoulder.

"I've got an idea," he said, "No. Better yet, I've got a solution."

I looked down and saw him holding out a white pill with the Cheshire Cat stamped onto it. And when I asked him what exactly this was the solution to, he didn't respond, just stared blankly until I shrugged and took it from him.

He smiled, and I knew it looked malicious, but it made me smile too.

And when I see him the next night, he looks at me and doesn't say anything, but I still answer his question.

"Yeah, I get it."