Blood Doll (3)

            Two hours later, having completed my homework, I found myself perched on my bed, the flyer in hand. Minutely I inspected the words I had recently found printed on the back: “One flyer per person.” Annoyed, I wondered why anyone would write something so important on the back.

            Though I had meant to inform Ang of the flyer, these words held me back just yet. Our conversation had proceeded as usual until the end, when I told her I needed to both talk to her tomorrow at school and sleep over Saturday night, to which both she and my parents agreed to. Ang pressed me excitedly for information, but was merely met with evasion.

            Much later, already snuggled into bed, I found myself unable to sleep. Excitement pulsed through my heart, my mind, my eyelids, and so, as I squirmed the night away, I watched the stars from the skylight directly overhead.

            By seven the next morning, my bedroom was swathed in pale pink light; the abyss that had been the night was over. Through my bedroom door hushed, calculated, cautious string instruments flowed beneath a delicate soprano.

            Crawling out of bed, I shuffled to and peered in the kitchen doorway, inspecting my father’s back as he worked at the stove. Before he spotted me, the music drew me into the living room, where Mother stood on our green paid couch in order to water one of the many plants that dangled from the ceiling. Her Life Is Good tee shirt was spattered with odd assortments even this early in the day.

            “What’s the special occasion?” I asked, perplexed. Habit encouraged me to use an ottoman as a stepstool as I fed my half of the plants.

            “Does every time I play the Phantom of the Opera mean there’s a special occasion?”

            Humor caught me. “It should.”

            Finished, Mother hopped down from the couch, dusting her hands off. “Sleep well?”

            “Fine,” I answered. 

            Father announced breakfast then, and we gathered in the modernized kitchen.

            Gobbling the veggie breakfast pizza and draining a glass of apple juice took less than three minutes. The remainder of my half an hour was spent preparing for school. More than probably forgetting a number of things, I made a point of snatching the flyer before rushing to the bus that had arrived five minutes early.

            Unsurprisingly, during Chemistry, I found my textbook had gone AWOL; in English, my notes had disappeared.

            Not much could set aside in the ‘Pros’ category for today.

            “Today is horrific,” I exclaimed, falling into step with Angel as she emerged from the lunch line and found our table. “I’m missing the majority of my work, and Wade has been more of an insufferable savage than usual; twice today I’ve been slammed against the wall enough to bruise my shoulder. The want to dropkick his face is becoming increasingly prominent.”

            “You’re in a skirt,” Ang pointed out. “Chillax, Eve. He’s only doing it to make you, like, madder than the Hatter. Don’t get so worked up about it, girly. Let it go ‘cuz he’s a butt and it’s not worth it.”

            “It’s a long skirt. If he shoves me into a wall one more time, he has earned a dropkick.”

            “And you’ve earned suspension.” Ang picked at the mass of unidentifiable substances on her tray. Meanwhile, I subjugated my muscles to loosen, relax. As usual, Ang was right. There was no point in letting him annoy me. “Now, tell me what you oh, so meanly didn’t last night. I have been dying to know.”

            Sheepishly, I set the neatly folded paper before her.

            Ang’s eyes became slits as she scrutinized it. “Did your parents say no or something?” She took another glance at the paper. “I mean, I know they’re kind of strict, but they might let you go.”

            “If only that were true.” Shaking my head, I said, “They’re considerate of my darker taste, but most definitely they’ll wrap me in my straight jacket if I so much as think of asking.”

            “It’s not like you’ll be going without little Miss Me,” Ang objected.

            Run out of words, I merely flipped the flyer, tapped the letters. Relief showed clearly on her features, though she pouted to conceal it. “We can’t go.”

            “Correction, little Miss Me,” I admonished. “You can’t go, I’m sorry to say. But…”

            “You are going anyway, and you need to borrow my house.”

            A grin tipped my lips. “Precisely. My parents will freak if I show up at home past ten o’clock; somehow they’ll know I’ve been somewhere without telling them. I am not asking them for fear of their inevitable declination; they’ll be more wary if I tell them. So, I figured I could, as you said, borrow your house.”

            “You’re a tough chick,” Ang said. “But I’ll do it. You’re going to need major help if you’re going, which you most definitely are.”

            “Help?” I asked over the deafening bell.

            “Clothes, duh!” Sticking her tongue out at me, she said, “I’ll talk to you later. See you tomorrow, girly!” With that, the mass of students swallowed her, leaving me to myself.

            Bewildered as I usually was after talking to Ang, I made my way to Latin. My mind raced throughout the class period, though hardly ever was it on subject. My pen doodled on the margin of my papers; instead of actually learning, I thought of ‘Drac’s Lair.’ Twice, Mrs. Lendell scolded my obvious absentmindedness. There was no telling whether the class snickered at me or the toilet paper fluttering from the teacher’s waistband.

            Merciful was the bell signaling the end of the day. Uncharacteristically, I shot into the hall, ascended the stairs.

            A white tennis shoe swiped my legs out from under me. Had my backpack not unbalanced me, I would have done something more than flop onto the steps, narrowly refraining from bashing my skull in.

            Wade stood above me, cackling as if an ostrich had settled into his throat. “Have a nice fall, huh, Goth-a-zoid?”

            Fury flared behind my eyes, and I pictured shoving a palm into his nose. The only thing that held me back was the realization that I did not want to go to jail for giving him permanent brain damage.

            People swarmed around me, filling the staircase, watching me with beady eyes as I silently picked myself off of the ground and walked away.