The Contract

XII - Thirl

-

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, put off and disappointed. I heard a honk of a horn in my driveway and instantly knew Amanda was here. Hastily, I took down my attempt at a chic hairstyle and threw on a hoodie, then trotted my way down the stairs. Yelling a good-bye to my mom, I left the house and jogged over to Amanda's junk car. I saw a few extra heads in the car and came to the quick conclusion that Amanda and I were accompanied by Tommy and. . . Matt.

I slid into the passengers seat in the car, casting an unimpressed glance at the two boys in the back, who were oddly silent. I expected them to be whooping and yelling and being annoying, like most of the beer-guzzling jerks in our school. I looked at Amanda and was met with an unwavering smile.

Shrugging a shoulder in the direction of the two in the backseat, Amanda twittered, "I didn't think you'd mind." Her gaze fell on Tommy, almost dreamily. "Besides. . . I couldn't refuse Tommy's offer." When she caught sight of Matt, the dreaminess faded. "Sadly, with all good things comes. . . bad things."

I, too, looked at Matt. He was staring at me, seemingly unaffected by Amanda's words. He smiled. I smiled back, then sat in my seat normally and stared ahead at the garage of my house, feeling nervous for some reason.

As Amanda pulled out of the driveway, I glanced at the lawn of my house and half expected to see Lure standing there, waving me off as if to say, "have fun with a car full of idiots". I looked down at my lap.

-

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the café. I recognized the building as if I had just walked out of it not even a minute ago. Stepping out of the car, I was surprised to find Matt already at my door.

"Damn," he muttered, "I was gonna open it for you."

I wasn't made of glass; I wasn't as feeble as he thought. I could open my own door. Annoyed, I brushed past him, then gasped when I felt his hand grasp mine. Scared, I ripped my hand from his and stiffly followed Amanda and Tommy into the café, trying my best not to look at him. I didn't want to see his reaction.

The familiar dimly lit room with a purple rug and ornate maroon walls greeted me with a sense of remembrance. I scanned the room with my eyes, hesitating on the table where I had sat with Lure for the first time, then found myself trailing after Amanda. We found a table for four and sat down. Sadly, Matt sat beside me.

As the soft music washed over me, Matt leaned towards me and asked, "What are you getting?"

I shrugged, "I'm not ordering anything."

He looked surprised. "Why not?"

"I don't feel too well," I said absently, then mentally slapped myself when I realized my mistake. Instantly, Matt began to do his routine of asking me if I was alright, if I needed to use the washroom, if I needed to be driven home, if I was feeling faint, if I needed any medication. . .

"Matt," I said sharply, "I'm just tired."

"You should be sleeping," he informed me, "because if you don't get enough sleep, your body is more immune to sickness since it is too tired to fight off—"

"I'm fine, Matt," I sighed, looking away from him. He seemed to catch my irritation, for he quieted down.

-

The next day, I sat in English class, pondering over my next wish. I had no idea what I wanted. No idea, at all. Which was odd. If offered five wishes, most people would go to town with them. I, on the other hand, did not even know what to wish for.