Shh... Run.

Week Three part 1 -- Determination & Theft

This is a shorter chapter, but things are getting closer to prologue scene, and I'm actually pretty excited to get to that part, it's been stewing in my head for ages! 

I hope you enjoy and Vote & Comment!

Chapter 5: Week Three part 1 -- Determination & Theft

“God I‘m just so angry! I put all my trust into some hick city-chick and guess what? Yeah, it blew up in my face!” I throw myself onto Carla’s bed and scrub at my eyes before throwing my hands in the air again.

“I felt humiliated!” Carla abandons her task of painting her nails and slaps her unpainted palm over my spewing mouth.

“Now as much as I want to know about your crusade, I need my concentration to paint my nails. Shush!” Peeking down at the bottle she’s balancing on her bent knee I scrunch my nose.

“Putrid Pink?” It’s a nasty, bubbly pink; I wouldn’t gloss my nails with it if they paid me.

“Ugh! No, it’s Candy Floss and it’ll go great with my new mini dress. Jamie’s gonna drool!” She kicks her drying toe nails, the charms on her silver ankle bracelet tinkling, but her knee jostles and the little bottle of Putrid Pink flees in the air, we both lunge to grab it before it hits the white carpet. Carla screeches a dramatic ‘No’, shoving me out the way so I end up tumbling to the ground, my legs still on the bed, but my head hits the floor with a smack, white dots dancing under my scrunched eye lids.

“Ouch!” I yell, hands reaching to rub the growing egg on my scalp. All I see is the bottom of Carla’s feet, waving in the air, grabbing hold of the silk pink duvet I heave myself up. Carla’s legs are held in the air as she wails, torso bent over the opposite side of her bed. I crawl up until I’m leaning over, beside her.

Lying on its side on her once pearly white carpet, the nail polish bottle spills the ugly pink paint, it’s spreading and soaking, like creeping pink veins. I realise we’re both just staring at it, so stick my hand out and tip it back on its side, wiping what got on my hands on the rough material of my jeans.

“It’s your fault.” Carla hisses, turning her head eerily slow, “you kept whining and yapping about poor you and your best friend Claire!” I reel back in surprise, backing up until I sit perched on the end of the bed, frowning in confusion.

Carla hops into a squat next to the stain, alternating between glaring at me and the soaked pink smudge. Right then Carla lives up to her name, she does look feral. Feral and predatory, like she’s warring with the idea of attacking me rabidly, I raise myself to stand on the other side of the bed from her, hands shaking surprisingly harsh.

“Don’t be insane Care-bear. It was an accident, we’re both at fault.” I’m lying, we’re not both at fault, she is, she’s the one that went freak-out and shook her leg.

“Oh really? That’s what you think?” She stalks me, walking around to my side with purpose, a sinister grin on her lips. I’ve never in all the years I’ve known Carla Feral, seen her look this abnormal, her usual perky, know-it-all attitude is overtaken by something darker.

She’s right up in my face now, my back stuck between the side-table and Carla. Tilting her head to the side she sneers.

And then I blink and it’s gone, Carla’s normal happy grin is back, blue eyes thawing to a calming ocean. “Why the fearful-look on your face? Lighten up, it’s just a bit of nail polish, I have they perfect rug that’ll sit there nicely. You did me a favour.” I stay frozen stiff as Carla turns away and gathers the tumbled nail-tools. Either, Carla is majorly unstable, the friend I’ve known for years. Or all this stress is going to my head, making my paranoid.

It’s the stress, gotta be the stress, I sooth myself. Staying for the littlest time possible, I hightail it out the Feral household and home, shivers still jerking me roughly.

***

The sun is just setting Saturday and I hulk my work bag over the side of the couch. Mom’s off with the kids this weekend at Aunt Agnes’s house, dads off on business as usual. To be honest, I think they just don’t want to be near me now. In fact I’ve overhead them discussing me since the incident. They said I was different, I’m not different. Of course not.

Just as I thunk myself in front of the TV the doorbell goes. My muscles seize in freight and pour icy fear down me, cooling me from the inside out.

I creep silently down the hall and peek through the peep-hole.

And there, striking me in great surprise is Claire, a hood shrouding her features, but there she is, face all pulled in nervousness.

I whip the door open, mouth gaping. “What the hell are you doing here?!” I hiss accusingly, ushering her in anyway, I look out to see if she was seen coming in, nothing but nightfall.

She walks into the hall and lowers her hood. “I grew a conscience okay? I will not have your blood on my hands when you mess this up by sticking your nose into business you can’t handle.” If I wasn’t so socked I’d be offended so I walk her through to my kitchen.

“How the hell did you know where to find me? That’s pretty creepy.” I run the cold tap and fill a crystal glass, pushing it towards my guest and sitting opposite her at our island.

She takes a huge gulp and fiddles with the sleeve of her parka. “It was easy, not many Sydney Davis’s, plus I have connections. My roommate’s boyfriends pretty sweet with computers.” Rearing my head back I look at the wonder before me.

“That is creepy. You’re like an evil genius.” Claire chuckles breathlessly and asks to take her jacket off. Pulling a backpack around, she unzips it and empties the array of papers on the marble island.

 “What the hell are these?!” I exclaim, skimming my eyes over the formal documents. A police department stamp on the top forces me to let the papers go like they’re on fire. “Are you kidding me? You stole from the police? Oh God, we’re both going to jail. This was a horrible idea!”

“I didn’t steal! They’re just copies. I simply borrowed them. Nobody has to know, we’ll burn them when we’re down.” She shrugs nonchalantly.

“Yeah, yeah. Easy-peasy, in and out. We’ll not get done for theft, but theft from a national authority! Oh, whatever, it’s a day-to-day thing. I do it all the time!” I rant, head in my rapidly sweating palms.

“Would you shut up?! Are your parents due home?” She’s leaning over the island, eyes set in determination. She’s really serious. I find it in me to pull some sort of vague copy of her determination, feeding off her faith.

“They won’t be home until Monday at the earliest. Let’s do this.”

“Okay. Now if we do this, I want no recognition. If we do catch it, then I had nothing to do with it ‘kay? I just want to do this and go back to my corner of the library.” I frown in confusion before nodding absently and watching her arrange the papers into stacks.

“Okay, so I’ve had myself a little look already and according to these, there isn’t really much to go on. But they have been holding out on us. I think we may have the tiniest flying chance at catching them.” I cocky smirk tugged at her, one dimpling winking before she smooth’s out her expression, back to blank determination.

“What! What have they held back?” She slides one stack over to me.

“Read and find out.”