Careful What You Wish For

Chapter Two

"Why didn't you call the police?"

Brianne Price stands in her small dormitory-sized room, one hand on her hip, waiting for her microwave to ding. It's late, and although she doesn't look tired it's clear she was woken abruptly. Her dressing gown hangs off one shoulder, her hair sticks up wildly on one side, and there is a dented impression on her cheek that looks like she fell asleep on her hand. Her room at Emmanuel House is tiny, and yet she has managed to get a substantial amount of furniture and belongings into the small space, including wall hangings, bright cushions, and a bookshelf.

Sophie shrugs. "I thought maybe it was Evan..." Thinking this to herself is one thing but saying it out loud makes her feel depressingly deluded. Evan would never. Sophie sits on the peach-coloured sofa with a blanket across her lap. It's almost midnight.

To her credit, Brianne makes no comment on the Evan response. "How did they even get in?" She asks instead.

"The window was open."

"So they climbed the wall like Spiderman? I don't get it. How did they get up there?"

"There's a trellis under the bathroom window."

"Ahhh," Brianne sighs, remembering. "So there is." The microwave dings and she grabs the hot chocolate, bringing it over to her friend. "Sorry, I don't have any marshmallows."

Sophie waves her hand. "I don't need marshmallows."

Brianne hands her the mug, considering. "Sorry, I don't have any vodka."

Sophie snorts and then smiles. She holds the warm mug in both hands. "Thanks for letting me stay."

Brianne takes a seat beside her on the sofa. "Of course." Brianne visibly shudders. "So creepy. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to go back."

She watches Sophie for a moment. Her friend is pale, paler than usual. Her auburn hair, usually so striking, even looks pale and washed out, like every fibre of her being has lost its go-go. She has so many questions in her head. Why not call the police? Did she think it was a harmless gesture? Why would anyone do such a disturbing thing? And Evan? Really?

Sophie's problems with her ex-boyfriend were an extraordinary surprise to Brianne. Sophie has never, in any respect whatsoever, had problems with getting over men. And it's not that she was some kind of heartbreaker or anything like that, she was just so well-adjusted. If the relationship didn't work out, then it didn't work out. That was that. But Evan! He's under her skin. That pompous moron is firmly wedged in her head, and nothing that Brianne can do or say is helping to remove him. She is at a loss to even understand how it has happened.

"Maybe I should have called the police," Sophie says suddenly, making Brianne wonder if the question was showing on her face. "Is it stupid not to?"

Brianne lets out a long breath, trying to imagine what she would do in this absurd situation. "I don't know! I really don't. Maybe it was just a prank? Or maybe you have a super romantic admirer? Calling the police could be a little dramatic." She reasons.

"Maybe it was for Jenna?" Sophie suggests. "Maybe they didn't know she was away?"

Brianne looks sceptical. "Maybe. But then why scare the hell out of you?"

Sophie has to agree. She was the one in the house when they broke in. It certainly felt personal.

"What if it's more serious than a prank?" Sophie wonders.

"Like a stalker?" Brianne asks.

Sophie's pale eyes grow wide and round. "Stalker." She repeats the word, frowning slightly, rolling it around in her mouth. She shakes her head. "No."

Brianne regrets saying it as soon as it's out. She doesn't need to scare her. She forces a nonchalant shrug. "You're probably right. You know, the more I think about it, the more I think it is probably just a prank. It has to be one of our friends." She says. "Although for what possible reason I can't even imagine, but I mean, who else could it be? People don't just climb into other people's houses and leave rose petals in their showers."

Brianne immediately launches into a list of all their friends at university and then backtracks to high school for good measure. Living in the same city they grew up in, with their old high school only suburbs away from where they currently go to university, means that it could have been absolutely anyone. Brianne counts on her fingers, discards suspects as she goes, and then adds more people as she thinks of them - the result is a jumbled mess of confused improbabilities.

Sophie is hardly listening in any case and forming her own list. A prank. Yes, it had to be. But who? Evan? Sophie tries to hide her sudden spasm of enthusiasm for this thought. Evan, Evan, Evan. Damn. Sophie feels the spark of hope flare in her chest. She pictures him, his dark hair falling in his eyes as he strews red rose petals across the floor, smiling that faultless smile as he imagines her stunned reaction... would she forgive him for cheating? Is that what he would be thinking? Sophie sighs. She is so tired of herself and tired of fighting this relentless hopeful desire. Of course, that's not what happened. Evan is an egocentric playboy bastard who doesn't even care for her. The image of him in her bathroom with roses is laughable - she is imagining a person that doesn't exist. See, she knows this. In every part of her body, she knows this, and yet her brain continues to create these cruel fantasies to torment her.

A more plausible possibility is that Evan convinced one of his friends that it would be funny. A practical joke. A great big joke on the ex-girlfriend. Nice. What could be the point?

Evan, Evan, Evan.

~

It is in the very early hours of the morning that Sophie begins to sink into sleep. She watches the flickering television through drooping eyelids. Evan is finally far in the background of her thoughts. Now, however, there is another word rolling around in her head that she is only vaguely aware of. Stalker.

Stalker, stalker, stalker.