Avenging Cupids

Chapter 3: Brittle Promise

“Riotous madness,

To be entangled with those mouth-made vows

Which break themselves in swearing!” 

— William Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra

Willow watched in rage as Elle paused beside her car. She seized her cell phone out of her back pocket and rapped on the touch screen, her hand trembling uncontrollably. She sent the text and threw one more glance over her shoulder before leaping into her car and speeding off in the same way Alden had.               

Willow's phone sprang to life but she ignored it. Sparks of anger glinted in her blue eyes that were once as inviting as the clear blue sky but now was as intimidating as the uncharted sea. She was still staring at the now empty parking spot that once housed Elle’s car. She balled her hands into fists, clenched her jaw, and squeezed her eyes shut defiantly. A raging river of tears and a mountain of sobs threatened to escape her.

I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.  

Willow was chanting as if she were a priest who was banishing demons from a poor possessed soul. Once the tears surrendered, she fished her phone from her purse.

It was a text message from Elle.   

Go figure.  

Still enraged, she pressed the ‘Open’ button with such force that the screen nearly cracked beneath her finger. Sorry for running out on you guys, the message said. Something urgent came up and I had to see my Nana.

That deceitful backstabbing witch! Willow felt hurt, betrayed, enraged, and shocked all at the same time. The plethora of negative emotions were battling one other inside her and all she wanted to do was scream until her lungs ruptured. But she didn’t. Instead, she lowered herself on the smoldering concrete and quietly wept. 

“Awww...is the Universal Virgin suffering from her first heartbreak?” Gigi, the most artificial of the Ersatzes was cooing to Willow as if she were an infant.

Willow stood up, ravaging her mind for a plausible excuse as to why she was sobbing on the filthy ground. On any other day, she would have had a witty—and twice as venomous—remark to spit back at Gigi. Not today. Willow’s mind was jam-packed with pointless thoughts of Alden and the two-faced renegade that used to be her best friend.  

“Back off, Plastic,” warned Willow. She so didn’t have the strength to tolerate Gigi. 

Gigi’s gofers laughed a grating, nasally laugh.

“Oh, please. Like you’re going to do something about it,” said Gigi in her whiny, childlike voice. Giselle Granville was the most synthetic out of all the synthetics in the world. She was the true definition of dumb blonde girl. She thought she ruled the school but she was only a big fish in a small pond. It was a sad case of the blind leading the blind.

“I’ll slap that Botox off your face little girl, don’t push me,” Willow growled through her teeth.

“I’d like to see you try,” blabbered Gigi. She thought her adenoidal voice was cute but Willow thought she sounded like an elf with a really bad case of the flu.  

“What do you want Giselle?” Willow was gritting her teeth, her patience wearing thin.

Gigi flinched at the mention of her real name. “I saw you checking out Alden at lunch today," she whined. "FYI, he’s way out of your league."