“Oh, man,” she muttered under her breath.
Yeah, you look about as good as one of my dead squirrels, and they’ve usually been pancaked by car tires, Sherlock said as he shook his body, splattering drool all over the open door.
“Thanks, Sherlock. You’re truly the best.”
I know.
“Still haven’t gotten a grasp on sarcasm, have you?”
He ignored her and padded down the steps. Gramps still wasn’t back when she reached the landing. General Hospital or some other soap opera on the Soap Network would’ve lit up the living room, but it was as dark as the Dark Forest in there.
Maria sighed and opened the back door. Sherlock bolted out much faster than normal.
“Really had to go, huh?”
She got her answer soon enough when he barely made it past the stairs before he squatted. She covered her eyes.
Thanks for the privacy!
“Yuck, what did you eat?”
I wish I could say Gnome. Oh, get over it. We all do this…some of us differently than others. I know you have a stack of books you keep in the toilet room under the sink—don’t ever donate those!
Maria’s cheeks flared red. God, letting a dog embarrass me. Truly, truly, what has my life come to?
In the stark darkness of the kitchen, the green numbers on the stove’s digital clock stood out like a bad omen. The time was now 6:13. Time was ticking, and Joe would be there sooner than she realized. Calling Sherlock inside would be no use, Maria knew.
“Time to call in the big guns,” she murmured under her breath.
On top of the fridge, a red box with a cute Beagle on the front sat next to the cereal boxes. The Milkbones.
She plucked it out of its spot between the Fruity Pebbles and Raisin Bran and turned for the door. Outside, she shook the box half of one time before Sherlock heard and took off toward the door, his tongue out, wagging and sending spit going in all directions.
“Like taking candy from a Bloodhound,” Maria said, a smile on her face…until she realized Sherlock was coming in much too hot. “Oh, shit—”
The breath exploded out of her as he knocked her over like a professional football player. The Milkbone box spun up in the air, hit the siding of the house, and exploded into a makeshift, dog treat piñata.
Christmas came early this year!
By the time Maria got up, it was too late. Sherlock had scarfed down half the box, and time was ticking on. She needed to get ready.
“You are something else,” she said, rubbing her tailbone.
Through a mouthful of Milkbones, Sherlock said, I’m a dog, can’t blame me.
“I can and I just did. But when you’re bloated and feel like you weigh a million pounds, you’re on your own, Sherlock.”
It was totally worth it.
And just like that, he polished the rest of the box off and began chewing on the cardboard for dessert. Maria snatched it away. No way in hell was she going to come back from her date and clean up Milkbone box confetti. She just wished there was a spell for all of this or something. A flick of the wrist, and she’s Cinderella all ready to go to Prince Charming’s ball. There probably was, but if that was true, she didn’t know it…yet.
“Guess I’ll have to do things the hard way for now.”
Give it back!
“Say please.”
Pleaseeeeeeee.
Maria went around the back of the house toward the side where their garbage cans sat until Monday morning, when the garbage truck came through the neighborhood. She threw the box in the big recycling bin with the heavy lid, while Sherlock watched with sad eyes.
“Ugh, fine,” Maria said, and dug it out. Sherlock perked up instantly, his tail swishing pebbles side to side. “But go chew it up in the garage so I can at least sweep it up with a broom instead of having to pick out a million tiny pieces of cardboard from the carpet.”
You’re the best!
He ran at her again, but not as hard as before. He jumped up, his dirty paws smearing her t-shirt, which was no big deal, and he swiped her face with a flick of his slobbery tongue.
“Yuck! Milkbone breath!”
Better than dead squirrel breath, right?
Maria wiped the spit away from her cheek and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
***
Upstairs, Maria tried to tame her wild hair. It just wasn’t working. Firstly, she’d never really been on a date before. Of course, there was that time in eighth grade when she went to the Formal Dance with Bobby Hart, but they’d arrived separately, hadn’t matched her dress to his tie, and only danced once throughout the night—at an arm’s length away, thanks to Mr. Ross and his flashlight, scanning the dark gym floor for any signs of handsiness. So that didn’t really count.
Man, that’s sad, she thought. I haven’t had a boyfriend since I was like thirteen. What the hell is wrong with me?
She looked in the mirror, noting the wild brown hair and her tired eyes.
“A lot, apparently,” she answered herself.
With the brush, she tried to get through her locks again. No luck. In fact, the movement had sent some bristles to their deathbed.
She shook her head, the brush still stuck in her hair. “Time to call in the big guns…part two.”
She grabbed her phone and called Claire, but not before she saw a text message from Tabby that read: Doing better…next time we go to Oriceran, I’m bringing a big ass can of Raid, which made Maria chuckle.
Once Claire picked up the phone, Maria only had to say two words: “Fashion emergency.”
And Claire answered with, “On my way.”
***
Five minutes later, Sherlock was barking in the garage, and Claire was knocking on the door.
“Wow, record time,” Maria whispered, then added a, “Thank God” for good measure.
The brush was still in her hair as she went down the steps. It smacked against the side of her face a few times before she even realized it was there, and she was not fast enough getting it out before Claire took it on herself to come in.
Maria froze halfway down the hall as Claire looked her over, her hand coming up to her face to hide her laughter.
“When did you get a key?” Maria asked.
Through the laughter, Claire said, “I’ve known you pretty much my whole life. Don’t act like I don’t know that your grandpa hides a spare key at the bottom of the bird bath.”
“I keep telling him to move it because one of these days a bird is gonna end up swallowing it whole, but he never listens.”
“Glad he didn’t,” Claire replied. “Now, honey, what in the holy hell is wrong with you? You look like you got in a fight with your hairbrush and the hairbrush won…and is still winning.”
“That’s why I called you. You’ve got a knack for fashion, and I need to look good.”
Claire waved the comment away. “Oh, Maria, you always look good.” But she couldn’t hide the fact she was snickering.
“Yeah, yeah, just help me.”
“All right, I will, but it won’t be easy.” Claire checked the time on her iPhone. Joe would be in the driveway in twenty-five minutes. “80s movie montage?”
“Oh, God, not again,” Maria said.
From the garage, where Maria could faintly hear the ripping of cardboard and soft growls, Sherlock spoke up. Is that Claire? If it is, tell her I take back what I said about her and I not going to Dog Prom!
Maria ignored him.
“To start, you’re going to have to hop in the shower—no, don’t hop. You might break a leg and that’d be bad,” Claire went on, her hands motioning while she talked.
“Har-har.”
“Seriously, you need to tame that wild mane, and the only way I see that happening is by showering…plus, Maria, you kind of smell like—” She sniffed the air deeply. “Is that Milkbone?”
Maria sighed. “Yeah…long story. I’m just glad you didn’t say I smelled like dog pee or Gnome.”
&nb
sp; “Better than Gnome pee.”
“Is it?”
Both of them cracked smiles and lost themselves to uncontrollable laughter.
“Go, shower, go!”
***
Maria showered and when she got out only five minutes later, Claire was standing in the steamy bathroom, holding out a towel in one hand, and covering her eyes with the other.
“Don’t tell me you have a key to my bathroom, too,” Maria said.
“Nope, you didn’t lock it. Hurry up and dry off. And don’t give me that look.”
“I thought your eyes were covered.”
“Maria, please, you’ve seen one pair, you’ve seen them all—at least that’s what my grandma always said…around the time the dementia set in, and she would go gardening in her front yard as naked as the day she was born…”
“Wise words to live by. Can’t beat an old woman who’s bold enough to garden in the nude.”
“Yeah,” Claire said, “I miss her.”
“How’s Tabby?” Maria asked, wanting to quickly change the subject from Claire’s naked grandma—which was a picture she wasn’t going to get out of her head anytime soon.
“She’s good, at home resting. But no more talk. It’s time.”
“Please, Claire, don’t play—”
It was too late. Claire pushed a button, and her iPhone blared ‘Eye of the Tiger’ from the Rocky movies.
The 80s movie montage had begun.
***
“Holy shit!” Maria said a quarter of an hour later. “I look like a princess!”
Joe would be there in five minutes.
“Where did you even get this outfit? I don’t own this…do I?”
Claire’s only answer was a grin.
“Seriously, where?”
“Magic,” Claire said, waving her hands in an arc.
“Nuh-uh.”
“Okay, I stole it from Ted’s wife…there, ya happy?” Claire said. She stuck her tongue out immediately after. Ted was Maria’s former boss at the Popcorn Palace—a small store in the food court that specialized in all sorts of rare popcorn flavors. Maria had been fired there only a day or two ago—she wasn’t sure which. Ever since going to Oriceran, her internal clock was all messed up.
“Ted doesn’t have a wife. God have mercy on any woman who’d sleep in the same bed as him.”
“I don’t know where it’s from, but it was in your grandpa’s closet.”
Maria paled. “You went in there?”
“Relax, I didn’t see anything weirder than what I saw on a different planet. Some pretty weird stuff—why would he have a stuffed ferret and for what purpose?—but nothing too crazy. The dress was hanging next to a bunch of other weird outfits that I haven’t seen him wear. I see your eyes getting big; don’t worry, it was in plastic and doesn’t smell like mothballs or Gnome pee.”
“I wonder whose it was,” Maria said, mostly to herself. An odd feeling came over her. Was this dress, this ornately decorated blue dress that sparkled like crystals in the sun, something my mother might’ve worn on Oriceran? With the odd feeling and hopeful thought came the sadness. She wished she’d known her mother. She wished she could’ve been there helping Claire get her ready for her first date. She wished for so many things.
Then came the thoughts of the village, and Duke in her dreams, and, for some reason, a great winged beast. No, why am I thinking that? That won’t happen, she thought. Her mother would never rise from the dead. There was no spell to bring her back. It may have worked on the Arachnid, but she doubted it would work on regular Oricerans—that, Maria was almost sure of. She had no intention of using dark magic when she could hardly control her newfound light-magic.
Wow! Sherlock entered the bathroom. There were bits of red cardboard on his muzzle. Maria, you look amazing.
“You’re not being a jerk?”
Me? Never!
“Thanks, Sherlock.”
Maria stood up from the stool she was sitting on. She ran her fingers through her hair. It felt softer than it ever had, and for once, it laid flat; not one stubborn strand sticking out. “Claire, you are seriously a miracle worker. I looked like a foot before you helped me.”
Claire brushed her shoulders and smirked. “No big deal. Better than working on the customers at Sephora. God, some of them can be such a pain.”
Sherlock’s ears perked up, then he barked low just as a knock came from the front door.
All of their eyes went wide, which was really saying something for Sherlock, whose eyes were almost always droopy.
“Joe!” Maria said. “Oh, my God, oh, my God, are you sure I look—”
“You look fantastic. I am an artist.” Claire pronounced it ‘arteest.’ “Now go on, before he changes his mind.”
Maria’s heart went wild in her chest. She couldn’t believe it was actually happening, that she was finally going on a date with Joe. In a way, it was almost crazier than discovering she was a witch, technically born on another planet.
She went down the steps, and Claire and Sherlock followed her about halfway, then stopped so they could watch from the shadows.
Maria opened the door, and Joe’s jaw dropped to his stomach. In his hands he held another bouquet of roses—this time blue, almost the same shade as her dress. He handed them to her shakily.
“You look…you look beautiful, Maria.”
She blushed and hoped that wouldn’t mess up her makeup. She wasn’t used to wearing any.
“Thank you. You look handsome yourself, Joe,” she replied.
Tell him if he hurts you, I’m not only gonna pee on him, but I’ll rip his balls off! Sherlock said. Maria tried her best to ignore it.
Just keep smiling, she thought.
She took the flowers into the kitchen and put them in a vase of water. She and Claire caught eyes when she passed, and Claire nodded, letting her know by way of their own best friend, mental telepathy that she would cut the stems and make sure the flowers weren’t dead by the time they got back.
Joe held the door open for her.
I mean it! Sherlock’s voice chased her.
They walked down the path arm in arm. Joe’s muscles bulged beneath the dark gray cardigan he wore.
Keep calm, Maria, keep calm, she told herself.
Suddenly, her free hand went to her waist, searching for the sword and the sword belt. Had she forgotten to take it off in her haste?
No. It wasn’t there. She could probably thank Claire for that. But she still had her music box, only because she didn’t trust it out of her hands. Gramps brought up Frodo and The Lord of the Rings earlier while they were in Oriceran, hadn’t he?
In some silly way, the music box was Maria’s One Ring. If she lost it to the spiders and their dark magic, she will have failed. And Maria did not plan on failing ever again.
Joe opened her car door. He drove a modest black Honda Civic; nothing fancy, but quite nice compared to Maria’s car—which was currently non-existent.
“Thank you,” she said.
He smiled and got in on the driver’s side.
“Where are we going?”
“I was thinking we could grab dinner. Your choice.”
Maria fanned herself, putting on a southern accent. “Oh, Joe, dahling, you’re much too good to little ol’ me.”
He chuckled awkwardly.
Instantly, Maria blushed. “Okay, let’s just completely forget that I did that.”
“Did what?”
Maria looked at Joe, confused.
He winked.
“Ah, I see. Yeah, you’re right…did what?”
“So…dahling,” Joe said, mimicking Maria’s voice almost perfectly, “where are we eating?”
Maria rolled her eyes. “Hilarious,” she said sarcastically, but in all honesty, Maria had been smiling so much since Joe came to her front door that her face was hurting, and she knew it was going to be that kind of night.
“Olive Garden?” Joe suggested when an awkward silence settled
over them.
“Sounds delicious,” Maria answered. She could’ve eaten anything at that moment. How hungry she was didn’t hit her until she started picturing Olive Garden’s golden breadsticks and cheesy ravioli. Oh, no, I’m turning into Sherlock. Next thing she knew, she’d be rooting through the dumpsters behind Olive Garden and growling at any people walking by.
“Then to the Garden we go, milady,” Joe said, putting the car into reverse. As he pulled onto the deserted road, he said, “Let’s just forget I said that, too. I’m not some medieval knight. I’m sorry.”
Maria put on her best British accent (which wasn’t very good at all) and replied, “Quite all right, your grace.”
They both laughed, and for a split second, as Joe shifted into drive, their eyes met and Maria felt a fire smoldering between them.
Yes, it was going to be a fine night. The date would go well and she’d eat and be happy and perhaps Joe would even kiss her… She just hoped Gramps was okay.
***
The ice cream shop on Main Street in Akron, Ohio was busy. Lois looked at the line of people and thought to herself that she could really go for a chocolate-vanilla swirl—especially in this heat. Ohio was hotter than she remembered. Global warming. She shook her head.
She walked across the street and opened the door, turning sideways to squeeze by a group of high school kids dressed in baseball uniforms. The line at the counter was fifteen deep, but Lois was in the PDA; she didn’t have to worry about lines, especially when she was on official PDA/unofficial Silver Griffin business. She cut around everyone, getting a few choice looks from baseball moms and coaches. Her badge burned in her pocket, but not as much as her wand.
The Midwest Wanderer Page 11
