“Relax, Will,” said Razzel, “it’s only pizza. If the conversation gets awkward, you can always shove some garlic knots in your mouth.”
“I’ve already got knots in my stomach, thanks,” replied Willow, pacing in her bedroom.
“I haven’t seen you this nervous since your first ballet recital last month, and you were amazing.”
Willow smiled.
“What’s the big deal anyway?” said Razzel. “You guys talk all the time at school, and on the web. It’s just another chat session.”
“I know, Raz. You’re right. But try tellin’ that to my stomach.”
Razzel grabbed Willow by the wrist and forced her to sit on the bed beside her.
“Listen, Will, any guy would be incredibly lucky to go out with you. You’re smart, cute and funny. If your date doesn’t realize that, then he’s not even worth your time. Just focus on having fun tonight. It’s just like hanging out with a friend. And if it doesn’t go well … you could practice that new choke-hold I taught you.”
Willow could not help but laugh.
The door to Willow’s room swung open as a large figure entered. He was just over six-feet-tall and wore a tight t-shirt, accentuating his firm, muscular build.
“Hey, Squirt,” said Wyatt, “have a good time tonight - but not too good.”
“So it never sinks in, does it?” said Razzel.
“What?” replied Wyatt.
“The countless times we asked you to knock before barging in here, never seeps in through that thick skull of yours. What if we weren’t decent?”
“Come on, Raz,” replied Wyatt, “your attitude’s never decent?” He laughed a bit too hard at his own joke while Razzel and Willow did not even crack a smile.
“Ahem, well anyway,” Wyatt pressed on, “Mom told me to remind you to be home by 10:30. She’s really upset she couldn’t be here for your first date, but her promotion at the hospital’s got her busier than ever.”
“I spoke to her earlier,” said Willow. “Thank God she isn’t here. She’d just make me more nervous.”
Wyatt was about to leave Willow’s room when she called him back.
“Oh, Wyatt, I almost forgot; Kreb Miller called while you were in the shower. Said his cold’s turned into the flu and he can’t make the movie tonight. He sounded awful.”
“What!” Wyatt was outraged. “McFarkus! We’ve been planning this for weeks!”
“It’s only a movie,” said Willow. “Can’t you just go when he’s feeling - ”
“Only a movie?” replied Wyatt, aghast. “The live action version of Warrior Skull! ‘Only a movie?’”
“Warrior Skull?” said Razzel, confused. “That doesn’t open for another two weeks.”
Wyatt reached into his back pocket and produced two tickets.
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“Not for those of us who are going to the advanced screening,” he said, complacently.
Razzel immediately sprang up from Willow’s bed.
“Shut – up! No way!” Razzel snatched the tickets from Wyatt’s grasp to examine them more closely.
“Just one of the many perks of being captain of the Gripnest Gravediggers,” Wyatt boasted in a tone that was far from modest. He watched Razzel as she studied the small print on the tickets. She felt Wyatt’s stare and handed the tickets back to him, somewhat embarrassed by her overzealous behavior.
“Well … have fun. Let me know if it’s any good.”
“Hmmm,” Wyatt appeared to deliberate upon his dilemma, staring intently at Razzel. “I was gonna make a few calls, but maybe you’d like to tag?”
“Me?” Razzel was flustered. “Isn’t there some cheerleading senior you’d rather take?”
“You kiddin’? Sit there next to some fake-nail-wearing drama-queen who keeps checking her watch every 15 minutes because she’d rather be sitting through The Sisterhood of Dandelions or some other chick-flick? Nuh, uh. I need someone who can appreciate the art that is … ” Wyatt stared off into the distance as if entranced “ … Warrior Skull!” He turned his gaze back to Razzel. “You in?”
Razzel looked at Willow for guidance. Willow responded by cocking her head to one side, raising her brows and smirking.
Razzel turned back to Wyatt and folded her arms before giving her response.
“You know … I have to have nachos while I’m watching a comic-book-adaptation. Just a rule I have.”
“So what’s the problem?” replied Wyatt. “I always get two orders anyway. I can spare a few chips. We leave in an hour.”
As Wyatt left Willow’s room, Razzel made her way back to the bed and sat down beside her best friend, avoiding all eye contact.
“Hmm,” muttered Willow, “I was wondering when something like that would happen.”
“Huh?” said Razzel, nonchalantly. “Something like what?”
“Oh, come off it, Raz. At each other’s throats for years about which superhero’s the coolest; which slasher film is the goriest; both of you making me sit through 70's kung fu marathon’s … ”
Razzel acted as aloof as she could.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“ … and, on top of everything,” continued Willow, “Wyatt’s adorable and you know it.”
“I wouldn’t say adorable, Will.”
“He’s got my dad’s dimples. I always love it when Wyatt smiles. But, I digress. I think you and Wyatt are a great idea.”
“What idea? My best friend’s brother happens to have an extra ticket to a flick and since it’s short notice …”
Razzel was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. She was never so relieved to hear it.
“Aha!” she said. “It’s about freakin’ time! I’ll get it.”
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Hoping to avoid any further discussion about her impromptu screening,
Razzel darted down the stairs so quickly, she stumbled down the last two steps. She quickly opened the front door. The figure before her carried two stuffed shopping bags draped over each arm, while holding a stack of clothing so high, it was obstructing her face. This did not prevent Razzel from recognizing her.
“You’ve got some nerve, Shayla Stergus, you know that?”
“What? I’m only 40 minutes late. I couldn’t decide what to bring.”
“So you brought everything in your closet?” said Razzel, grabbing a pile of clothes from Shayla, lightening her load.
“Razzel, don’t be absurd. There isn’t a truck large enough to cart over my entire wardrobe. No, these are just a few things I grabbed, which I feel would highlight Willow’s hair color, contrast her eyes, accentuate her - ”
“Just get up there, Donna Karan,” said Razzel, returning the clothes atop of Shayla’s pile in order to stifle her. “She’s a nervous wreck and her date’s gonna be here any minute.”
Razzel watched in amusement as Shayla struggled and fumbled to transport her cargo up the stairs. She considered lending Shayla a hand, but the doorbell rang once again.
Razzel opened the front door to find Tristan Kresh smiling at her, holding a bouquet of daisies. He was wearing a brown leather jacket, a blue button-down shirt, black leather work boots and black jeans. His red, slicked-back hair glistened as it pulled into a tight ponytail, the end of which reached the middle of his back.
“Not surprised to see you here,” he said to Razzel, stepping over the threshold.
Razzel gave him a distrustful stare. She had gotten to know Trist at school, and aside from finding him a bit smug, she felt he was harmless. That is, until he asked out Willow on a date last week. The role of overly protective best friend would not easily be relinquished, even in high school.
“So,” said Razzel, “pizza, huh?”
“Yeah, I know how much Willow likes it. Bella Mozzarella just expanded into a full restaurant. Thought we’d check it out and then take a walk through the park. Willow loves the park.”
“Seems like you’ve gotten to know a lot about our young Willow.”
Trist smiled.
“She’s not that young, Raz.”
“The name’s Razzel … Tristan.”
Sensing the tension emanating from Razzel, Trist instantly altered his expression.
“I just meant I’ve been wanting to ask her out for a while, but her mom wouldn’t let her date until now and - ”
“I think she should wait at least another year,” Razzel interrupted, “but hey, I’m not her mother.”
“No, you’re not!” Trist snapped back.
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The two teens stared one another down for a moment, neither of them conceding to blink until finally Wyatt’s entrance from the kitchen seemed to diminish a bit of the tension.
“There’s the lucky man who gets to take out my baby sis,” said Wyatt, oblivious to the friction in the air.
“Hey,” said Trist, finally breaking eye contact with his opposition, “there’s the man who single handedly scored 32 points in last week’s game against Pramton High.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” said Wyatt as he plunked down onto the sofa, grabbing the remote.
“So, Tristan,” Razzel called out, demanding the young man’s attention once more, “I wanted to be clear that Willow isn’t just an acquaintance … she’s my family. Do we understand each other?”
“Not really,” replied Trist, his tone indifferent.
Razzel took a step closer to him.
“I want her to have fun tonight,” said Razzel, her gaze lethal. “She deserves it. But if I find out that you hurt her in any way, emotionally or otherwise - ”
Trist rolled his eyes and side-stepped Razzel, interrupting her would-be threat. He took a seat on the sofa next to Wyatt, tossed the bouquet of flowers onto the coffee table and rested his size 11 boots upon the ottoman before him. He stared at the basketball game on TV as if Razzel did not exist.
Realizing what had just transpired, Wyatt looked at Razzel to find her wearing her signature seething expression. He picked up the candy dish from the coffee table and began popping M&M’s into his mouth, his full attention now on Razzel and Trist; nothing on TV could top this.
Wyatt looked on with profound interest as Razzel kicked the ottoman out from under Trist’s legs, grabbed him by his jacket collar and hoisted him up to his feet.
“Listen to me, Rapunzel!” Razzel spat, “you break her heart and I will rip yours out and show it to you while it’s still beating!” She raised her brows as she yanked him closer, practically touching noses. “Is that clear enough for you?”
Trist looked at Wyatt for support, but all he received was a broad grin and a nod as Wyatt proceeded to pop more candy into his mouth. Trist turned back to face Razzel, who’s grip apparently would not relinquish until she received her answer. After several tense moments, “Yeah … yeah, it’s clear.”
Razzel shoved Trist back onto the sofa with such force, the sofa legs on his side scraped the hardwood floor as they skidded back an inch.
“Good,” she said, forcing a smile. “Now, I’ll go see if she’s ready for you.”
Trist adjusted his posture, but did not dare get back to his feet. He stared straight ahead, feigning interest in the basketball game. He could see from his peripheral vision that Wyatt was still staring at him. It made him very uneasy.
After a few awkward moments, Wyatt finally broke the silence.
“You know … when she crinkles her nose just before she’s about to strike, it’s kinda cute isn’t it?”
Trist didn’t say a word, but continued to stare straight ahead, praying for his date to make her way down the stairs.
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Razzel reached Willow’s room to find clothes scattered all over the floor and bed. Willow was wearing a blue & black striped v-neck shirt with a long matching hair-scarf and navy wide-leg dress trousers.
Shayla spun her around for Razzel to get a better look.
“Well?” said Shayla.
“I’ve gotta hand it to you, Shay,” said Razzel, “you do have a great eye for fashion. Will, you look amazing. Casual, yet classy.”
“Thanks. What kept you?”
“Oh, I was just having a little chat with our guest,” replied Razzel, suddenly interested in checking her fingernails.
Shayla let out a chuckle.
“Raz?” said Willow, suspiciously, “You didn’t! Please tell me you didn’t threaten him!”
“He’s a 16-year-old guy, Willow,” Shayla chimed in. “Trust me, he needs to be threatened.”
Razzel nodded to Shayla for the backup. She then spotted a long teal skirt on the edge of Willow’s bed that matched the shirt she was wearing. She picked it up and rested it against her waist.
“Hey, Shay, can I borrow this tonight?”
“Sure, but where are you going? I thought we could mall-it while texting Willow every five minutes.”
“Think again,” said Willow. “I’m not the only one who has a date tonight.”
“It’s - not - a - date!” Razzel shot back. “I’m going to a movie with a friend - that’s it.”
“Really?” said Shayla. “Which friend?”
“My brother,” Willow responded before Razzel could.
“Well, it’s about damn time,” said Shayla. “If I have to sit through one more King Kong vs Godzilla debate … ”
“Oh, I’m certain we haven’t heard the last of that one,” said Willow, “except now, they can argue about it over one milkshake with two straws.”
Razzel stood in her spot, staring at her two chortling friends, with an expression of speechless defeat.
“Well, enough stalling, Willow,” said Shayla. “Let’s finish your makeup. Razzel, put down that skirt. It clashes with the hazel in your eyes. We can do much better. Just let me finish up with Willow and then we’ll turn the warrior into a princess.”
“Let’s not make a production about this movie, guys,” Razzel pleaded, but Shayla ignored her as she beckoned Willow to sit in the chair facing the dresser mirror.
“Turn to me for a sec,” Shayla instructed Willow, finishing up her blush. “I just want to touch up those cheeks.”
Willow spun around on her swivel chair so swiftly, nervously clutching an old wire hanger, she accidentally scraped the tip of the hook against Shayla’s forearm. Shayla let out a slight yelp as she retracted her arm in pain.
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“Oh, Shayla!” Willow jumped up, tossing the hanger aside. “I didn’t even realize - ”
“Don’t sweat it, Willow,” Shayla replied. “I’ll live.”
The gash was deep, and blood droplets were spilling onto Shayla’s dress.
Razzel tossed the blouse she was examining and ran over to her friends. “Careful, Shay,” she said, straightening her friend’s arm, “you’re getting blood on yourself.”
“Oh, please, ” said Shayla, apparently unaffected by her injury, “I’ve got plenty of other dresses.”
“Raz,” said Willow, “grab that box of tissues on my nightstand.”
“Right.” Razzel streaked across the room but there were no tissues to be found. “I don’t see them, Will.”
“I just opened a box,” said Willow. “Where did I put them?”
Shayla’s forearm was almost completely covered in blood.
“Oh, here they are,” said Razzel, spotting the open box of tissues on the rug, alongside Willow’s bed.
Razzel and Willow cleaned up Shayla’s arm as best as they could.
“That was a metal hanger, Shayla,” said Willow. “We’d better get some peroxide on your arm so it doesn’t get infected.”
“Spoken like a true nurse’s daughter,” said Shayla. “Stop making such a deal about this. Just give me something to wrap around my arm to stop the bleeding and we can call it a day.”
“Hang on. My mom brought the peroxide in my room last week to get a stain out of my carpet. I know she left it in here.” Willow searched frantically on her dresser through the sea of makeup and accessories she laid out to get ready for her date. “Gotta be here somewhere.”
“Hurry up, Will!” said Razzel, applying pressure to Shayla’s arm with the final tissue in the box. “We need to wrap this arm up.”
“Where is that damn peroxide?” shrieked a frustrated Willow, knocking over blushes and lipsticks on her dresser.
Finally, giving up the hunt, Willow pulled a hair kerchief from her dresser and began wrapping Shayla’s arm.
“Good as new,” said Shayla. “And look, the color matches the floral pattern on my dress. You’re learning, Willow.”
“Shayla, I’m sorry. I was holding that stupid hanger and I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Forget it,” said Shayla. “Let’s touch up those cheeks and get you on your way.”
“You guys finish up,” said Razzel, “I’m gonna clean up this rug.”
Willow looked down at the cream colored carpeting beneath her. The droplets of Shayla’s blood stippled into it were more than apparent.
“Oops,” said Shayla, “Sorry about that.”
“What are you apologizing for?” said Willow. “This is all my fault.”
“All right, enough with the blame-game already,” said Razzel, checking her watch. “We gotta get movin’.”
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“Don’t worry, Razzel, ” said Shayla, smirking, “we’ll get you ready for the ball.”
“Just a movie!” said Razzel defensively. “Besides, I was thinking about Will. Slick-Red is downstairs waiting for her.”
Willow was examining the blood-stained rug when Shayla grabbed her by her shoulders, spun her toward her and began touching up her cheekbones as if nothing had happened.
“There,” said Shayla. “Perfect.”
Both Willow and Shayla’s attention was suddenly drawn to the scene of Razzel wiping the blood off the rug with an old t-shirt she found on Willow’s bedroom floor. She seemed to be making the stain worse by smearing the crimson dots into the carpeting.
“This isn’t working,” admitted Razzel. “I’d better wet this with some water.”
“How about bleach,” suggested Shayla.
“That would totally ruin the rug,” said Razzel.
“I hate to sound like a broken record, you guys” Willow chimed, ”but if you dilute some hydrogen peroxide - ”
“We know, Professor Chemistry,” said Razzel, “but since you can’t find it … ”
“This is so frustrating,” said Willow. “My mom just used it. It couldn’t have just disappeared!”
Razzel and Shayla rushed to the bathroom, just outside Willow’s bedroom, to see if they could find anything to get the blood stain out before it set.
Willow glanced at the clock on her nightstand and realized how late it was getting. She let out an exasperated huff. She extended her right arm in front of her dresser as if presenting the clutter of cosmetics and accessories to someone.
“WHERE IS IT!”
Willow’s exasperation immediately turned to shock at what she witnessed next: A silk scarf, which Shayla tossed on Willow’s dresser earlier, began moving as if possessed; something was sliding underneath it. Willow’s eyes widened as she saw a brown plastic bottle reveal itself from beneath it’s silk veil. It soared through the air and landed in Willow’s open palm. Willow instinctively clasped it. She turned the bottle around apprehensively, revealing the logo of the local pharmacy. Directly beneath the logo read the words: Hydrogen Peroxide
Razzel and Shayla returned with a damp sponge and a bottle of shampoo.
“This is all we could find,” said Razzel, suddenly realizing Willow was frozen in her spot, gazing at the brown container within her grasp.
“Will? You okay?”
Willow appeared transfixed by what she was holding.
“Willow?” called Shayla, concerned by her friend’s meditative state.
“WILL!” Razzel shouted, finally breaking Willow out of her apparent enchantment.
“Huh?” Willow finally replied. “Oh … hey, guys.”
“Will, what’s wrong?”
Willow stared at Razzel and Shayla for a moment before stealing another glance at the beckoned object within her clutch. She turned her attention back to her friends with a nervous grin, presenting the brown plastic container to them.
“Found it.”
THE END
“I’ve already got knots in my stomach, thanks,” replied Willow, pacing in her bedroom.
“I haven’t seen you this nervous since your first ballet recital last month, and you were amazing.”
Willow smiled.
“What’s the big deal anyway?” said Razzel. “You guys talk all the time at school, and on the web. It’s just another chat session.”
“I know, Raz. You’re right. But try tellin’ that to my stomach.”
Razzel grabbed Willow by the wrist and forced her to sit on the bed beside her.
“Listen, Will, any guy would be incredibly lucky to go out with you. You’re smart, cute and funny. If your date doesn’t realize that, then he’s not even worth your time. Just focus on having fun tonight. It’s just like hanging out with a friend. And if it doesn’t go well … you could practice that new choke-hold I taught you.”
Willow could not help but laugh.
The door to Willow’s room swung open as a large figure entered. He was just over six-feet-tall and wore a tight t-shirt, accentuating his firm, muscular build.
“Hey, Squirt,” said Wyatt, “have a good time tonight - but not too good.”
“So it never sinks in, does it?” said Razzel.
“What?” replied Wyatt.
“The countless times we asked you to knock before barging in here, never seeps in through that thick skull of yours. What if we weren’t decent?”
“Come on, Raz,” replied Wyatt, “your attitude’s never decent?” He laughed a bit too hard at his own joke while Razzel and Willow did not even crack a smile.
“Ahem, well anyway,” Wyatt pressed on, “Mom told me to remind you to be home by 10:30. She’s really upset she couldn’t be here for your first date, but her promotion at the hospital’s got her busier than ever.”
“I spoke to her earlier,” said Willow. “Thank God she isn’t here. She’d just make me more nervous.”
Wyatt was about to leave Willow’s room when she called him back.
“Oh, Wyatt, I almost forgot; Kreb Miller called while you were in the shower. Said his cold’s turned into the flu and he can’t make the movie tonight. He sounded awful.”
“What!” Wyatt was outraged. “McFarkus! We’ve been planning this for weeks!”
“It’s only a movie,” said Willow. “Can’t you just go when he’s feeling - ”
“Only a movie?” replied Wyatt, aghast. “The live action version of Warrior Skull! ‘Only a movie?’”
“Warrior Skull?” said Razzel, confused. “That doesn’t open for another two weeks.”
Wyatt reached into his back pocket and produced two tickets.
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“Not for those of us who are going to the advanced screening,” he said, complacently.
Razzel immediately sprang up from Willow’s bed.
“Shut – up! No way!” Razzel snatched the tickets from Wyatt’s grasp to examine them more closely.
“Just one of the many perks of being captain of the Gripnest Gravediggers,” Wyatt boasted in a tone that was far from modest. He watched Razzel as she studied the small print on the tickets. She felt Wyatt’s stare and handed the tickets back to him, somewhat embarrassed by her overzealous behavior.
“Well … have fun. Let me know if it’s any good.”
“Hmmm,” Wyatt appeared to deliberate upon his dilemma, staring intently at Razzel. “I was gonna make a few calls, but maybe you’d like to tag?”
“Me?” Razzel was flustered. “Isn’t there some cheerleading senior you’d rather take?”
“You kiddin’? Sit there next to some fake-nail-wearing drama-queen who keeps checking her watch every 15 minutes because she’d rather be sitting through The Sisterhood of Dandelions or some other chick-flick? Nuh, uh. I need someone who can appreciate the art that is … ” Wyatt stared off into the distance as if entranced “ … Warrior Skull!” He turned his gaze back to Razzel. “You in?”
Razzel looked at Willow for guidance. Willow responded by cocking her head to one side, raising her brows and smirking.
Razzel turned back to Wyatt and folded her arms before giving her response.
“You know … I have to have nachos while I’m watching a comic-book-adaptation. Just a rule I have.”
“So what’s the problem?” replied Wyatt. “I always get two orders anyway. I can spare a few chips. We leave in an hour.”
As Wyatt left Willow’s room, Razzel made her way back to the bed and sat down beside her best friend, avoiding all eye contact.
“Hmm,” muttered Willow, “I was wondering when something like that would happen.”
“Huh?” said Razzel, nonchalantly. “Something like what?”
“Oh, come off it, Raz. At each other’s throats for years about which superhero’s the coolest; which slasher film is the goriest; both of you making me sit through 70's kung fu marathon’s … ”
Razzel acted as aloof as she could.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
“ … and, on top of everything,” continued Willow, “Wyatt’s adorable and you know it.”
“I wouldn’t say adorable, Will.”
“He’s got my dad’s dimples. I always love it when Wyatt smiles. But, I digress. I think you and Wyatt are a great idea.”
“What idea? My best friend’s brother happens to have an extra ticket to a flick and since it’s short notice …”
Razzel was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. She was never so relieved to hear it.
“Aha!” she said. “It’s about freakin’ time! I’ll get it.”
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Hoping to avoid any further discussion about her impromptu screening,
Razzel darted down the stairs so quickly, she stumbled down the last two steps. She quickly opened the front door. The figure before her carried two stuffed shopping bags draped over each arm, while holding a stack of clothing so high, it was obstructing her face. This did not prevent Razzel from recognizing her.
“You’ve got some nerve, Shayla Stergus, you know that?”
“What? I’m only 40 minutes late. I couldn’t decide what to bring.”
“So you brought everything in your closet?” said Razzel, grabbing a pile of clothes from Shayla, lightening her load.
“Razzel, don’t be absurd. There isn’t a truck large enough to cart over my entire wardrobe. No, these are just a few things I grabbed, which I feel would highlight Willow’s hair color, contrast her eyes, accentuate her - ”
“Just get up there, Donna Karan,” said Razzel, returning the clothes atop of Shayla’s pile in order to stifle her. “She’s a nervous wreck and her date’s gonna be here any minute.”
Razzel watched in amusement as Shayla struggled and fumbled to transport her cargo up the stairs. She considered lending Shayla a hand, but the doorbell rang once again.
Razzel opened the front door to find Tristan Kresh smiling at her, holding a bouquet of daisies. He was wearing a brown leather jacket, a blue button-down shirt, black leather work boots and black jeans. His red, slicked-back hair glistened as it pulled into a tight ponytail, the end of which reached the middle of his back.
“Not surprised to see you here,” he said to Razzel, stepping over the threshold.
Razzel gave him a distrustful stare. She had gotten to know Trist at school, and aside from finding him a bit smug, she felt he was harmless. That is, until he asked out Willow on a date last week. The role of overly protective best friend would not easily be relinquished, even in high school.
“So,” said Razzel, “pizza, huh?”
“Yeah, I know how much Willow likes it. Bella Mozzarella just expanded into a full restaurant. Thought we’d check it out and then take a walk through the park. Willow loves the park.”
“Seems like you’ve gotten to know a lot about our young Willow.”
Trist smiled.
“She’s not that young, Raz.”
“The name’s Razzel … Tristan.”
Sensing the tension emanating from Razzel, Trist instantly altered his expression.
“I just meant I’ve been wanting to ask her out for a while, but her mom wouldn’t let her date until now and - ”
“I think she should wait at least another year,” Razzel interrupted, “but hey, I’m not her mother.”
“No, you’re not!” Trist snapped back.
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The two teens stared one another down for a moment, neither of them conceding to blink until finally Wyatt’s entrance from the kitchen seemed to diminish a bit of the tension.
“There’s the lucky man who gets to take out my baby sis,” said Wyatt, oblivious to the friction in the air.
“Hey,” said Trist, finally breaking eye contact with his opposition, “there’s the man who single handedly scored 32 points in last week’s game against Pramton High.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” said Wyatt as he plunked down onto the sofa, grabbing the remote.
“So, Tristan,” Razzel called out, demanding the young man’s attention once more, “I wanted to be clear that Willow isn’t just an acquaintance … she’s my family. Do we understand each other?”
“Not really,” replied Trist, his tone indifferent.
Razzel took a step closer to him.
“I want her to have fun tonight,” said Razzel, her gaze lethal. “She deserves it. But if I find out that you hurt her in any way, emotionally or otherwise - ”
Trist rolled his eyes and side-stepped Razzel, interrupting her would-be threat. He took a seat on the sofa next to Wyatt, tossed the bouquet of flowers onto the coffee table and rested his size 11 boots upon the ottoman before him. He stared at the basketball game on TV as if Razzel did not exist.
Realizing what had just transpired, Wyatt looked at Razzel to find her wearing her signature seething expression. He picked up the candy dish from the coffee table and began popping M&M’s into his mouth, his full attention now on Razzel and Trist; nothing on TV could top this.
Wyatt looked on with profound interest as Razzel kicked the ottoman out from under Trist’s legs, grabbed him by his jacket collar and hoisted him up to his feet.
“Listen to me, Rapunzel!” Razzel spat, “you break her heart and I will rip yours out and show it to you while it’s still beating!” She raised her brows as she yanked him closer, practically touching noses. “Is that clear enough for you?”
Trist looked at Wyatt for support, but all he received was a broad grin and a nod as Wyatt proceeded to pop more candy into his mouth. Trist turned back to face Razzel, who’s grip apparently would not relinquish until she received her answer. After several tense moments, “Yeah … yeah, it’s clear.”
Razzel shoved Trist back onto the sofa with such force, the sofa legs on his side scraped the hardwood floor as they skidded back an inch.
“Good,” she said, forcing a smile. “Now, I’ll go see if she’s ready for you.”
Trist adjusted his posture, but did not dare get back to his feet. He stared straight ahead, feigning interest in the basketball game. He could see from his peripheral vision that Wyatt was still staring at him. It made him very uneasy.
After a few awkward moments, Wyatt finally broke the silence.
“You know … when she crinkles her nose just before she’s about to strike, it’s kinda cute isn’t it?”
Trist didn’t say a word, but continued to stare straight ahead, praying for his date to make her way down the stairs.
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Razzel reached Willow’s room to find clothes scattered all over the floor and bed. Willow was wearing a blue & black striped v-neck shirt with a long matching hair-scarf and navy wide-leg dress trousers.
Shayla spun her around for Razzel to get a better look.
“Well?” said Shayla.
“I’ve gotta hand it to you, Shay,” said Razzel, “you do have a great eye for fashion. Will, you look amazing. Casual, yet classy.”
“Thanks. What kept you?”
“Oh, I was just having a little chat with our guest,” replied Razzel, suddenly interested in checking her fingernails.
Shayla let out a chuckle.
“Raz?” said Willow, suspiciously, “You didn’t! Please tell me you didn’t threaten him!”
“He’s a 16-year-old guy, Willow,” Shayla chimed in. “Trust me, he needs to be threatened.”
Razzel nodded to Shayla for the backup. She then spotted a long teal skirt on the edge of Willow’s bed that matched the shirt she was wearing. She picked it up and rested it against her waist.
“Hey, Shay, can I borrow this tonight?”
“Sure, but where are you going? I thought we could mall-it while texting Willow every five minutes.”
“Think again,” said Willow. “I’m not the only one who has a date tonight.”
“It’s - not - a - date!” Razzel shot back. “I’m going to a movie with a friend - that’s it.”
“Really?” said Shayla. “Which friend?”
“My brother,” Willow responded before Razzel could.
“Well, it’s about damn time,” said Shayla. “If I have to sit through one more King Kong vs Godzilla debate … ”
“Oh, I’m certain we haven’t heard the last of that one,” said Willow, “except now, they can argue about it over one milkshake with two straws.”
Razzel stood in her spot, staring at her two chortling friends, with an expression of speechless defeat.
“Well, enough stalling, Willow,” said Shayla. “Let’s finish your makeup. Razzel, put down that skirt. It clashes with the hazel in your eyes. We can do much better. Just let me finish up with Willow and then we’ll turn the warrior into a princess.”
“Let’s not make a production about this movie, guys,” Razzel pleaded, but Shayla ignored her as she beckoned Willow to sit in the chair facing the dresser mirror.
“Turn to me for a sec,” Shayla instructed Willow, finishing up her blush. “I just want to touch up those cheeks.”
Willow spun around on her swivel chair so swiftly, nervously clutching an old wire hanger, she accidentally scraped the tip of the hook against Shayla’s forearm. Shayla let out a slight yelp as she retracted her arm in pain.
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“Oh, Shayla!” Willow jumped up, tossing the hanger aside. “I didn’t even realize - ”
“Don’t sweat it, Willow,” Shayla replied. “I’ll live.”
The gash was deep, and blood droplets were spilling onto Shayla’s dress.
Razzel tossed the blouse she was examining and ran over to her friends. “Careful, Shay,” she said, straightening her friend’s arm, “you’re getting blood on yourself.”
“Oh, please, ” said Shayla, apparently unaffected by her injury, “I’ve got plenty of other dresses.”
“Raz,” said Willow, “grab that box of tissues on my nightstand.”
“Right.” Razzel streaked across the room but there were no tissues to be found. “I don’t see them, Will.”
“I just opened a box,” said Willow. “Where did I put them?”
Shayla’s forearm was almost completely covered in blood.
“Oh, here they are,” said Razzel, spotting the open box of tissues on the rug, alongside Willow’s bed.
Razzel and Willow cleaned up Shayla’s arm as best as they could.
“That was a metal hanger, Shayla,” said Willow. “We’d better get some peroxide on your arm so it doesn’t get infected.”
“Spoken like a true nurse’s daughter,” said Shayla. “Stop making such a deal about this. Just give me something to wrap around my arm to stop the bleeding and we can call it a day.”
“Hang on. My mom brought the peroxide in my room last week to get a stain out of my carpet. I know she left it in here.” Willow searched frantically on her dresser through the sea of makeup and accessories she laid out to get ready for her date. “Gotta be here somewhere.”
“Hurry up, Will!” said Razzel, applying pressure to Shayla’s arm with the final tissue in the box. “We need to wrap this arm up.”
“Where is that damn peroxide?” shrieked a frustrated Willow, knocking over blushes and lipsticks on her dresser.
Finally, giving up the hunt, Willow pulled a hair kerchief from her dresser and began wrapping Shayla’s arm.
“Good as new,” said Shayla. “And look, the color matches the floral pattern on my dress. You’re learning, Willow.”
“Shayla, I’m sorry. I was holding that stupid hanger and I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Forget it,” said Shayla. “Let’s touch up those cheeks and get you on your way.”
“You guys finish up,” said Razzel, “I’m gonna clean up this rug.”
Willow looked down at the cream colored carpeting beneath her. The droplets of Shayla’s blood stippled into it were more than apparent.
“Oops,” said Shayla, “Sorry about that.”
“What are you apologizing for?” said Willow. “This is all my fault.”
“All right, enough with the blame-game already,” said Razzel, checking her watch. “We gotta get movin’.”
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“Don’t worry, Razzel, ” said Shayla, smirking, “we’ll get you ready for the ball.”
“Just a movie!” said Razzel defensively. “Besides, I was thinking about Will. Slick-Red is downstairs waiting for her.”
Willow was examining the blood-stained rug when Shayla grabbed her by her shoulders, spun her toward her and began touching up her cheekbones as if nothing had happened.
“There,” said Shayla. “Perfect.”
Both Willow and Shayla’s attention was suddenly drawn to the scene of Razzel wiping the blood off the rug with an old t-shirt she found on Willow’s bedroom floor. She seemed to be making the stain worse by smearing the crimson dots into the carpeting.
“This isn’t working,” admitted Razzel. “I’d better wet this with some water.”
“How about bleach,” suggested Shayla.
“That would totally ruin the rug,” said Razzel.
“I hate to sound like a broken record, you guys” Willow chimed, ”but if you dilute some hydrogen peroxide - ”
“We know, Professor Chemistry,” said Razzel, “but since you can’t find it … ”
“This is so frustrating,” said Willow. “My mom just used it. It couldn’t have just disappeared!”
Razzel and Shayla rushed to the bathroom, just outside Willow’s bedroom, to see if they could find anything to get the blood stain out before it set.
Willow glanced at the clock on her nightstand and realized how late it was getting. She let out an exasperated huff. She extended her right arm in front of her dresser as if presenting the clutter of cosmetics and accessories to someone.
“WHERE IS IT!”
Willow’s exasperation immediately turned to shock at what she witnessed next: A silk scarf, which Shayla tossed on Willow’s dresser earlier, began moving as if possessed; something was sliding underneath it. Willow’s eyes widened as she saw a brown plastic bottle reveal itself from beneath it’s silk veil. It soared through the air and landed in Willow’s open palm. Willow instinctively clasped it. She turned the bottle around apprehensively, revealing the logo of the local pharmacy. Directly beneath the logo read the words: Hydrogen Peroxide
Razzel and Shayla returned with a damp sponge and a bottle of shampoo.
“This is all we could find,” said Razzel, suddenly realizing Willow was frozen in her spot, gazing at the brown container within her grasp.
“Will? You okay?”
Willow appeared transfixed by what she was holding.
“Willow?” called Shayla, concerned by her friend’s meditative state.
“WILL!” Razzel shouted, finally breaking Willow out of her apparent enchantment.
“Huh?” Willow finally replied. “Oh … hey, guys.”
“Will, what’s wrong?”
Willow stared at Razzel and Shayla for a moment before stealing another glance at the beckoned object within her clutch. She turned her attention back to her friends with a nervous grin, presenting the brown plastic container to them.
“Found it.”
THE END
