As Easy As Murder

2- heaven is a food court

As soon as Loretta came into view, picked up my bag and stormed right past her, determined to get out of the gloomy gates of Hot Topic, where I had just met my new least favorite person.

"Wait, before you go, I wanted to ask if you wanted to hang at Jesse's place later? We'll all be there." 

"Yeah, whatever." I mutter, my mind in other places, to occupied to think about the invitation. 

I rounded the corner, the crowd making it's way into my vision, teenage girls pouring over new perfume scents like liquid gold and boys standing around talking about their latest pretty accomplishments. 

I walk through the seemingly endless line of stores, headed for the food court. The usual salespeople can tell by my expression that I am in no mood to buy their 'luxury soap'. I stop for a second, thinking I saw my ex, but no, just some guy with the same haircut. I continue walking, automatically erasing the memory of the bastard. 

It's over now, Averen. I repeat in my head as I come up on the food court, scents of various delectables filling my nostrils. 

My eyes wander over the variety of choices, even though it's not much of a variety when It's the same variety you've been picking from since 17. I settle for the Tom Whals, ordering a burger and a lemonade. I lean against the pole next to the counter, staring down at my feet. 

My phone vibrates, telling me I have a call, but I make no effort to answer. 

My food is slid towards me on the counter, and I pick it up, noticing one of my acrylics is chipped. Spectacular. 

I carry my tray to one of the tables, the uncomfortable ones with the holes that resemble a shopping cart. I sit down, crossing my legs. My phone buzzes again, but I opt to let it ring again, deciding that if they call a third time, then it's important enought to lift my arm for. I unwrap the gleaming heaven of my burger, complete with bun that is too small. I take a bit, chewing it with no enthusiam. 

Sure enough, the caller has decided I can not enjoy my lunch break solitude and (and recovery from being verbally harassed) in peace. I reach back and remove my phone from my pocket, turning it over and seeing that the persistent caller is my mother. I press accept, knowing that If I don't she will immedialy assume I've been assasinated. I'll tell you what, I do want to assasinate someone at the moment. 

"Av, are you okay? What took so long for you to answer? I know you're on lunch break." The familiar panicky voice chirps from my phone, my Mom's face appearing on the caller id photo, the photo of us at the state fair with ice cream all over us (long story). 

"I'm fine," I croak, voice coming out muffled by the half-chewed chunk of burger. 
"Okay, well, I'm just calling to let you know that your college orientation got moved up a week to this Friday." 

I want to mash my head into the holey table and just die. I have been dreading this orientation, and now my week of sulking about it has been revoked. I no longer have a window of freedom before I subject myself to the constraints of Criminal Justice. I sigh, and look around at the mall. Beats this place, I guess. 

"Why?" I groan, and she meets my response with a chuckle. I can hear our cat, Bucky, meowing sat her in the background.

"Scheduling issues, I guess. You'll be fine. You're so much more social then I was at your age," She remarks. It's true. Mom was a homebody back in the day, opting for a nice coffee table book instead of a crowd of rowdy teens, and I can't blame her. It took a lot of work for me to become the social butterfly I am today. In middle school, I would've voluntarily went into solitary confinement. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hey, do you think I could go alone? Get a feel for it without your commentary?" 

"You want to go alone?" She seems surprised. Yes, I do, and here's why. I know that she will comment on things, ask unnecessary questions, worry, worry, worry. I love my mom as much as I love breathing, but God is she a worry wart. I mean, she'd see a water foutain and ask if it's 10,000 percent filtered water from the glaciers of Iceland. I know parents usually come to college orientations, but I feel like would do her better not to come. You can't worry about what you don't know. 

"Yeah, you mind?" I ask, chowing down on the last of my burger. She's quiet for a second, thinking about it. And I know she's not comfortable with the idea. She'd like to see where her innocent little (extremely gothic) baby is going to be for the next years of her adult life. 

"I..guess not? Just..um...I'll still get to help you move in, right?" 
"Of course." 
"Okay, then I guess it's okay. Just, give me the rundown, alright Avvy?" 
"Alright." 
"Love you, sunshine." 
"You too."

I hang up, and look up at the huge clock on the wall above the burger king, and see that it's about the end of  my 20 minute freedom. I stand up, walking over to the trashcan to throw out my food. I push it in, and head back to the dark tomb of my paycheck parlor. I position myself back into my register habitat, Loretta slouched on the floor behind it, fiddling with the safety pin she has used to keep her life support convers together, don't ask me how. 

The rest of the shift passed, and for some reason, the idea of the billgerent geek who interfered with my peace is stuck in my head. I've just got this feeling that it isn't over. Let's hope my premenitions are inacurate because if I see him again my foot may accidenlty give his ass a handshake. 

Me and Loretta make our way to the mall exit, her eyeliner running down her cheeks, which she said she did on purpose so maybe Kandi would think she had been crying and send her home. Didn't work. We got outside and walked to our respective cars. 

"See you later at Jesse's. Bring those thingiemabobs you make." 
"Huh?" 
"The...the things...y'now?" 
"The rumballs?" 
"yeah, yeah those." 
"Got it, cya looney." 
"Cya, wicked bitch of the West." 

I get into the car, driving home. I play some upbeat music, and it immediately lifts my mood from the dump that jerk of earlier had it in. I pull into the driveway of my house. The house that I will soonly be leaving to throw myself into the swing of always being out and about, and when I'm not, learning about the light and airy subject of crime and incarceration. 

I twist my key in the door, palm scraping against the chipping paint of the doorknob. The door squeaks open, revealing my cat, who I have recurring pang of guilt for about leaving. Those big eyes, oh god those big eyes. 

Mom isn't home, since she had an endocrinologist appointment. I sit down on my favorite chair, and then remember I have been giving the grueling task of preparing my Grandma's rumball recipe and then having to be in the prescense of my clown car of friends. I groan, do a little stomp of anger, and take my butt to the kitchen. 

Once I've preparing this truly challenging dish, (I'm not a cooking prodigy) I put my creations into a tupperware container, apologizing to them of the fate they will soon meet, Jesse's stomach. Once he starts on the rumballs, he in unable to stop. If he was on death row, his last meal would be 200 rumballs. 

I get a text from Janey, another member of the stupidity squad, telling me that Jesse is claiming to be going into rumball deprivation and to quote, 'get over here before she shaves her head'. Very odd threat, but it works. Janey's hair is equivalent to that of Goldilocks, and should be preserved. 

I place my babies in the passenger seat of my Volkswagen, shoot my mom a quick going out text, and start towards Jeese's condominium, which he bought with money from 'totally not a sugar daddy'. Very convincing argument. 

I pull into a parking spot and pick up my delicious little fabrications, walking to the front doors of the condo. Unfortunatly for me, I fell victim to Loretta's prankster ways, which she has possessed since early childhood. She jumps out from behind a shrub and I nearly suffer a heart attack, the life of my rumballs flashing before my eyes as I almost drop them. 

I give her a glare, "Seriously? You're not getting any of these now." I say, looking down at her as she rolls around on the ground, sobbing from laughing so hard. 

"No, no please." She gets on her knees. "I apologize for my sins, thy almighty rumball maker." 

How did I get stuck with this person as a best friend? 

I roll my eyes, and remember I am equally as weird and mentally questionable as the green-haired goblin before me, "You are forgiven my child. But you must carry the sacred nourishment up thy stair," I gesture to the stairs up to Jesse's condo. 

"My honor." She laughs and takes the tupperware out of my hand. 

We walk up to meet the circus of humans we have found ourself a part of in the past years, the walls of Jesse's condo lines with various posters, one of Albert Einstein for whatever reason. They are all gathered on Jesse's bed, with Jesse in the middle telling the eager 4 listeners about the worst date of his life. 

"Hey Jess," I say, walking in and kicking the door closed behind me. 

"Eyyy, Averen." Bishop, another member of the Incompetence clan, stands up and approaches us. She's opted for a shirt that says 'obey yourself', fishnets, knee-high stompers, a spiked choker, and half-up-half-down pigatils, which she recently dyed a dishwater blonde. 

I greet the other 3, Janey, Vicky, and Vera. 

We all sit down on Jesse's floor, the rumballs in the middle. 

"Ahren, wah had yah so mah earlier?" (What had you so mad earlier) Loretta sayd, mouth packed with my elite rations. 

So, I stard about the newfound worst person on earth, my voice getting angrier and angrier as I continue. 

By the time I'm done, everyone Is just looking at me. 

"..so that's definitly your future husband." Vicky Squeaks, followed by a squeal. Easily the most excitable of the group, Vicky dresses like a rainbow unicorn forest fire with neon eyeshadow, colors fading into more colors, fading into into patterns, glitter littered over neon yellow eyelids, earring so dangly they touch her shoulders, extravagence is her middle name. 

"What?" 

Everyone starts about how I definitly just found the love of my life. Even Jesse, who is usually logical, is gushing. 

Oh for the love of God. 

My phone chimes, and I unlock it to see a text from my Dad. 

"Hey Averen, I am just letting you know that you almost started a fire leaving the stove on. Good job." 

Please someone take my side for once. 

I'm looking at you, universe.