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prologue

PROLOGUE §

"Omnitrix, omnitrix," I chant in a whisper, eyes raking the toy store's shelves. I’m breathless, my hair askew and cheeks buzzing. Irritated. I’m bloody late already, which I am painfully conscious of, because my flight from Ireland to Wolverhampton wasn’t exactly as smooth as the weatherman had foretold. It was delayed for two hours. Two freaking hours!

But I can’t come to Greg’s without a gift for little Theo. The gift. The kid has been babbling on and on and on over the phone about how much he’s always wanted to have the Benten Omnitrix Touch  V2, and his birthday is the perfect event for me to buy him one especially after not seeing him for eight months straight.

I’ve been wracking Mullingar's every corner for one, just one piece, but I couldn’t find any. Not even on an on-line shop where they can deliver it straight to my home. So I decided maybe I should just buy one here in Wolverhampton where hopefully they have one stacked somewhere.

So right after I had landed I hailed the nearest taxi and ended up here.

I don’t know how long I’ve been weaving through this store, dragging my suitcase behind me and trying to eliminate the anxiety bubbling in my lungs, although every ticking second wracks my guts and curls my toes inside the sneakers I’m wearing which is a little damp with rain.

Another second.

And I just lose it.

I cuss thickly, though in a whisper, cursing at the rain. At the damn puddle of wetness that has seeped through my socks. At my ridulously rusty suitcase that I first brought to my brother's wedding here in Wolverhampton some 3 years ago. At the stupid weatherman—

Oh.

I stop in my tracks and stare at the Omnitrix sitting alone in between the gap of Benten Omnitrix (Version 1) and Benten Aliens action figures at the very end of the shelf. I grin, my insides unknotting as I walk up to it. Just as my fingers curl around the toy, another hand tightens around it so our skin are ghosting near each other’s, and I quickly clutch the watch to my side. The hand stops me though.

“Hey,” we say in unison, and I continue. “I had this first, get your own!”

“No,” the voice, deep and masculine, says from the other side of the shelf. I don’t see him because of all the Benten toys separating us, but I feel the need to whack him in the head. “I need this.”

“Well, I need it too!” I’m growling. I didn’t stress myself and dirtied my newly both sneakers for nothing. I fasten my grip so my nails are digging into the plastic-front confinement. “Come on, I’m freaking late! Let up already!” Letting go of my luggage, I use my other hand for greater leverage, gritting my teeth. 

He’s undeniably stronger than me though, his fingers much longer, so he easily peels off my fingers and the watch disappears into the other side.

Frustration implodes in my chest.

I yell a line of cusses, some Gaelic and French while the rest stark English, so loud the girl behind the counter looks at me, eyes wide. The boy—I’m guessing he’s older than 15—on the other side freezes as well.

When I’m finished, heaving and cheeks puffed, he says, “Come to think of it, that was magnificently eloquent.” There’s a smirk in his voice.

I curse at him and grab my luggage, not even bothering to aplogize to the clerk as I storm outside. Lungs ablaze, I stand under the awning of a tea shop just beside the toy store, slivers of rain spattering the bottom of my jeans as  they pelt into the pavement. I’m just going to have to think of a new toy to give Theo. Not today though, because I don’t want to enter that store again. Not after I’ve set off a tantrum there.