The Tricksters, Johannah Moloney [speed reading book .TXT] 📗

A ring sounded at the door, and I quickly sprang up to open it. Leslie stepped in, and then threw her arms around my neck, her bag falling to the floor. We giggled, and sprinted up the stairs to my room. Already the latest chick-flick reality TV show was on; the big cursive letters on the screen a bright cherry. We didn’t waste time digging into the popcorn.
The Crimson Diaries was a show about a young teenage girl named Rosette getting stuck between a werewolf and a vampire, and being a prophet of a legendary fable who was said to break the curse on vampires so they would be able to walk in daylight. She lived on werewolf territory, and the vampires would have to break the treaty they had set a hundred years ago to use her for their own desires. But the werewolf leader wouldn’t let them, and the vampire’s, Vince’s, brothers killed him, so now the werewolf, Daniel, is the new alpha. And then both Vince and Daniel have to team up to stop the vampire coven from taking her away, even though they hate each other. Within the first fifteen minutes, Leslie and I were in deep dispute.
“No, he should ship her off to Canada where they can’t find her,” I argued.
“But what if they follow him? She would be screwed then. It’s not like she can do anything to them biting her neck off.” She explained.
“They’re not going to bite her neck off. They need her for the prophecy, remember? If they bite her neck off she would be dead and they would have to wait another thousand years.”
“Whatever. She should still be with Daniel. He’s way better for her.”
“You just like his abs.”
“You just like Vince’s ‘priorities’. You’re always a sucker for possessive.”
“‘Protective’. I mean, who wouldn’t want someone in shining armor come to rescue you?”
“I thought you didn’t believe in fairytales.” She smirked.
“I don’t.” I snapped. She threw a piece of popcorn at me, to be deflected by my pillow. It quickly turned into a match on who can knock the other off the bed. I won.
We fell asleep sprawled across the covers, the TV still flickering commercials. When we woke up, I could hear the shower running, meaning my dad was already awake. We discovered that my kitten I got for my eighteenth birthday had placed itself directly under our legs, and when we moved, we squealed when a loud dawned out siren sounded from under the blankets. Once it began moving, we yelped and jumped out of the bed. Only after it poked its snow white head out did we burst out laughing.
The smell of coffee and pancakes drifted to us in the living room. When we walked in, flat golden brown flakes were stacked high on two separate plates, and tall glasses of orange juice sat next to them. Mom was standing over the sink, scrubbing furiously at a stubborn pot.
“Its okay mom, I’ll do it.” I said.
“No, no, I got this one.” She smiled serenely, though I could see she was getting impatient. Leslie was already plowing in, but I sighed and took the pot from her. She sighed too, and whispered under her breath before hustling into the living room. I polished the pot feverishly.
“So, where do you want to go first?” Leslie asked from the table.
“I don’t know, maybe Beverly’s Wardrobe.” I said. This weekend was our monthly shopping spree, where every month we spent an entire weekend spending every penny we could find on the street on anything in the stores. Every time we went to the photo booth outside the mall afterwards, and took a picture wearing our favorite pick. It became a tradition in the fifth grade.
Leslie moaned. “Then we can go crocheting and give the kids down the street cookies.”
“Oh, come on. They’re not that bad.” I said. Leslie sighed and I rolled my eyes at her. “So where do you want to go?” I knew that was what she wanted to here. Her eyes lit up. “What about Lil’ Lily’s?” She said.
“That’s fine. I like their sweaters.” Leslie clapped excitedly, not noticing my fake smile. I sat down next to her, and stuffed my face with pancakes. When we finished, we walked upstairs, discussing what to get.
We showered separately. Leslie and I were like sisters, but we weren’t the kind of girls that think it’s perfectly normal to shower together. We would get dressed in the same room, sure, but there was no ‘places you can’t reach’ there.
Leslie walked out of the bathroom, drying herself off. I quickly felt the need to cover up, but felt stupid for it. Leslie was what you call the ‘head cheerleader’ and otherwise known as the most favored by guys. And there was a reason for it; she was good-looking. She had snow white hair that fell perfect every time. Her eyes were an ice lightning blue, and her skin was always just right; light tan in the summer, ivory in the winter. She was taller than most girls, and could walk down a mountain in heels. The most dangerous part though was that she used all of it, down to the last pinch of glitter.
I was her backdrop. I wouldn’t consider myself ugly, more like cute, but average. I am medium height, and I have light skin tone, year round. My hair is dark, almost as wet bark. My eyes are hazel, though are more green than gold. I don’t wear a lot of makeup; mostly just mascara when I’m not rushing. Some curves, but not all. Standing next to Leslie, I could have as well been a postage stamp.
Leslie didn’t waste time shifting through my closet, every now and then muttering something about bad taste. Eventually she came to the conclusion of me wearing a dark purple tube shirt with white shorties and sandals.
We quickly got dressed, me tying my hair up, and Leslie forcefully applying extra framework to my face. We jumped into Leslie’s red bug and began the long drive to Lil’ Lily’s.
Lil’ Lily’s was the last spot you would find me. It was where everyone went; full of flashy t-shirts, underwear-like shorts, and prices that would last me five minutes. Its theme was fruity, and the workers always pointed out the most expensive items. It was not in my league.
Leslie began trying on clothes, all of which looked faultless. I wandered next to the graphic tees, admiring one of which that had a picture of a giraffe with glasses on. When I showed Leslie, she shook her head.
I was making my way to the purses when I noticed something. I glanced out the window. I haven’t noticed it before, but whenever I turned a corner, it was there. His back was turned, and I could see gold curls coming out of his hat. I could just barely make out his jawline, where it was set determinedly, like he was waiting for something. As soon as I looked at him, something set itself off in me. It was subtle, but I felt it navigate towards him. As soon as I figured it out, I knew it was warning me.
I hastily found Leslie. She turned when I came, about to say something, when she stopped and stared. “What?” I said, a little thrown off.
“Nothing-nothing,” she stuttered. “Its just- your eyes.” I sighed and dismissed her comment. “Leslie, I think we’re being followed. There’s this guy that keeps being wherever I look-“
“Ooh, you got an admirer.” She smiled teasingly. I glared and whispered urgently, “Leslie, I’m serious. I think he’s been following us the whole time.”
She scoffed at me. “You’re so paranoid. I guess spending so much time with me finally rubbed off on you. But if it means so much, we’ll go. I just have to get this first.” She held up a scarf and bustled over to the counter.
I waited in the car. I searched for him, but he was out of sight. Maybe I really am paranoid, maybe he was just waiting for his girlfriend. He looks like the kind of guy to have one.
Leslie walked out of the store, a pink paper bag in hand. We drove around until we finally did end up in Beverly’s Wardrobe. Leslie stalked around the store, glaring at knits hanging in the isles. “Okay, you pick next.” I said, pitying her misery. She sighed heavily, and followed me around in the shop.
I picked out two tops and a brass locket. Leslie argued about getting it, but something about the intricate swirls lured me. We were walking out of the store when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. As soon as I saw it, I went into a dead sprint.
“Lorelei! Lore, wait! Where are you going? Lore!” Leslie ran behind, and jumped in the car after me. When I was positive the doors where locked, I explained in a panicked voice. “I saw him again. He’s right there! Les, he’s following us!” I pointed at him, who was covered half way by the corner. She followed my finger and said, “Oh, he’s cute.”
“Leslie!”
“What? You won’t admit it. Plus, it’s probably someone that just looks like him. I doubt he really is a stalker. He can have me anytime.” She smiled at her own joke. I turned and studied him again. It wasn’t like wearing hats in the summertime is rare.
“Ok, your said my choice. Donnie Dot it is.” Leslie grinned.
The next half hour I spent in hyper-active mode. Was that him over there? No, he wasn’t wearing green. Who was that? Oh, just a manikin. I tried my best to focus on the clothes, but it was taking a toll. Leslie picked out two sweaters and three pairs of pants for me, and two high heels for her. As the day went on, I felt my muscles relax. But I still felt like I was being watched, that little feeling inside me leading me around in circles. I got to the point of ignoring it. I was moving through more shorts when I saw a plaid hat. It was white and brown, with two little initials on the back. DM. When I looked to see who was wearing it, it was all I could not to scream.
I dashed to Leslie, and almost shrieked in her ear when I said, “He’s here! He’s here! Oh my god, Leslie, HE’S HERE!”
She glanced around frantically at the other customers who were looking at us, and when I pointed at the back of his head, her face contorted in horror. “Lore, I’m so sorry. I didn’t believe you. I thought it was just from the TV show- we gotta go.” She grabbed my hand and dropped what she was looking at. We sped home.
That night we spent with every possible door locked, window shut, and lights on. We whispered hushed secrets and revisited the stalker over and over. Leslie stopped making comments on his looks.
When we fell asleep, the only thing I saw were those initials. I saw them written on the walls, scratched into the tables, and burned into my skin. I saw them drawn into the mirrors with black ink, saw them in the water as it rushed down the drain, and I saw them stitched into the blankets, like everything I touched was owned by him. And I saw my eyes. Not an edge of green was in them. It was all gold.
I woke up to the sound of scratching.