Cursed (The Curse Trilogy Book 1)

by Nicole Marsh

  Resigned, I snatch my purse and wordlessly follow Vlad to his desk. He boots up his computer and gathers up a pen and paper to hand to me. “Have you ever conducted an interview before?” Vlad asks while he logs into his computer.

  I silently shake my head. This whole thing feels like the beginning of a trick or a prank. It seems like he’s being nice and trying to help me with this assignment, but he’s burned me so many times in the past, I don’t believe it.

  Vlad and I didn’t always have issues. Up until five and a half years ago, we used to be best friends. We hung out together all the time, both at home and at school, even though he was a grade ahead of me. Part of it was from our parents being best friends and neighbors, the other part was we had really compatible personalities. Vlad has always been quiet, but firm in his opinions and willing to stand up against something that isn’t right. A natural born leader, if you will. I’m also pretty quiet, but more go with the flow, and quick to let things roll off my back. A natural born follower, if you will.

  Everything with our friendship was great. Then six months before his family moved across town, Vlad began his transition to awful. It started as him simply ditching me. Instead of coming over to my house to hang out and do homework, he decided to join the football team and was always busy with practice or his teammates.

  My mom said maybe our lives were just taking different paths now that we’re both growing up. It hurt to lose my only friend, I felt abandoned, but my mom helped ease the pain by spending time with me instead. She also enrolled me in my first pottery class, which unlocked my passion for art. I moved past Vlad abandoning me and threw myself into making misshapen pots and animals for my mom to proudly display around our house.

  It turns out Vlad wasn’t content with just leaving me behind and two months before he moved to the other side of town, he began bullying me. It started with small taunts in the hallway about my height or my newly paint covered clothing. Although it hurt coming from someone I used to be so close to, I laughed off the rude words and kept my head held high.

  Two weeks later, I came to school and opened my locker to find it filled to the brim with garbage. The books I’d left in their overnight reeked like moldy gym socks. When I went to the principal, he didn’t believe me that I didn’t put the garbage in my own locker for attention. I was forced to clean it up myself and pay the fees to replace my books. On top of everything else, I was given detention for messing with school property.

  I refused to let Vlad see that he was getting to me, but he just upped his game. Two days later my chained up bike was buried under a mound of garbage. “We thought you’d want to spend time with your kind,” was yelled from the crowd that watched me as I cleaned up the mess.

  The next week, my clothes went missing while I was showering in PE and I had to put on my sweaty gym uniform to wear the rest of the day. A few days after, my seat in math was painted red and I thought my teacher was going to die of embarrassment as he sent me to the nurse’s office when I tried to leave his class, headed to lunch.

  As if his torture wasn’t bad enough, Vlad was quickly able to turn it into a game and the other kids in school joined in. The few friends I had that were passionate about school and art, quickly abandoned me to get out of the line of fire. Soon I didn’t even know if Vlad was the mastermind behind all of the abuse or if the other kids just enjoyed it so much they came up with their own pranks. Once Vlad left our school, I thought it would all end, but he just recruited the cheerleaders to do his dirty work for him.

  The girls were much cattier and aggressive than Vlad was, starting rumors to go with their pranks. They told everyone I was sleeping with the entire baseball team, our principal, with guys from the other school in town, ones that I’d never even met. The rumors were nasty and unfounded. I’m almost eighteen years old, and I’ve never been asked on a date because the guys in town have all heard about me from the rumor mill. I’ve never even been kissed! Our town has two males for every female, so the fact that no one has ever asked me out solidifies my pariah status.

  I got used to being a loner. I didn’t need friends, I had my art. Honestly without my art I’m not sure that I would’ve made it through high school. Well that and Sylvia who transferred to school and quickly became my replacement best friend despite the bullying.

  To say I’m excited to be done with high school would be a massive understatement. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck working with Vlad, but it seems unavoidable that I will continue to be on his radar for the near future, I need to stay diligent.

  Vlad has been silent for a few seconds, so I raise my eyes from the paper he gave me. He does this sort of head nod thing to show he thought I hadn’t interviewed previously. Even if I was interested in the school newspaper, kids would’ve just tormented me endlessly and no one would’ve taken my articles seriously. Starting in middle school, I stopped participating beyond the minimum requirements. All of my art classes and projects have been taken at the community center or with a private instructor at my house.

  “Okay so the first important tip is: you’re there to listen.” Vlad taps the notepad he handed me. “Write these tips down. I’ll go over this then we’ll start researching the team to formulate informed questions for our subject.”

  I jot down ‘1. Listen’ on my notepad. Vlad watches as I write, nods approvingly, then continues giving me his tips. “You want to ask open-ended questions so you get the most genuine response. You also want to prepare a variety of questions on different topics and have a few follow-up questions ready too just in case, but sometimes you have to follow your gut and go off script. If someone gives an unexpected answer, you want to chase that story. That’s the good stuff.”

  Scribbling on the pad of paper, I try to capture everything that Vlad told me in a few brief words. This is the most Vlad has said to me in one sitting since he moved across town almost five years ago. His advice is actually helpful and it shows how passionate he is about his job at the Daily.

  Growing up, Vlad always told me he wanted to be a sports reporter. He was incredibly athletic, even when we were younger, and grew up playing football. As much as he loved playing, he loved his team and delving into people’s stories, finding what made them passionate about the game. It’s part of what made him a good Captain, at least according to my dad. So much has changed since Vlad and I were childhood friends, but clearly his passion for talking to people and finding a good story, hasn’t.

  Vlad continues to provide instructions on how to conduct a successful interview for another twenty minutes before he pulls over his desk phone and punches in a number. He talks into the receiver for a few minutes before I realize that he’s speaking to the coach of his high school football team. After finalizing an interview with some of the players for later this afternoon, he hangs up.

  Once he’s off the phone, Vlad clicks around on his keyboard and brings up the stats for his old the team. Over his shoulder I can see the numbers are broken down by game averages and player averages. Vlad goes over the numbers for the past two seasons, reading information from his computer screen, and I jot down snippets as he talks.

  Next, Vlad gives me a question that he’s thought up and makes me create a series of follow up questions that will help gather more information. We repeat this exercise for an hour or so until Vlad finally declares that we’re ready. Glancing at the clock, I see that it’s only eleven, meaning we have four hours to kill. “What do we do now?”

  “Let’s grab some lunch then head over to the school and grab a few photos of the field before we talk to the players.” Vlad suggests.

  I take a second to mull over his words. Now he’s suggesting we eat lunch together? It’s like we’re friends again, almost. The new dynamic that Vlad is fostering today, makes me uncomfortable. He’s being awfully nice, providing useful information about interview prep and now a lunch invite... I need to be careful around this version of Vlad. It could be a trick, and if it isn’t, nice Vlad may be more danger
ous to me than the bully version.

  5

  The Interview

  Mirabella

  We walk across the parking lot and I contemplate my next move. Do I offer to give Vlad a ride? Do I get in his car? Where are we going to lunch?

  Things are never this awkward with my only other friend, Sylvia. She’s more of a planner and before we left the building, we would’ve already decided where we’re eating and determined who’s driving. I don’t know how to act in this new, ambiguous friendship territory with Vlad.

  Vlad settles my unspoken questions by walking over to his car and opening the door. “I’ll drive us over to the Diner.”

  The Diner is one of the places kids our age hang out. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve never been, due to the bullied-loner social status thing. The Diner, is where people go to see and be seen, and I definitely spent most of my high school years attempting to be invisible.

  Sylvia and I prefer to go to the movies or order take-out and eat in my studio. You know, places without kids from our school. The thought of going to the Diner for the first time with Vlad creates a cocktail of excitement and fear pumping through my veins.

  I’m so lost in thought, I don’t realize that I’ve been hovering outside of Vlad’s car silently until he pushes open the passenger door to his car from the inside. “Are you coming?” He asks impatiently.

  I move to get into the car, but pause at the last second. “No nude coffee stands this time, right?”

  Vlad just scoffs, and tugs on my leg so I fall ungracefully as heap onto the seat. My knees are pressed against the dash with my head against the middle of the back, a lumpy but soft object is pressing into my hip from underneath. I scramble to right myself, pulling the object from the bottom of the seat at the same time.

  It’s soft fabric and after holding it up for inspection, I realize its Vlad’s sweatshirt from his high school football team. It’s well well-worn and the fabric has that perfect fluffy feel of cotton that’s been washed enough, but not too often to become threadbare. I move to throw it into the backseat, but Vlad stops me. “I brought that for you. I noticed at Sunday dinner that you were experiencing a sweatshirt shortage.”

  My cheeks heat with embarrassment and I turn my head to the side to hide it. I knew Vlad saw me wearing Marc’s sweatshirt yesterday, but I didn’t think that he would bring it up. After my embarrassment lessens, I think more about Vlad’s sweatshirt, gently rubbing the fabric against my palm. This is weird, what kind of tormentor starts giving their victim clothes. I should give it back, right?

  I spend the rest of the car ride staring out the window preoccupied. Vlad is becoming more of a mystery today with each passing minute.

  Vlad parks at the Diner and allows me a mere minute to absorb it before we get out. The building looks like a space ship, with a rounded chrome front covered in glass windows. After a full minute of silence, Vlad shoots me a sharp look. “Are you ready to get out of the car or are you waiting for an invite?” His door is already propped open and he has one foot resting on the asphalt.

  I shrug in response before adding, “I’ve never been here before so I was taking it in.”

  The harsh scowl on Vlad’s face seems to soften a bit. “Everyone comes here after school or practice, how is this your first time?”

  Shrugging again, I decide not to answer. Vlad knows how poorly I was treated in middle school and high school, he was the instigator. Coming here would’ve just been an open invitation for more bullying, it can’t really be surprising that I’ve never been before today.

  Walking into the Diner together, my eyes are wide, absorbing every detail in case this is my first and last experience here. Vlad chats with the hostess as we walk to our table. I’m glad he keeps her attention, leaving me free to look around.

  My gaze darts from the tabletops made of white, glitter-dotted plastic with a rim of silvery chrome, to the red and white checkered vinyl floor. The walls are bright red and plastered in various ads for the events happening around town, both past and present. All of the booths are filled, some with families, but most with kids our age.

  When we reach our booth, Vlad and I slide into opposite sides. I pick up the sticky menu and flip through it with a small smile on my face. I feel like I’m getting the real high school experience, a bit late, but it’s exciting nonetheless.

  A waitress approaches our table, she’s dressed in a light blue dress with a white half-apron and a name tag that says Cindy. She’s an older lady with stark white hair and a wrinkled face, but she offers a friendly smile while she takes our order. Vlad and I both order burgers, medium for me, rare for Vlad.

  Once Cindy leaves our table, I gaze past Vlad to take in the chaos surrounding us. We’re seated in a booth near the front windows, close to the hostess stand. It’s not quite a corner booth, but it’s still out of the way and easy to see what’s happening at the other tables from where we sit.

  On the other end of the dinner, four tables are filled with people that looks about our age. Guys and girls hop between the tables, laughing and talking loudly. One girl I recognize from high school, Kaylee, is sitting on a guy’s lap, they look like they’re caught up in their own world, while friends around them carry on their own conversations. The environment of the Diner is happy and boisterous. I can see why kids from high school would come here to unwind and hang out.

  Vlad interrupts my observations of the Diner. “If you’ve never been here, what did you normally do after school?”

  Tearing my gaze from the other diners to focus on him, I reply, “Sometimes Sylvia and I would go the movies, but mostly we just hung out at my house. Usually in my studio.”

  “Oh. Like a dance studio?” Vlad asks.

  I study his face to see if he’s messing with me, but his expression appears genuine. “No, my art studio… where I paint.” I watch his face as pieces click together in his mind. “The painting that I gave your parents last year for Christmas was one of mine.”

  Last year, I gave Vlad’s parents a painting of the forest. The foreground shows the dirt with a few small shrubs, towards the middle of the painting one dark, lone wolf sits howling up at into the air. The backdrop featured looming fir trees and a gloomy night sky.

  Vlad speaks quietly, and I strain my ears to hear him. “We have dinner together every Sunday for the last five years, and I feel like I barely know you.” I’m not sure that Vlad meant for me to hear him, or if he was thinking out loud. I’m saved from having to respond as Cindy arrives with our food, placing a full plate in front of each of us.

  As soon as Vlad’s plate hits the table, he digs in with gusto. I’m about to take a bite of my burger when a slice of pickle hits the table near my water glass. I glance around to see where it came from, but no one else seems to be paying us any attention. Shrugging it off with the logic that it probably flew out of Vlad’s burger with the amount of ferocity he’s eating with. I pick up the pickle and place it on the corner of his plate and he mumbles an unintelligible response.

  Without further thought, I hungrily dive into my own food. My burger is greasy and delicious, this diner is amazing. I want to eat here every day from now on.

  I’m halfway finished with my food, when an object comes flying through the air and hits the side of my head. An onion ring plops down onto the table between us. I slowly lower my burger back onto my plate to look around. This isn’t from Vlad savagely devouring his food, neither of us have onion rings in our order.

  It isn’t hard to figure out who started throwing food. As soon as my eyes land on one of the tables behind us, the girls giggle and a small barrage of fries hit me in the back. In response, I shrink down into the booth as much as possible, to try become a small target for that’s now steadily streaming in my direction.

  Vlad finishes his burger and looks up from his plate to see me cowering on my side of the table. “What are you doing?” He asks in a sharp tone.

  I reply without looking up or changing position, “Nothing. Just do
ne eating.” As I’m talking, a half a burger bun comes flying from behind me and hits the side of my face. It slides down before falling into my lap, and I can feel a trail of condiments left in its wake.

  Peering up underneath my eyelashes, I catch a glimpse of Vlad’s face and wish I hadn’t. He looks furious and I quickly look down again, hoping it isn’t directed at me. Vlad surprises me when he pushes himself up from the booth and stomps halfway across the Diner, stopping in front of the group of tables with kids our age.

  His voice carries across the Diner. Although I can’t make out the exact words, his tone sounds low and dangerous, and his expression is murderous as he addresses the table. At one point he gestures to me, still sitting in our booth, and I quickly turn to face the opposite way so they don’t see me watching.

  After a few minutes, Vlad returns and throws himself down into the booth. The Diner is almost silent, the boisterous environment seems to have turned somber. I push some food around on my plate, waiting for Vlad to say something, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I open my mouth to apologize for ruining our lunch, I should’ve known it was a bad idea to come here.

  Before I can get the words out, water bursts out of the glass on the table in front of me. Someone must’ve thrown something else causing the water to overflow from the glass, even after Vlad’s went to their table. I get lightly sprayed by the water, but our table gets the brunt of it. The paper place mats get soaked and the excess water starts a steady drip to the floor. Cindy rushes over with an apology and throws a rag on the mess, trying to sop it up.