The Prophecy

Chapter 2

"Ah, Miss Smith, you're late...where is your not so trusty sideki-"
"Bonjour miss"
"Emma, never a disappointment."
Mrs. Brown looked more disappointed than ever, it was no secret that she resented Emma and I's friendship; as did everyone. For some it was the fact that Emma was clearly a bad influence on my academic life, and my social one - she often tried to force me to succumb to drinking alcohol and smoking. Of course, I always rejected her feeble attempts to try and coerse me to the dark side. Some, however only detested the fact that Emma was so perfect and I was so, well...not perfect. Although nobody ever directly came out and said it, I always knew that they thought Emma was too good to be friends with such a commoner. I had always been extremely intuitive, sometimes it was gift, but most of the time it was a dreadful curse. Imagine, knowing how someone feels about you, before they do, imagine knowing what someone thinks about you (especially if it was bad). Sometimes it was a heavy burden to carry.
"Ooh la la" Gary Trench interposed my train of thought, he wore a recognisably snooty facial expression, as if that was indeed his intention.
"Ew, Gary. I'm saving myself for Drake Martin you pig."
"Oh, ya the same Drake Martin who called you a psycho this morning in registration because you won't leave him alone." Sneered Gary.
"Stop trying to ruin a good relationship with lies, Gary. I know he wouldn't say that!" Emma seemed somewhat distressed now, and the look in her eyes said that she knew for a fine fact that Drake had infact, said it. Her eyes looked so sad, so dull, as if she wasn't even surprised that he had degraded her in such a way. Emma was never enigmatic, but somehow this time I had no clue what she was thinking. She slowly went into her 'rouge rage' bag by Wilma Turner (her favourite designer), it was very hard to get a word out of Emma that wasn't the words; 'bag' 'Wilma' or 'designer'. Personally, I've never seen the big deal with bags, they're just made to carry things, aren't they? But then again, I never really had much growing up, so I was never raised to be materialistic, to crave something that everyone else has. My mother, although loving, didn't have the best of lives, or the best of jobs for that matter; she was a shop assistant in our local poundworld store in the town centre. It was a small town, Wormwood, and not with a very good name either! The very name 'Wormwood' echooed poverty to the rest of the world, perhaps that's why the population was so small. All this thinking was making me extremely tired, I began to drift off...
"Wendy? Wendy are you OK?" I thought this familiar voice to be my pushy best friend trying to wake me up, but no it was a boy's voice this time. I looked up to see a dark figure, cradling me, short black hair, mildly tanned, deep brown eyes. It was him. I was back in my dream, although somehow it felt different, more realistic.
"Sorry...I must have passed out for a second there." I said, wondering why I had such control over my words and actions, because after all this was a dream, wasn't it? I looked around the same place I was transported every night in my dreams, a bar. I looked around the bar for some clue as to where I was, I seen a sign that read "The Conical Hat", what a strange name for a bar I thought. Well, it was created in my own mind so what was I expecting?
I rose out of my seat to get drinks for me and my mysterious friend, "What's your poison?" I said jokingly to the mysterious dream figure.
"Ah, Wendy you know me. An old dog can't learn new tricks."
A waitress walked by us wearing the most peculiar uniform, she wore a black and white pinnifer, an apron and a conical hat.
"Excuse me, miss?" The mysterious gentleman stopped her in her tracks.
"What'll you be having, sir?" she said.
"Two Honeycomb Holidays please, miss."
Then the most curious thing happened, instead of writing this order down (which was a most conspicuous order on it's own), a quill began scribbling down an order on the Waitress's notepad...on it's own. "Oh great." I thought, "now I'm having supernatural dreams, wait until my mother hears of this. She will be furious".
"Sorry, what's your name again?" I interupted the stranger as he began to guzzle down his 'honeycomb holiday'. He looked at me as if I had hurt him in some way, as if I, by saying I couldn't remember his name, had inadvertently caused him physical pain.
"Why, it's Miles...Wendy we've been hanging out here for 4 weeks now I wasn't expecting a marriage proposal but I thought you'd at least remember my name." He said jokingly, although I could see that I had caused him a great deal of pain by asking that. Truth is, my dreams were always a little hazy when I woke up, usually I can only remember him. But somehow, I didn't want to tell him I was dreaming, a part of my conscience didn't want to cause the poor boy anymore pain. Even, if I did make him up in my head.
"Sorry, Miles. I'm just having a bad day today." I said, hoping that he was buying it.
"That's OK, Wendy. Tell me what happened babe."
'Babe'? He stuck a straw in his drink and started sucking on it, looking at me whilst he done it, waiting for a reply, he said it so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. So in my dreams, I had a boyfriend. Great.
"Yeah, nothing really. Just school and stuff, will you excuse me? I need to go to the ladies room." I interposed, he looked at me with a look of quiet disbelief, as if I were plotting an escape.
"Yes, I'll be here when you get back babe."
"OK."
I started to the bathroom, and accidentally bumped into a lady, if you could call her that. She was extremely tall and even more muscly, that if she had perhaps been facing the other way, I probably would have called her 'sir' instead of 'ma'am'.
"Watch where you're going will you!?"
She looked angry now, I didn't know what to do other than apologise.
"I'm sorry ma'am!"
"Ma'am?"
The woman looked even angrier now, she turned around as if she were thinking of hurting me, then swung a great mighty fist round and punched me in the face. My nose was bleeding immensely, I was in so much pain. I started crying, then suddenly I woke up in French class.
"Miss. Smith? Why is your nose bleeding?" asked Mrs Brown, she looked rather panicked. I touched my nose and it was in agonising pain. I looked down at my hands to see blood all over them. I said nothing. I ran out of the classroom down into the corridor, I went to the bathroom. My face was bruised, but how can that be? It was a dream.
I grabbed by shabby bag and ran home, I only lived a few streets away. I bolted up the stairs and into my room. I buried my head in my quilt and begged to never sleep again, I probably would have fallen asleep if it weren't for the fear of being taken back to that dreadful bar, with those dreadful people. My thoughts were interupted by the doorbell ringing intensely.
"Wendy! It's for you!" my mother screamed. Almost as if she had rung the doorbell herself to try coerse me out of my room. As I began to walk down the stairs, I started to wonder who it possibly could have been. It wasn't Emma, there was no way she'd be able to make it to my house this quickly, it may have been a school representative who was worried of by wellbeing and whereabouts. No. I Couldn't believe my very eyes.
"I just came to check that you were OK."
It was him.