Impish

CHAPTER 1: THE HEAT

The sky over the tops of the buildings is turning dark with the purples of a sunset's end. I am walking down the street, in step with my best friend, trying to make it back to my car.

It was easy to get lost in the push and pull of the crowd we were in, but now we are free. The serenity of a puddle-covered sidewalk at night has never been more apparent or more freeing. Now that I have elbowed my way out of the ampetheater's gates, dragging Roux alongside me, I should be able to appreciate it for all it's worth. Keyword: should.

For some reason, I can't. My head is pounding and I feel like I'm on fire. I thought it was just the movie giving me some sort of noise-induced headache, but it would seem that's not the case. I want to believe it was some sort of overstimulation from being around so many sweaty people for three-or-so hours, but I know that's not true. Whatever is happening to me started about ten minutes into the second movie at the double-feature. It was just after we got back from the concession stand.

We have to get back to my house before midnight. It's a house rule that I still have to follow. I'm still not used to being eighteen, so I'm not about to object. Mom likes to go to bed by midnight, and she worries about me. Knowing I'm safe alleviates some of that. Of all the rules I don't understand, I'm willing to obey this one.

Roux is in step with me. They're babbling about the movie we just watched, even though I was also there, watching the same goddamn movie. They're excitable about things like that-- about monsters, about the supernatural, about the things that live under our beds and feast on fear and brimstone.

I don't mind. All my thoughts about them are nothing but affectionate. Even if they weren't, I would still listen while being distracted by all the vibrant colors of the world around me. The sky is mottled with oranges and pinks between the dark gray clouds and the anger of the dying sun. As we walk toward my beat-up old Ford Focus, Roux talks and I skim the information they hand me. It's mostly something to do with the sexism inherent in some of the tropes so common to 1950s movies. I'm inclined to agree with Roux, but I'm a little distracted by something I can't put my finger on.

Something is out of place. My skin is a little too warm and the sky is a little too red. No, my skin isn't just warm. It's almost like parts of it are burning under my shirt. I pull it away from my skin, but it doesn't help.

I don't understand what's making me feel so odd right now. I don't think I'm sick or anything like that. It's more like there's a general sense of malaise infecting me. I don't know whether I'm uncomfortable or on the verge of frustrated tears.

What I do know is that my shoe is untied and my jacket is bothering me. The peach-colored lace of my right boot keeps getting caught under my foot as I walk. I pause in the middle of the sidewalk and don't wait for Roux to notice that I'm not walking next to them anymore.

They do, though. Roux always does. They turn pretty easily in their own worn-out knock-off Converse and look down at me. Most of their face is obscured by the dark shadows the hood of their Classic Monsters-themed sweatshirt is casting, but I understand their expression perfectly. "You need to get better laces or something."

"Yeah, maybe. Laces cost money, though."

"You have money," they point out, and they're right. I do. It's not Roux's fault that I quit my job at Little Caesars after I witnessed my manager acting pretty uncouth (read: sexually) toward one of the (minor) employees at his establishment. It's not Roux's fault that I still can't get a job weeks after that happened.

"I'm saving it." When I say that, I'm also right, and they know that. I have to be able to buy groceries when I move into my dorm. These little ventures of ours aren't free, either. Luckily, I was able to get a full-ride scholarship at one of the in-state colleges, but the meal plan doesn't exactly cover the weekends. I need cash for gas, textbooks, the safety deposit on my dorm room, and so many other things. There isn't room for more convenient boot laces in my budget.