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Chapter Five
Genevieve took an instinctive step backward.
Neither Meredith nor the man made any move toward her, and instead
remained still just outside the doorway of one of the far rooms. Mulling
over her words for a moment, Gen's gaze darted from Meredith to the man,
back and forth, trying to make sense of what she saw. Her stalker knew
Meredith... And Meredith had been the one to approach her to work on the
project...
She seemed to know me...know my friends...God,
has she been helping him?
"What the hell is going on?" Genevieve
managed to sound far calmer than she felt, though she attributed that in
part to the fact that neither Meredith nor the creep had moved near her
yet.
"It's okay," Meredith said gently. "You're going to be
fine—just let me explain—"
"Explain what?" Gen cut in. "That
you're apparently friends with my stalker?"
"He's not a stalker—"
"He was following me and standing outside my house, which in some
circles—like law abiding ones—is considered stalking!"
"It's not like that—"
"Okay, how about attempted murderer
then?"
Confusion furrowed Meredith's brows. "What are you talking
about?"
"I mean he attacked me and grabbed me and threatened to
kill me!"
"He didn't..." She paused as she glanced at her
companion. "You didn't really threaten her, did you?" she hissed.
"Yeah, he did," Gen said before he could. Her gaze travelled
across the room, refreshing her memory of her environment so she could
plan her escape. There were few obstacles impeding her path to the door,
but Meredith and the creepy guy were closer to the exit than she was.
They'd catch up with her.
Gen's eyes fell on the table in the
kitchen area. There sat her bag, which while lacking something useful like
a Taser, did hold her cell phone. She could call the police. Granted, she
didn't have the slightest idea what the hell to tell them, but she'd worry
about that once they arrived and arrested these people.
"I can't
believe you threatened—" Meredith began.
"I do what's necessary,"
the man said, keeping his eyes on Genevieve as he directed his comment to
Meredith. At least Gen thought his words were for Meredith—the way he
stared at Genevieve herself, she couldn't be certain.
"This is why
I said we should talk about approaching her," Meredith replied. "Dammit
Michael, you just ended up freaking her out—"
"Oh, it's Michael,
is it?" Gen interrupted. "Got a last name I can have so I know who the
restraining order should be made out to?"
"It was just a
misunderstanding then," Meredith said. "Just stay calm and I'll explain—"
"Call me crazy, but right now I'm less interested in hearing why
you lied to me and put me in a room with the guy who attacked me, and more
interested in getting the fuck away from you and Mikey."
"Gen—"
Meredith started towards her, but Michael put up his hand to stop her. She
ceased her approach and instead took a step back, allowing him to take the
lead.
"Look, you guys can give all your explanations to the cops,"
Genevieve said.
"We don't have time for your idle threats,"
Michael said coldly.
Gen glanced towards her phone again. It was
at least four metres away. She could make it as long as he didn't figure
out what she was doing. "Believe me, they're far from idle."
"You
think you can make it to your phone before I reach you?"
"I'm
counting on it," she replied, seeing no sense in lying about what she was
thinking.
"Because your boyfriend and his friends will come and
rescue you?" he asked. A slight smile pulled at his lips, as though the
thought of that highly amused him. It couldn't compare to the humour
Genevieve found in it, and that was enough to break some of her fear.
"My boyfriend? You're a pretty shitty stalker
if you think I'm going out with Levi."
He seemed unfazed by her
remark, and Gen wondered if he had been serious about the boyfriend
comment to begin with.
"I know what I need to know about you," he
said instead, taking a step toward her. While there was still a
considerable gap between them, Genevieve stepped back on instinct.
Michael paced toward her again, and Gen continued to match his
steps backward to maintain their distance apart.
"That seems to be
a Pavlovian response with you," he said, observing her quick retreat as he
moved forward.
While her immediate reaction was to stop running
and march toward him, Genevieve was quick to recall he carried a weapon
when they last ran into each other. Best to keep the hell away from the
guy.
"What can I say—you hold a knife to my throat, and I learn my
lesson the first time."
"A knife?" Meredith repeated, staring
at Michael. "You actually brought out a knife?"
Michael turned his
head to glance back at her and address her question. The moment his eyes
left Genevieve, however, she took off for her phone.
Gen hadn't
gone two feet before a knife whizzed by her face. The tip of the blade
struck the space between two bricks and stood straight out of the wall,
buried at least an inch deep. Genevieve froze, staring at the
still-humming knife, which had missed her face by only a few centimetres.
"I haven't finished speaking to you yet," Michael informed her.
Slowly, she sent a sideways glance his way, almost afraid to look
in case he had any more sharp projectiles in hand. He appeared to be
unarmed, though she definitely wasn't trusting appearances any longer.
"This isn't going to work," Meredith said to her companion, her
voice pleading with him. "She isn't going to listen to you if you keep
scaring her!"
While Genevieve hated them discussing her as if she
was some frightened, cornered animal, in truth that was how she felt. She
kept her silence, but remained on guard.
"She should be scared,"
Michael responded calmly. "If she steps foot out that door, she'll be
killed."
"Please, Gen," Meredith said, giving up on persuading
Michael and turning her pleas to Genevieve. "Just sit down and
listen—that's all I ask."
"It ceases to be 'asking' when some
maniac is throwing knives at me!" Gen shot back.
"What will make
you feel safe enough to hear him out then?" Meredith asked.
"Nothing."
"Please, there's got to be something..."
"How about a public place? Or the police station?"
"Not an
option," Michael replied.
Genevieve thought about it for a moment,
and then her eyes settled on her messenger bag.
"My phone," she
said. "He," she pointed at Michael, "proves he's not carrying anymore
weapons, stays the hell away from me, and you," she gestured at Meredith,
"give me my phone."
"That sounds fair enough, right Michael?"
Meredith said, glancing at her friend.
He stared at Genevieve a
moment longer, scrutinizing her, studying her expression, weighing her
down with his very gaze. At last he nodded his consent. "Fine."
"Okay then—let's see the lack of weapons."
This time
Michael wasn't wearing his jacket, and even with his loose black shirt and
pants, there weren't many places he could hide things. He rolled up his
sleeves, turned out his pockets then gave her a shrug.
"Let's see
under your pant leg," Gen responded with skepticism.
Clearly he
wasn't expecting that, and hesitated for a moment.
"I watch
movies, you know—let's see."
With a heavy sigh, at last he reached
for his left ankle and pulled out a small black semi-automatic handgun.
Gen felt her heart jump into her throat as he carelessly tossed it on the
Persian rug in front of him.
"Now the other one."
Sure
enough, strapped to his right ankle was a set of small throwing knives. He
unhooked the belt-like strap and tossed them next to his gun.
"He's not going to hurt you," Meredith said.
"You're
really not the one who's going to strengthen his case right now."
Without another word, Meredith went for the kitchen to snatch the
bag off of the table, while Michael walked back to lean against the wall
opposite Genevieve, watching her.
Her attempts to remain calm
weren't getting any easier with Michael's green eyes boring into her, so
Gen averted her gaze and tried to be patient as Meredith picked up the bag
and walked over.
"Here."
Genevieve snatched her messenger
bag and rifled through it. She briefly ceased her search as she felt the
familiar hard plastic of the phone. I have my cell—it'll be all
right.
But no, it wouldn't be all right. Would
she have time to call for help? If she did get a hold of the police, would
they even get to the house on time? Though it would be nice for her
parents to at least be able to find her body, dying wasn't exactly high on
the priority list. If she could, she had to get away from these people...
And that wouldn't be happening until she had leverage over them.
"I hope we can talk about this now," Meredith began.
In a
split second, Gen made her decision. She let her bag—and her phone—drop to
the ground. At the same time, she reached for the knife plunged into the
wall, and yanked it out before Meredith realized what was happening. Her
dark eyes widened as Gen grabbed her and spun her around, pressing her arm
over her chest and thrusting the knife up against her throat.
Oh God, I did not just do this—I'm not really
holding a knife to this girl's throat...
Despite Genevieve's
realization that this was a completely insane decision on her part, she
nonetheless found herself pinning Meredith against her, threatening the
girl the very same way Michael had with her two days earlier.
"It's okay—calm down, Genevieve," Meredith said soothingly, as if
unfazed by her current predicament. Gen couldn't be sure if Meredith knew
she was serious or not—hell, Genevieve herself didn't know if she was
serious.
Meredith's attempts at calming her captor were
interrupted by the slow, rhythmic clapping of Michael. The eyes of both
girls shot to him.
"And her true colours emerge at last." While a
cold grin played at the corners of his mouth, it never quite extended to
his eyes. He didn't seem surprised by her actions, but while he had an air
of smug satisfaction that she behaved as he predicted, he also seemed
almost...disappointed at the same time.
All of which told
Genevieve she was crazy and just reading too much into the creep's
expression.
"Just let me leave. Please." She knew she shouldn't be
pleading; the whole point of grabbing Meredith was to show she was
strong—that she wouldn't be pushed around and she was capable of fighting
back. But Michael clearly didn't believe her anymore than she believed
herself.
"Perhaps you weren't listening before. I told you, if you
step foot outside that door, you will be killed."
"So just don't
kill me! Is that so difficult?"
"More than you know."
"What the hell—"
"Michael isn't going to kill you,
Genevieve," Meredith cut in. "He's trying to protect you."
"And
what a fine job he was doing, what with all the following me and
threatening me and trying to kill me!"
"If I wanted you dead, you
would be," Michael replied.
While she didn't doubt that for a
second, it did little to convince her he was in any way interested in
helping her.
"So you weren't trying to kill me when you held a knife to my
throat?"
"Do you intend to kill Merri right now?"
That
question made her pause. Well, no, the truth was she didn't intend to hurt
Meredith. She couldn’t bring herself to lie about that.
"No," she
replied, her voice low after a long pause. "But—"
"But you want us
to listen to you—to take you seriously," Michael finished for her, and
waited as the pieces fell together in her mind. "When the situation calls
for it, a person does what he has to."
"Or you could have just
come up to me and talked to me like a non-stalker-y crazy person!"
"Which, you may recall, I tried to do. You ran."
Shit, he
had her there. Though in her defense he still seemed pretty scary even
when he wasn't holding a knife to her throat. "So who were you trying to
protect me from?" Gen asked, still not ready to relinquish Meredith, her
only bargaining chip at this point.
"Take a look at that blade
you're holding."
Though she loathed to take her eyes from Michael,
even for a second, she didn't think he'd actually go through Meredith to
get to her.
At least she hoped not.
Gen glanced over
Meredith's shoulder at the small silver knife. While she didn't exactly
spend a lot of time studying knives, it looked like the one he had been
"protecting" her with two nights ago. Now, in the light of day, she could
better see the designs that wound around the hilt and extended onto the
thin blade. What looked like foreign writing of some sort was etched into
the metal, though it didn't look remotely familiar to her so she couldn't
be certain.
"What about it?" she finally asked, returning her
nervous gaze to Michael.
"I took that from one of a group of
people who tried to kill Merri," he replied.
"Right," Gen
muttered.
"It’s true," Meredith said. "He saved my life."
"Nice that he’s concerned about someone’s!" Gen said.
"I
wasn’t trying to kill you," Michael said. "And I have no immediate plans
to, either. Let Merri go."
Slowly, she released her grip on
Meredith as some of the tension dissipated from the room. Michael was
right—if he intended to kill her, he probably would have grabbed his gun
and shot her as soon as he knew she wouldn't really hurt Meredith. She
looked over the knife again as Meredith stepped out of the way and Michael
walked toward her.
"Look, I'm sorry someone was after her and
all," Gen said, handing the knife to Michael then scooping up her bag.
"But I don't see what—"
"What this has to do with you?" He held
the knife up at eye level in front of her, keeping the tip pointed
downward in a non-threatening fashion. "You can't read that?"
"Uh,
no, I don't know creepy knife languages."
With a roll of his rich
green eyes, he tucked the knife into a small sheath on his belt. "This
blade was meant for Merri's throat. There's an identical one meant for
yours as well, carried by an assassin."
"Wait...assassins?" Oh my God, this guy is fucking
insane!
"Do you need a dictionary or something?"
What an asshole.
"I know what a goddamn
assassin is," Gen replied sharply. "The skepticism in my voice came from
disbelief rather than confusion over the word."
"Yes, assassins."
His tone matched hers now, equally as sharp and annoyed, though far more
intimidating.
"Why me? Oh, wait, it's my English teacher, right?
She's always had it in for me, after all."
"This is serious, Gen,"
Meredith, who had been silent thus far, cut in.
"No,
crazy is what this is, but I'm listening and eagerly
awaiting his point."
Michael went to the couch not far from where
she stood, but rather than take a seat on the cushion, he leaned his tall
frame against the back and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Does
it even matter right now what my point is? You won't believe it."
"No, probably not, but I might find it amusing, so please:
explain."
"Michael," Meredith pleaded. "Just tell her. Let her
know it all and make up her own mind."
It's already made up,
Meredith, Gen thought, but she refrained from bringing up
that fact.
"What do you know about the end of the world,
Genevieve?" he asked.
"Um, I think it’s scheduled for next
Tuesday, according to the National Enquirer."
"Funny," he said
without laughing. "It’s unfortunate you don’t know much about it,
considering your role in it."
"Oh, my role in it? Where’d you hear
that?"
"Reliable texts."
"Oh shit, you are a bible
salesman, aren't you?" Dammit, Levi was right!
Michael ignored her.
"Texts and various sources have listed the signs, and right now, the signs
are here."
"And what is the end of the world going to entail?"
"What you would expect."
"So the usual pain, death,
destruction, a few plagues, war, famine, and all that jazz?"
"Essentially."
"You know, you didn't deny the bible
salesman thing, and this is sounding pretty Revelation-y to me."
"The powers that provided hope for the world exist in the form of
three women," Meredith took over. "Known as the Children of the
Apocalypse, the three would come together and be the sole force to prevent
hell on Earth."
"They're going to save the world?" Genevieve
asked, trying to keep the "wow, you guys are crazy" tone from her voice,
but doing a poor job of it.
"So I've heard," Michael replied.
"I'm guessing I'm one of these Armageddon kids, right?"
"Children of the Apocalypse," Meredith corrected.
"Whatever."
"Yes, you're one of them, as is Merri."
"So...I'm supposed to stop the end of the world..." Gen casually
slung her bag over her shoulder and wandered to the chair near where
Michael sat, and then hopped onto the arm. "That means I've got super
powers, right? So what can we do?"
He must have known she was
joking—in fact, his expression of annoyance told her as much—but he
indulged her nonetheless. "Each of you is different."
"But of
course—it wouldn't be very fun if we were the same."
"There's a
witch, a warrior, and a seer."
"What are you?" she directed to
Meredith.
"The seer."
"Hmm...well, I'm pretty sure I’m not
a warrior, so that leaves witch, I suppose?"
"Excellent
deduction," Michael muttered, his words dripping with sarcasm.
"Because at this point the lesbian witch is so original. How do I use my
super powers then? Wiggle my nose?"
"I know this seems weird, but
we're serious," Meredith said as she took a seat near Michael.
"Oh, of course, I know you think you are. Tell me this, though—if
I'm one of only three people who's going to be stopping the end of the
world, and I have these mystical powers, why do I need this guy to protect
me then?" Her gaze drifted from Meredith to Michael, to see if either of
them had an explanation for that. She doubted it—crazy people weren't
exactly known for their logic.
"Because you're unskilled,
unprepared, weak, and useless at the moment," Michael responded
nonchalantly.
"I suspect you need to rethink your brainwashing
techniques, because insulting me isn't going to be helpful."
"The
potential is there, you just haven't developed it yet," Meredith said,
again choosing softer phrasing than her companion had.
"Or maybe
I'm the wrong person. Did you try Izzy Marx? She says she's a witch. How
about I get you her number and you can check." Gen stood, gave them a
little wave, and started for the door. Though eager to leave, she kept on
her guard in case Michael decided to throw anything else at her. She made
it to the door without incident however, and spun around to face them just
as she twisted the doorknob.
"Have a wonderful day, and don't ever
bother me again, okay?" She gave them her sweetest smile.
"Genevieve," Meredith began as she started to stand. Michael put
his hand on her shoulder and drew her back, however, shaking his head and
motioning to let Gen go.
Meredith sent one last look Genevieve's
way. Concern filled her face, and for a moment Gen almost felt sorry for
her. It was too bad she turned out to be a raving lunatic who was friends
with a madman; she might have been cool. But there was no sense lamenting
the end of a friendship that never was, so Gen pushed open the front door
and stepped outside.
At first she almost expected some
knife-wielding, crazy assassin to be out there screaming her name and
taking swipes at her. Not wanting Meredith and Michael to know they had
gotten to her, though, she quickly closed the door behind her so they
wouldn't see her pause and glance around before she actually left the
safety of the building.
She continued down the next few streets on
her way home, encountering kids playing street hockey and the odd
dog-walker, but not a single assassin. The more she pondered what they had
said, the more bizarre it all seemed. Not merely the apocalypse bit, but
that they would involve her in it. She had never met either of them before
in her life.
And it wasn't like Genevieve was opposed to being
some cool save-the-world person. That would kick ass, actually. But if
she'd ever, in her entire life, exhibited any sort of mystical powers, she
was pretty sure she'd have remembered it.
Ahead of her was the
entrance to a park. She'd seen another entrance on the other side during
her trip to Meredith's place, and she realized now cutting through there
would shave several minutes from her trip.
Gen found the park
empty and silent. The sign outside the fence suggested to her why: no dogs
were allowed. Nothing annoyed her more than that kind of park, and she'd
always avoided them herself. Apparently the other residents of Newhaven
felt the same way.
As she entered the park, she fished through her
bag for her phone then dialled up Levi's number.
I can't wait to tell him
this,
she thought wryly.
"Hey, it's Gen," she said as he picked up. "You
won't believe what just happened to me—"
"Oh my god, me too! Last
night was insane—"
"Hold on, me first. So I was going to
Meredith's and—"
A dark, moving shape in Genevieve's peripheral
vision drew her attention away from the phone call. As she turned to look,
something solid collided with the side of her head. Her phone slipped from
her hand and spun out of reach, and Gen fell hard on the dirt ground.
She swore under her breath, thinking she couldn't wait to fill out
a police report against that damn Michael...
Then she looked up
and saw four men standing around her. Two were in their late twenties,
while the third was middle-aged, and the final one was a good ten years
older than that.
Not one of them was Michael.
"I already
talked to your friend," she said. "I told him I'm not your girl, so just
take your little cult and..."
Blank eyes stared back at her, as if
they didn't hear a word she said. Three of the men took out knives that
matched the one Michael had, while the fourth man pulled a handgun from
the pocket of his dark pants.
Sweat slithered down Genevieve's
brow, but she was too terrified to breath, let alone wipe her forehead.
"This is a mistake!" she insisted. Breathe deep, be
calm...
"Go back and check with that Michael guy—he'll tell you."
Gen
tried to scramble to her feet, but a sudden kick to her side pushed her
back down. The wind knocked out of her, she gripped her side, trying to
catch her breath and certain the kick had cracked a rib.
The next
moments occurred as a blur; bits of images and sounds strung together like
pearls, though Genevieve had little remembrance of the actual string.
She was on the ground, grumbling in pain, and almost more annoyed
than scared at that point because this stupid cult had mistaken her for
someone else. Then there was an odd click, and she glanced up to see the
barrel of a cocked gun aimed straight at her head.
Before she
could plead for her life or babble about their mistake again, the
gun-wielder cried out. He squeezed the trigger, but he was already
stumbling, and the bullet narrowly missed Genevieve's leg. A fifth figure
had appeared near her newest attackers.
Michael's eyes met
Genevieve's for a second as he looked down at her, and he uttered one
single word.
"Run."
She didn't need him to tell her twice.
While Michael struggled to hold the four attackers at bay, Gen
grabbed her fallen cell phone, swung her bag over her shoulder, and raced
toward the other end of the park. She dared to pause for only a second to
glance back and check the scene behind her, but there was only a blur of
figures fighting, grappling, and seriously damaging one another. She
couldn't even make out Michael, to see if he was harmed or even alive at
this point.
This is insane, she
thought,
I should go back there and help him... But what could she do? Shout at
them maybe, and then get smacked in the head again? She had been in one
fist fight when she was in elementary school, and that had been against a
girl her age—she was way out of her league now. The more the group fought,
the less and less likely it seemed even Michael would be getting away from
them.
Run.
His simple command echoed
in her head again. With a surge of inner resolve, she backed out the gates
of the park and then spun around and ran, not looking back.
Gen
was nearly out of breath as she burst through the end of the long walkway
that led away from the park, and stopped dead as she found herself in a
small court of houses. Her abrupt exit caused the two kids playing ball on
the lawn of the house near the walkway to stop their game and stare at her
strangely.
Though she mashed the buttons of her mobile phone, the
damn thing didn't seem to be working—the fall must have taken out
something vital, because now it wouldn't even switch on.
Genevieve
ran toward home again, glancing over her shoulder as she went, checking
for a sign of any member of the group of crazies, be it her attackers
or...well, technically Michael was an attacker too—she hadn't yet
forgotten his first impression. But at that moment, if she had to see
anyone following behind her, she'd prefer him.
She had slowed to a
half-walk, half-run by the time she was nearing her home, but as soon as
her house was in sight, she was back to a full run. Thudding up the front
steps breathlessly, she pushed through the front door and crashed inside.
The car parked outside told Gen her mother was home from ranting
at the central air company, and it was only a matter of moments before she
was stomping through the hall, ranting at Genevieve.
"Why the hell
would you just run off to someone's house without leaving a..." Rebecca
Weist froze in the hallway as her gaze settled on her daughter, and then
she rushed forward. "Gen, what happened..."
The words stuck in
Genevieve's throat.
"Gen..." Her mom had her face in her hands
now, turning it as she inspected the cheek that had been hit, brows
knitted together in concern. Rebecca's gaze went from one eye to the
other, searching, questioning, trying to decipher what Gen was thinking.
"What the hell happened?"
Gen gazed back at her mother, trying to
force out the story, to tell her the truth, but something held her back.
"I...uh..." she started. This was it. She had her mom's undivided
attention—she could tell her the truth. Explain what happened the other
night; reveal what happened less than fifteen minutes ago. It could all be
out in the open...
The shrill sound of the phone ringing
interrupted her, and she felt a wave of relief as the sound broke her
mother's attention for a second.
"Don't worry about that," Rebecca
said as she returned her focus to her daughter. "Your dad'll get it." She
waited, but the ringing continued. "Leo, pick up the goddamn phone!"
A few more moments passed, no doubt just to set her nerves on
edge, then the ringing ceased as Leo finally picked up the phone.
"Now, sweetie," Rebecca was back to motherly concern as she looked
at Gen once more. "What happened?"
What happened? Some people
tried to kill me...
"Gen?"
Michael's words flashed in
her mind again. Assassins sent for her—because of what they thought she
was. What Michael thought she was too. Either they were all drinking from
the same hallucinogenic-laced fruit punch...or...
"Gen, what—"
"A-a car," Gen replied at last.
I'm so going to regret this...
"A car?"
"I-I was...it was stupid
of me, I wasn't paying attention, and this car was pulling out..."
"Oh God, hun, did you get the license plate? We need to phone the
police and—"
"No, no, it's okay." She wasn't taking time to even
think up the story at this point—the words just poured forth, mechanically
almost, her tone even and emotionless. "It was my fault. I wasn't paying
attention and it was backing out of a driveway. I tripped trying to get
out of the way. Fell against the curb." She was surprised at how quickly
the lie slipped from her lips...and how easily her mom believed it.
"It doesn't matter—they should have been watching where they were
going—"
"I'm okay, Mom." Gen offered a smile. It was weak, she was
sure, but after studying her daughter a few moments longer, Rebecca's look
of concern seemed to soften.
She believed her.
"Come on,
let's get some ice on that." Nestled in her mother's protective arm, Gen
felt just a few seconds of relief and familiar security, but even that was
fleeting. In a repeat of two nights ago, she almost expected someone to
come barrelling through the front door at any second, wielding a weapon of
some sort.
"That was Levi," her father announced as they entered
the kitchen. "He's on his way over..." He paused to look at Genevieve with
unabashed curiosity as she sat down at the dinette table, while her mother
put an ice pack together. "Genny, I seriously hope the other guy looks
worse."
"Your daughter barely missed being hit by a car, and
that's all you have to say?" Rebecca shot back, thankfully explaining the
situation so Gen didn't have to continue with her fabricated story.
"You sure it missed? That's one heck of a shiner."
Rebecca
muttered something under her breath and shook her head.
Leo walked
to Genevieve, gently took her chin in his hand and turned her head to the
side so he could better view her wounds. She began to fidget under his
gaze, fearful he perhaps knew something didn't add up.
"You okay,
Genny?" he asked, voice full of concern and telling her, joking aside, he
was troubled.
She forced another smile, this one somewhat genuine
because she truly didn't like him to worry.
"I'm fine, Dad."
He leaned in to hug her and planted a kiss on her forehead. "We'll
have to get you helmet just for when you're walking now if this is what
happens when you try to cross a street."
"You know, this wouldn't
be a problem if you'd just let me start driving," Gen suggested with a
smile.
"After seeing what kind of damage you do with just your
hundred and fifty pounds of all bones and hair? I think not—there's no way
I'm giving you a two ton box of steel to play around with. Didn't you make
it to your friend's house to work on the project?"
She was spared
having to scramble for answer for a few moments as her mother pushed her
father out of the way, and applied the ice pack to her face.
"I
messed up the time," Gen explained. Wow, all this lying is sure as
hell making me look like an idiot today—first I walk in front of a car,
then I forget the time I'm supposed to meet
someone. "She and her parents were about to leave for
somewhere—I was supposed to be there in the morning."
"You see why
you shouldn't be sleeping in all damn day?"
"Yes, Mom, I now
recognize the error in my ways—all of this would have been avoided if I
just got up earlier."
"If they were going somewhere, why didn't
they give you a ride home?"
Gen hoped she didn't look as startled
as she felt suddenly at her father calling attention to the hole in her
story. While it was impossible he knew what had actually happened to her, it wasn't a
far stretch to guess he knew she was lying. Normally that wasn't something
he would call her on—that was her mother's job—but this time she had been
physically harmed. He was relaxed on most things as far as parenting went,
unless it came down to her safety.
"Full car," Gen said quickly.
"The back was filled with some boxes and stuff going to a relative's house
and there wasn't room for me."
"Boxes?"
"They just moved
here," she replied, surprised at how easily the lies fell into place. "It
was stuff they sorted through, to give to some people."
"Next
time, how about you have her come here, and we'll make sure we give her a
ride home so she isn't hit by a car, okay?"
Gen nodded.
"Okay."
"So after all that you didn't get your project done?" her
mother asked, back to hyper-parental mode.
"Yeah Mom, I planned it
all so I wouldn't have to make a stupid Geography poster."
"Don't
get snippy with me."
The doorbell rang then, and Gen realized with
a sinking feeling that her father had said Levi was on his way over. While
she was glad to see him, she remembered they had been on the phone
together when she was attacked. She didn't know what he heard, but it
could completely blow her story so far.
"I'll get it," Gen
announced as she stood, but her mother put her hand on her shoulder and
sat her back down.
"Sit there and keep your cheek from swelling."
They all knew no one needed to get the door anyway; Levi had had
an open invitation to enter since he and Gen were eight. Moments after
ringing the bell, Levi stepped inside, kicked off his shoes, and went in
search of the home's occupants.
"Hey Mr. Weist," he called when he
spotted Leo in the kitchen doorway. "Is Gen home yet?"
"At the
table," Leo replied, stepping back so Levi could enter the room.
Her friend caught sight of her and his eyes grew wide.
Please don't let him say anything...
"What the hell happened—one minute you
were talking to me, then I heard a bang and voices and—"
"Apparently some car backed out and nearly hit her," Rebecca
answered before Gen could. "She tripped and smacked her head on the curb."
"I thought maybe it was that g—"
Conscious of her parents
watching, Gen tried to warn him with her eyes and the slight shake of her
head. Thankfully, he caught the gesture right away and scrambled to
correct himself.
"That maybe you were just hanging up on me.
Because...you didn't call me back earlier. That was mean of you. You're a
bad friend."
While lying through his teeth wasn't his forte,
neither of Gen's parents seemed to notice. Leo wandered back toward the
T.V. room while Rebecca checked once more on Gen's cheek, then went to
busy herself with obsessively dusting the downstairs hallway.
Still concerned they might be listening in, Gen stood and gestured
for Levi to follow. It wasn't until the two reached her room upstairs—with
the door closed—that either dared speak.
"Did that asshole come
after you again?" he said angrily and in a loud voice Gen hoped her mother
didn't hear.
"Shh! And no, of course not!"
"Then why were
you making the secret blinking code to keep me from mentioning him?"
"We have a secret blinking code?"
"Damn it, Genevieve—"
"Okay, okay." Time to stop stalling. "I just don't want Mom and
Dad worrying about that guy bugging me, so I didn't tell them, and I don't
want you to tell them either." At least not until I know for sure what's going
on...
"But you already did tell them—you were
complaining the other day about how they didn't believe you!"
"Yeah, well, I changed my mind."
"Gen—"
"Really, I
mean it. I haven't seen him hanging around at all, so you probably scared
him away for good. It's okay."
"If you say so," he said, taking a
seat on the rattan chair in the corner of her room.
Gen hopped on
her bed and discarded the ice pack to the wastebasket by her nightstand.
She glanced in the mirror to see her red, swollen cheek, and winced at the
sight. A nasty bruise was forming. Even if she wore makeup, there was no
way in hell she'd be covering that up.
"So, aren't you going to
ask me about my game?"
"I'm guessing you lost," she said.
Levi rolled his eyes. "Of course. That's not my news, though—guess
who showed up."
"Hopefully no talent scouts."
"Sage," he
revealed with a grin.
"Sure she did." What a liar.
"She did!"
"Hayden was able to
make it then?"
"Nope."
"You are not seriously sitting
there across from me, trying to tell me Sage Bethany, Queen Bitch—"
"Hey—"
"—who's been ignoring you for the past two years,
went to watch you lose your game, unaccompanied by Hayden or any other
friends she might possibly have in some alternate universe?"
"She
has friends...probably. She's a very deep and complex person."
"Sure she is."
"That's not half of it though. She left
right after the game, and I followed her. She jogged home through the
creek—"
"This story is making you sound like serial killer
material, you know."
"Just listen! I was going to leave, and then
there were these guys who followed and they tried to mug her!"
Gen
could only imagine how pale her face went, though Levi continued rambling
on about the exciting details of his story. Four men. Carrying weapons.
Intent on killing Sage...
"So she totally kicks their collective
ass! I mean, I've never seen anything like that! Hayden said she has like
all these martial arts classes and stuff but she never competes so I had
idea she was that serious, but it was like something out of a movie—it was
amazing!"
Each of you is different—there's the witch, the
warrior, and the seer...
"And then this alien flew down from
Earth's secret second moon and gave a pack of chipmunks abortions while
Kim Jong Il and me ate popcorn and watched."
"What?"
"Goddamn, I knew you weren't listening!"
"No, no, I was, I
promise."
"Well then, what do you think?" he asked, sitting
forward eagerly, probably waiting for her to leap up and be just as
excited with him.
I'm starting to think Michael might not be so
crazy...
"I think you fell and hit your head," she
replied instead of giving him her thoughts.
"Well, I think you
should give her a call and see about some self defense lessons sometime."
I think I need to call her about more than just
that.
© 2006 Skyla Dawn Cameron
Reader discretion advised.
At some point there will be sex, violence, coarse language, and mature themes (if there hasn't been already).
Not for readers under 18.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 License.
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