The Magpie Effect - The Magpie Chronicles Book 1 (#Wattys2015)

Chapter 17.1

Despite my sometimes hermit-like habits, loneliness wasn’t something I aspired for. Sure, I liked my own company, but that didn’t mean it was the only company I regarded with any value. It was like everybody drained my battery after a while until I slowed to a languid trudge, while there were precious few people who actually fed my energy, or understood that sometimes I needed space to recuperate.

But being cut-off from those people who did understand was like being cut-off from a power source. At least when people exhausted you, it would come back eventually. Being without that person was like permanently disabling your supply.

That was how I felt the next day as I wandered from class to class completely Debbie-less.  I could barely put one foot in front of the other.

She avoided me the whole day, teetering down the corridor with Wesley Adams in tow, whose face had suddenly taken on a rather rosy glow. If I tried to speak to her, she either ignored me or snapped her fingers at Wes, who would turn to me, his eyes brimming with regret, and repeat the words, “Debbie does not currently wish to make your acquaintance.  Please try again at a later date.”

“But I’m your best friend, Debbie,” I said, and then Wes turned back to her, his bespectacled eyes desperate and imploring. Clearly, they hadn’t rehearsed any outcome other than my immediate acceptance of the situation and subsequent departure of the scene without any reluctance.

Debbie considered, and then whispered something in Wesley’s ear. He bit his lip as he listened, and then stared at her pleadingly when she was done. Debbie gave him a final, assertive nod. 

“Queen Deborah Pruitt the First decrees that-”

Debbie shoved him in the ribs. “Stop improvising and get on with it,” she hissed.

Wes cleared his throat before continuing. “Debbie decrees that the position of her Best Friend was carelessly abandoned last night, and that she is currently searching for an appropriate replacement who has her best interests at heart.”

My blood was beginning to boil. “Well, you can tell Queen Debbie that-”

Wes raised a hand, cutting me off. “Ok, stop.”

Debbie blinked at him. “What did you just say? I didn’t issue such a command. Do you dare to oppose your Queen?”

“Well, I didn’t sign up for this. You two are such good friends and I don’t want to be the poor scribe carrying ill-messages between you both. If you want to solve this, you’re going to have to solve it between yourselves,” Wes said, and then he made to stalk off down the corridor. “I’m out.”

Debbie stared after him, aghast. “Return to your post at once, slave boy!  I’m not amused!”

Wes, who was already halfway down the corridor, stopped and turned on his heels.  “How did you know I was into role-play, babe? Call me later, when you’ve sorted out all this crap,” he called, and then he dissolved into the crowd.

We stood there for what seemed like forever in mutual dumbfounded silence. My teeth were practically grinded down to stubs by the time Debbie spoke up. 

“This isn’t over,” she said, her voice oozing venom. “I’m still mad at you.”

“That’s because you’re stupid,” I spat back. 

Debbie’s eyes widened in astonishment, as though I’d reeled off a sophisticated retort that was heavy on the vocabulary and wit. We were both being such children, I knew that, but it didn’t make me want to stop. It was like holding a naked flame to petrol.

“You know, I can’t believe I never noticed how self-absorbed you are,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

I pretended to inspect my nails, looked up warily, and then lifted a hand to my ear. “Oh, I’m sorry, did you just say something? I was too busy debating what colour to paint my nails next. I was thinking seashell pink.”