by Adalynn Rafe
“He’s lying! He’s playing on your fears!” Hazel says desperately. “Believe me! Sheriff Copper was your father’s best friend, your Godfather! Why wouldn’t he run to your aid?”
“Because. Leison has already brainwashed him! I saw it happen!”
Hazel’s face turns to stone and she looks down. “This guy is not your average rapist . . .”
“What does that mean?”
“He’s too smart, Cecily. We have to report him!”
I glare at her. “Okay, AP psych student, you tell me who we can talk to without Leison knowing, and then coming after me to slit my throat and kill my sister!”
She looks away from me and pokes at the dirt beneath us.
“I’m sorry.” Guilt fills me for being mean to her. “Hazel, I already look crazy, why would anyone believe me?” I sigh loudly as I close my eyes. “How did this happen to me?”
Hazel holds my free hand in hers and I can tell that she is cold because she is shivering slightly. I open my eyes and stare at her. “You are the only one strong enough to conquer this. Cecily Wolf, you are the bravest person I know. Together, we’ll stop him!” she promises.
She is right. If I’m not brave, then I would have showed up at that party and gotten wasted. And gone through initiation? I shudder at the thought of what that could be as tears fill my eyes. “I’m so happy we aren’t going to the party.” I stand up. “Something bad was going to happen there.” I brush the dirt off of my butt and legs.
Relief fills Hazel’s face as she does the same. “I am so happy to see you regaining your feet again,” she says to me. “You were really dark there for a little bit, and I thought I lost you.”
“You know,” I explain, “the weirdest thing happened. I guess I am getting ready and then I see something that looks like me, then I pass out for like however long, and I wake up and feel like I have been given a second chance. It’s like . . . I’ve been given a chance to avoid some epic disaster.”
“Stalkward,” Hazel says quickly. “You know, maybe you were sent here to stop the epic disaster . . .” Hazel nods her head seriously.
My face fills with confusion and my stomach pangs with dread. “You don’t mean?”
Hazel nods. “Think about it. You’re the only one gutsy enough to no-show to the royal party. You know there will be consequences to pay––”
“Spit it out already, Hazel!”
“Okay, maybe you’re here to stop Mr. Stalkward from his evil doings.”
I look away from her and think. Impossible! I’m just one girl, abused and molested––and terrified––by this vile creature. I can’t do it by myself!
Hazel grabs my hand. “Ces, I was reading this article about energy and ripples in time and space. Apparently, when you distort an energy pattern, that distortion leaks into all other energies around it, creating this ripple effect,” Hazel comments. “Like taking a dam from a reservoir.”
“Are you calling me a dam?” I ask. “First a bossy skank, and now a dam?”
“I said bossy slut,” she corrects.
I start laughing. “Whatever.” My smile vanishes. “What does this have to do with anything?”
Hazel sighs. “Just saying, Ces. Maybe you were meant to stop this evilness, be the hero. Stop his ripple effect from ripping apart the lives of the girls he attacks. You’re their hero, Ces, sent to free them from him.”
“Stop the epic disaster,” I whisper to myself. Maybe I am supposed to stop Leison from raping girls. Ew! I cringe and push the thought of his mouth biting my neck from my mind. I try to focus on happy things––like stars, butterflies, the vast fields of yellow corn stalks and darkness that surround me, and hitch hikers who are kidnapped, or murderers walking the roads in solitude––and suddenly I don’t think I want to be standing on the side of the road anymore. I seriously need to reconsider my happy thoughts.
“Get in the car,” I demand with urgency. Hazel doesn’t ask.
Once in the car and driving down the road again I ask, “Since when are you so full of philosophy and wisdom?” A smile lifts on my lips.
“Blame my cousin. She’s a palm reader and claims she’s all clairvoyant and junk. I’ve been her practice dummy, her student.”
“Since when?” I don’t remember any of this.
“Since, like, a week ago. She came over randomly and started doing weird stuff and making me read new age articles.”
“Is it cool?” I ask with intrigue.
Hazel nods. “Yeah, it is actually.”
“Will she read my palm?” Not that I’m into that kind of thing, I just wonder.
“Dur––of course.” Hazel smiles. “As if you would do it, though.”
I nod. “You’re right. I’ll leave the hippie crap to you.”
We sing together as we dance in the car. Our hands bounce up and down as Hazel flashes peace signs to the people that we drive past. My left arm makes its way out the window and starts moving up and down to the beat. With the bass high and the windows down, we are feeling pretty freaking awesome!
We only lasted through one song because our limbs were beginning to freeze in the chilly air. Our arms return to the inside of the car and we roll up the window.
“I can’t believe we are graduating this year! I swear that high school has taken forever to end,” Hazel says.
“Soon, Haze, I am going to be up in New York going to the Art Institute. Do you know how epic that will be?” I smile.
“And who will be your best friend that sleeps on the couch?”
“Uh, you!”
“Don’t forget it either!”
We are silent as we listen to the music and then Hazel touches my arm. “Are you okay, Ces?”
I glance at her and halfway nod. “Better than I was. I’m sorry, Hazel.”
“For what?” she wonders.
“For being a horrible friend.”
Hazel laughs. “Don’t fret. I only require your first born in repayment for all the stress you’ve put me through. Not a big deal.”
“I recall saving your butt from a whooping from Sabrina in seventh grade,” I point out. “I get to keep my first born.”
She shrugs like it’s nothing big. “Fine. Your kids will probably be brats like you anyway. You’re really just saving me from going insane.”
I start to laugh and she squeezes my knee, which makes me laugh even harder and I forget that I’m driving for a moment.
I clear my throat. “And I’m sorry for my minor psychosis back there. I just felt like everything was broken in me for about five minutes.” I give her teary smile. “And if you weren’t there, I couldn’t have done it alone.”
“That wasn’t a minor psychosis moment, it was a major one. And maybe I should take away your first born . . .” She is totally teasing about the first born. “Ces, it was legit, at least. And that’s why you have me.” Hazel leans over and hugs me. “What are best friends for?”
I wipe the tears from my eyes and smile at her. “You are the best, Hazel.”
We pull into the parking lot of the ancient grocery store. Its face is composed of white bricks and the windows are painted with the special savings for the week. Apparently their raw chicken breast is on sale. Not that I care. I’m seventeen.
“What are we doing? I thought we were in a rush because you were worried about missing Dracula?” says Hazel.
“A little late for that!” I laugh loudly, thinking about the ten minutes we spent on the side of the road. “Besides, we need snacks. Hello?”
Hazel smacks her palm to her forehead. “Duh. Let me guess, Red Vines?”
I nod my head. “You really are my best friend, aren’t’ you?”
Hazel smiles. “Obviously. I’ve put up with enough of your crap to prove it.”
Chapter 27
Reasons why shopping carts were created:
1) People have from one to a couple thousand kids creeping around the store, so they throw them in the carts to keep track of them.
&n
bsp; 2) Shopping carts are used to put mass amounts of food in—novel thought, right?
3) They are perfect for smashing and denting up your mortal enemy’s car.
4) Hobos usually push them around, filled with their homeless treasures.
5) Sometimes, people have a hard time walking and need the support.
6) Ploy to destroy the lives of teenagers.
When something gets broken, who is always blamed first? “Those stupid teenagers!” And when something bad happens involving a shopping cart, it usually involves a teenager as well. Then shopping carts become epic escape cars and the only ticket to getting out of jail (or whatever.)
Hazel I stare at the row of green shopping carts for at least five minutes, contemplating whether or not to dare it. We are unsure if the “Supreme Dictator of All Food and Goods” is the manager tonight or not. He’s this old guy that has a creepy mustache and can find a teenager in his store within milliseconds. It is as if he has the nose of a Bassett Hound and the body of a Hippopotamus. And trust Animal Planet when they say that hippos are mean; I have encountered one and his name is Mr. Cery, manager of food and such.
My eyebrow rises and I look warily at Hazel. “I say hand-basket.”
She nods, sending her long billowy hair of golden silk into her face, covering half of it. “I don’t want to risk it.” One green eye flashes me a scared look.
I grab a basket and head for the candy section as music plays that sounds like it’s straight out of a retirement center. She pushes her hair out of her face and I sigh.
“Wait, wait!” Hazel says, stopping me. “I want a soda.”
“Okay,” I say awkwardly. “It’s not the end of the world. If you act any more like a teen, Mr. Hippo will be over here to eat us.”
Hazel laughs. “As if. We don’t have a cart, so we are totally golden.”
My eyebrow rises as I give her a look to contradict her comment. No teenager is golden in this store with Mr. Cery around. All teenagers are rust covered spokes on a flat tire, left out for one too many rainstorms and peed on by stray dogs.
“Oh, shush,” Hazels says with the swipe of her hand. “Come on, I’m thinking orange.”
Laughing, I follow her to the soda section. Upon turning down the aisle, Hazel mindlessly bumps into Darien from school, one of those kids that you kinda don’t want to be seen with. For some reason I feel guilty when I see him, but I ignore it.
Regardless of his dirty blond hair and his Marvin the Martian t-shirt, Hazel’s eyes fill with happiness when she sees him. Darien forgets about what he is doing and drops his twelve pack of Mountain Dew on the ground. Well, one of the cans mysteriously explodes and soda begins to leak everywhere out of the box.
“Darien!” I complain, my voice full of annoyance.
Hazel glares. “It’s not his fault, it just slipped.” She then grants me a look to shut up.
I back off a few steps and watch them in silence. Hazel is blushing and tucks her golden hair behind her ear. Darien is nervously laughing as he keeps wiping his sweaty hand against his pant legs. Hazel giggles at something that Darien says and he laughs as well. Could this be? Is it really?
“I’m glad you got my text,” Hazel says quietly.
Darien laughs. “You’re glad? I’m glad! That party was bad news.”
Hazel was that terrified of going and couldn’t even tell me? Bossy skank is an understatement . . . isn’t it? I step away, like I’m diseased and don’t want to ruin what they have.
Darien’s glance is full of criticism as he observes me. “What’s wrong with you?” I just stare at him, though it’s hard. “You’re not yelling at me for talking to Hazel. The other day you told me to do all sorts of things and called me horrible names for standing up for her.” Darien’s honey-brown eyes narrow. “When she stood up to you, you yelled at her.”
A sting hits me in the old ticker and I look down to avoid his death ray gaze. I must have been a monstrosity before I had my moment of redemption. I guess that’s why I feel guilty when I look at him. Insecurely, I cover my wounded neck with my hand and turn around to look at bottled juice. As if anyone can see the fading mark from Leison!
“Teenagers!” Mr. Hippo yells. His face is red and his beady eyes look to pop out of his head. “What is this?”
Darien and Hazel freeze and try to find their words. I turn to look at the large man.
“Sorry, Mr. Cery. The box slipped, a can ruptured, and soda spilled everywhere. We’ll pay for it.” I sound––like an adult. It shocks me.
Hippo shakes his head. “Kelly!” he yells. “Clean-up!”
Kelly? A flash of recognition hits me when I hear that name.
“Where, Mr. Cery?” a young man asks. With him is a mop and bucket.
Our eyes meet and my stomach fills with butterflies. His blue eyes dazzle when he sees me (or so I want to believe) and his lips curl into a curious smile. Perfectly spiked brown hair sits on top of his head. The best part is that he’s young, like me, but he looks like a man. A small gasp escapes me and I just want to touch him, to ensure that he’s real. It’s clear that he feels the same, because he bites the very edge of his lip as he stares at me.
“Get outta here!” Mr. Cery yells, ripping my connection with Kelly to shreds. “Now! Before you stinking teenagers break something else!”
Darien, Hazel, and I run down the aisle. On the way, Darien grabs another twelve-pack and I glance back at Kelly briefly. A smile fills my face when I look at him.
Once we reach the chip aisle, the questions begin. “Okay . . . what was that?” Hazel asks. “Do you know him?”
Blushing seems inevitable. “I don’t know him. I’ve never met him.” I place a hand over my racing heart as I try to decipher this new feeling of hope and light. It feels so good after feeling so much terror and pain.
Darien smiles. “Cecily, perhaps this is love at first glance?” he teases, but is serious. “Perhaps you do have a soul.”
My face goes bright red as I become speechless. Hazel laughs loudly at me as Darien’s grin widens. “Hey, what about you two?!” I ask loudly, changing the topic. “What is this crap?”
Hazel is the one blushing now. “We––we––,” she begins to stutter. She looks at Darien for help. Darien holds her hand. “If you can’t tell your best friend, then who can you tell?” he asks Hazel. “Cecily is the one person that should know.”
“Oh, my––” My mouth drops. “You two?”
Hazel seems almost embarrassed. “Yeah.”
“Wait, when did this happen?” I smile and tilt my head at their cuteness. “This is cute actually. Have you kissed yet?”
“AP Psychology,” Darien says, looking at Hazel with a large grin.
“No, we haven’t kissed.” She looks at Darien shyly. “Really, you think it’s cute?” Hazel brightens up. “I really like this new Cecily.”
“This is the old Cecily, just rebooted.” I still have the horrible bruises on my body and hollowed eyes of the old Cecily. A new one would entail an upgrade of everything, including the removal of the scarred and bruised psyche. “And for sure, this is adorable,” I say, focusing my attention back to them, smiling.
Darien grabs Hazel and twirls her around, almost knocking down a rack of random spices.
“Shh––shh––shh!” I urge. “You’re gonna make the Hippo super pissed!”
“Let’s get the stuff and get out!” Darien says quietly, as to avoid the ears of the Hippo.
After gathering the rest of our food items, which includes chips, licorice (Red Vines and Twizzlers), chocolate (duh), popcorn, ice cream, and sodas, we head to the registers to check out. Of course, we have to wait like ten minutes before anyone shows up.
“You wanna come over and watch monster movies?” I ask Darien, as if we were old friends again.
Hazel’s green eyes light up with hope and excitement.
“Yeah,” Darien replies. “Dracula by chance?”
I laugh. “How did you know?”
“We can play some Xbox when it’s over. I just got this new alien game,” Darien suggests with excitement.
“For sure! I love gaming!” I say louder than anticipated.
“Did you find everything alright?” Kelly asks as he logs into his register.
My mouth gapes open as I stare at him. I swore I’d seen him in my dreams somewhere. His eyebrow rises in amusement and he smiles at me, just a little one, but it shows in the creases around his wise eyes.
“Yeah, of course,” Darien says. “Sorry about the spill, man.”
Hazel elbows me in the side. She smiles at me before shooting looks from Kelly to me. I glare at her to stop. Then I blush because I was caught in my admiring.
“That will be thirty-five even,” Kelly says. He looks through those piercing blue eyes at me. He smiles before looking down, his cheeks going red. “Cash or card?”
“I mustache you a question,” Darien says to Kelly, as he looks back to the hovering hippo that stands in the corner of the store, stalking us. “Is Cery’s mustache real?”
Kelly laughs, a beautiful thing, and I’m giggling like an idiot—bright red, surely.
“Do you have a legit question?” Kelly wonders.
Darien nods. “Do you sell TVs?”
Hazel elbows Darien while she laughs. “You’re such a weirdo!”
Feeling rather stupid at laughing so hard at a joke that was lame, I pull out a card and swipe it in the scanner. I follow the directions that the machine gives me, trying to ignore the piercing blue eyes that examine every inch of my face. Can he see that I am damaged goods?
The receipt prints up loudly while Darien and Hazel take the bags in their hands, still laughing at how strange Darien can be.
Kelly hands the receipt out to me. I go to take it, but he holds it in his hand for a second before letting go. “Thanks for coming in.” He genuinely smiles again as he stares into my eyes. I swear he is reading my soul, because his head tilts and he seems sympathetic. “Don’t let life beat you up too bad.”
